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- Vita and Virginia: Mental Health, Scandal and Bisexuality
Is Vita and Virginia good for women's history? Gemma Arterton has been the main reason I’ve recommended Vita and Virginia since first watching, not just because of the death grip she has had on me since St Trinian’s , but rather because she has the rare quality of being able to depict female queer experiences in a relatable and convincing way. (If you haven’t watched the film, or Summerland, another queer period drama starring Arterton, go and watch them now). It wasn’t until I rewatched the film for the purposes of this article that I noticed just how well Elizabeth Debicki portrays female queerness. In fact, the subtleties of Debicki’s Virginia, as opposed to Arterton’s Vita make for, in my opinion, a more convincing narrative of female queerness. Vita and Virginia is a film, adapted from a play, which is in turn based on the love letters of authors Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf. You might be wondering, if it’s a historical-fiction film based on a sapphic relationship, surely you’re not asking ‘Is this good for women’s history?’? Well, actually, yes. The narrative doesn’t simply depict that a homoerotic relationship happened between the two women. It also feeds into a narrative that queer, in particular bisexual women are either sexually promiscuous, or mentally unstable. That’s not to say that these women weren’t these things, Vita, as we will explore, was certainly sexually promiscuous, and to say that Virginia wasn’t mentally unstable would be an oversight of a lifetime. My criticism of this depiction isn’t that these women weren’t promiscuous and mentally unwell. However, Vita wasn’t simply a woman who fell in love quickly and dramatically, and Virginia wasn’t just a woman who paced the floor waiting for Vita. To skip ahead, whilst this film is not bad for women’s history, there are ways it could better represent and advocate for both queer women’s history and women’s literary history. N.b. as well as homoerotic scandal, sexuality, and identity, this article will also reference Woolf’s mental health (who is suspected to have had bipolar disorder). Virginia Woolf died by suicide in 1941, and some aspects of the film are hard to watch. There will be specific trigger warnings prior to discussions of these scenes. Please feel free not to read these parts if you may be affected by them. Accuracy Virginia Woolf is an author who needs little introduction. Born to a middle-class family in South Kensington, she married a friend of her brother, Leonard Woolf, to whom she reportedly had no attraction to at the start of their marriage. Despite this, the Woolfs were, as they appear in the film, reliant on each other emotionally and professionally. Together with contemporaries including Nessa and Clive Bell, (Virginia’s sister and brother-in-law) the Woolfs helped form the ‘Bloomsbury Group’ (basically your intellectually elite, sexually liberal, potential revolutionaries) and co-founded The Hogarth Press, an oft struggling publishing house which was, much to Virginia’s chagrin, saved from ruin by Vita’s work. Virginia was of course also the author of works such as Mrs Dalloway , A Room of One’s Own, and Orlando , a semi-biographical novelisation about none other than Vita Sackville-West. Recent work concerning Virginia Woolf often cites her relationship with Vita Sackville-West as the trigger to her most successful literary period. Personally, I think this is hyperbolic. The work written throughout and after the relationship the women shared was exemplary, this much is true. But assigning Virginia's success to Vita's influence would not pass by feminists if Vita were a man, hence her literary talent is not attributed to her husband, despite his influence on the author. The film spends more time on the typically Sapphic life of Vita Sackville-West. Despite being the only child of the third Baron Sackville and his cousin-wife, Vita was barred from inheriting her father’s estate and title, because, well, she was a girl. This was a point of lifelong contention, and some have (inaccurately) suggested that this contributed to her relationships with women. If there is evidence in Vita’s childhood of her sexual leanings, it is in what she would later describe as being psychologically “divided in two”: one side being feminine, soft, submissive, and attracted to men, the other masculine, hard, aggressive, and attracted to women. Her granddaughter, Juliet, has said that “ From the age of 12, Vita was sure she was gay… She would play in a khaki uniform then come in and put on her silks and pearls. ” Perhaps we could best describe Vita Sackville-West as suffering with compulsory-heterosexuality? Both her parents had lovers throughout her childhood, whom Vita was not only aware of, but partially raised by. For example, her fluency in French was largely thanks to the time spent in the Parisian home of Sir John Murray-Scott, her mother’s lover. Whilst her father’s mistress, an opera singer, lived with the family at Knole. Vita seems to have continued this informal familiarity with love and sex as she grew up, embarking on several affairs throughout her teenage years, early adulthood and indeed her marriage. For example, by the time of her formal society debut in 1910, she had a sexual relationship with Rosamund Grosvenor and a perpetually chaotic love affair with Violet Keppel, later Trefusis, the daughter of Alice Keppel, mistress to Edward VII. Vita and Violet met at Helen Wolff’s school for girls with their sexual relationship starting in their teen years and continuing for much of their adult lives. Vita married Harold Nicholson in 1913, after what she described as a “completely chaste” courtship . The pair immediately embarked on an open marriage, with both Vita and Harold enjoying same-sex relationships. Vita had secured herself a double bearded marriage. Each gave the other liberty to pursue the love and freedom they wanted, however, they were also aware of their marital duties as upper-class, and they dutifully had two children, Benedict, born in 1914 and Nigel, in 1917. Vita would also begrudgingly fulfil her duties as a diplomat’s wife when she absolutely needed to. Now you might be wondering, so, what was Vita? Gay, Bi? Straight up confused? If you Google ‘Was Vita Sackville-West gay?’, you’ll find several articles about the ‘fabulous forgotten history of Vita Sackville West,’ her lesbianism, relationship with Virginia, and her and her husband’s astounding gayness. Not to burst the bubble, but to quote Nick Nelson in Heartstopper . “I’m bisexual, actually.” Both Vita and Harold had relationships with men and women, they both, shockingly, seem to have genuinely loved each other and had sex at least three times (they had a third stillborn son) so if we must label them (something I try not to do) then bisexual definitely appears to be the more fitting terminology here. It’s worth mentioning here that bisexuality and historical study is a tricky subject, largely because historians don’t seem to be fully aware that attraction to more than one gender is a possibility. There is also a justified reluctance to label historical figures with twenty-first century awareness, but that's a different discussion. To turn to the drama of Violet Keppel… Vita and Violet had been in a sort of exclusive ‘lesbian’ relationship since their teens, this came to a crashing halt when Violet, depressed and abandoned by Vita since her marriage, agreed to an arranged marriage to Denys Trefusis. Vita, as the irrational woman that she was, made Violet promise to never have sex with her husband during a trip to France in 1918. Violet in turn forced Denys to this sexless marriage as a caveat of her agreement, and in 1919 they married. Shortly afterwards, Vita and Violet ran off to France, but Violet was swiftly retrieved by her husband. In February 1920 when they ran off again, news of the drama reached London almost immediately, in desperation, both husbands followed the couple in a two-seater aeroplane and dragged the women back to England and to their marriages. Later that year, Harold told Vita that Violet had broken her promise and slept with Denys. Violet attempted to keep her hold on Vita with love letters throughout the year, and in 1921 Vita eloped with her again, being called back by Harold’s threats to break off their marriage (and likely restrict her from her sons). Vita returned to England, and Violet to Italy. This characteristic Sapphic-drama is the immediate pretext to the opening of the film, in which Vita, freshly returned to England, now wants to focus on her legitimacy as a writer, gain access to the elite ‘Bloomsbury Group’, and is absolutely fascinated by the elusive figure that is Virginia Woolf. The film opens with cut scenes of Harold and Vita giving a radio interview about their successful marriage, Vita’s mother threatening to remove her sons from her custody, Vita herself arriving at a party hosted in Bloomsbury, gazing in awe at Virginia dancing, and then pursuing both Virginia and a place for her own novels within The Hogarth Press. The film is largely told from Vita’s perspective and is based on the letters exchanged between Vita and Virginia from 1922-1928. Broadly speaking, the screenplay does a fair job of depicting their complex romance, its strengths lying in Arterton’s depiction of Vita as somewhat self-obsessed, whilst simultaneously disparaging of her talents as a writer, especially in comparison to Virginia. As you watch, you find yourself struggling to believe Vita’s genuine feelings. Is she using Virginia for access to the Press? Yet the viewer also understands that Vita’s published works are far more successful than that of Virginia’s, or indeed of The Hogarth Press in its entirety. The publishing of her work would boost the company’s reputation. Virginia and her husband are wary of Vita and her work, its popularity and how she fits into their world. Debicki, as Virginia, presents as frantic, confused, and socially freer than Vita. She does not share a desire to have wildly popular novels, though there is a recognition that slightly more successful publications would be financially beneficial. She is also conflicted by Vita’s person, does she follow her blindly, or does she stay where she is safe, in her apparently loveless marriage? Throughout the film, Virginia is in a state of queer confusion and obsession, and Vita pursues her with the same rigour and brief infatuation as she did her previous lovers, with little understanding of Virginia’s unstable personality. This is a clear case of obsession and control. Vita eventually loses interest, and stops replying to Virginia’s letters, demonstrating her lack of understanding of the complexities of Virginia’s mental health. This is furthered by the scene which sees Vita bring another woman to Nessa’s art show. Virginia spirals, and the audience can understand her staring into the choppy water as a foreshadowing of her eventual suicide in the River Ouse. The obsessive writing of Orlando in the following scenes depicts both a manic episode of Virginia’s bipolar, and Vita’s malignant narcissism; as Virginia produces a novel based on the split lives, loves, masculinity and femininity of Vita Sackville-West, who then returns to Virginia, flattered by the attention. This appears to be a fairly accurate depiction of the development of their relationship in 1927-1928. It’s worth mentioning that much of the film is fictionalised and although based on letters and other primary sources, there is only so far a dramatisation can go in terms of accuracy. However, there are several moments which are interspersed throughout the film which assist the story's legitimacy. These include on Vita’s side: references to Violet and Vita’s elopements, Vita and Harold’s open marriage and her reluctance to partake in her duties as a diplomat’s wife, mention of their Garden Design at Sissinghurst, and Vita’s mother’s threats to remove the children from her custody due to Vita’s promiscuity. On Virginia’s side of events, notable accuracy comes in the form of the co-dependence of her marriage, the informality of the ‘Bloomsbury Group’, in particular their views on sexuality, medical advice which actually made her symptoms worse, and the literary creativity that Vita inspired in her. Sensitivity (TW: mention of sexual assault, s*lf-h*rm, and s*icide) It feels more fitting to discuss the intricacies of their sexual relationship and Virginia’s mental health through a critical lens aiming at sensitivity rather than accuracy. Virginia Woolf’s sexual encounters were not as free and positively queer as Vita Sackville-West’s. In childhood, Virginia had been molested by her older half-brother Gerald Duckworth at six years-old. Virginia’s biographers believe that it was these experiences which led to her life-long fear of sexual relationships and masculinity, the abuse by her half-brother(s) and potentially also by her cousin is described by Virginia as being a consistent feature of her childhood, and has been discussed by Hermione Lee and Lyndall Gordon as fundamental to her character. These experiences would have undeniably had an impact on Virginia’s already precarious mental health, and can be used to understand her codependency and obsession both with her husband and Vita. The scenes depicting the Sapphic couple’s sexual relationship suggest that this was the first time Virginia enjoyed sex. Considering her writing of her relationship with Leonard this may be a slight exaggeration, however, there is a sense that with Vita, Virginia found fulfilment in her sexuality that had been hitherto repressed. Even if dramatised for the purposes of the film. The film faces the common difficulty of how to depict Virginia’s health without buying into the narrative of the hysterical woman. Historians and psychologists have suggested that Virginia had bipolar disorder, characterised by periods of intense depression and elevated moods, sometimes known as mania. During these periods of mania the individual will rarely sleep and often have increased anxiety, sometimes hallucinations, all of which are portrayed in the film. Several scenes allude to Virginia’s eventual suicide and this is particularly notable when Virginia is briefly suspected to have gone into the water after her sister’s art opening. This small but meaningful moment directly depicts Virginia’s inability to understand her own emotions (the viewer can understand her heartbreak over Vita more clearly than herself). This is followed by the writing process of Orlando, which arguably poses as a manifestation of Virginia’s mania concerning Vita, subsequently encouraged by Vita’s typified narcissism. Orlando is a love letter, featuring Vita as an English Noble named Orlando spanning multiple centuries and genders. Relationships such as that with Violet Keppel and Virginia are both featured throughout the narrative and the title character is an enigma to the very end. The novel is a complex biography of a complex individual, it continues to divide opinion of if you are meant to like Orlando or not, and thus, of Virginia’s true feelings towards her. Perhaps the best adjective would be obsession. On some levels, the pair seem to have shared a good understanding of the other, but their relationship feels unequal. Virginia’s love for Vita appears genuine, if obsessive. Vita’s love, on the other hand, is self-concerned, regarding the improvement of her own writing, engagement with the literary community she craves and, in some ways, about the power she could hold over her lovers. So, is this a fair representation? Of the women individually, it does feel fair, and in Virginia’s case in particular, sensitive; you can’t help but be struck by the constant expression of confusion, mild panic and anxiety that Debicki has. Arterton’s Vita is harsher, and less sympathetic. As a couple they aren’t greatly convincing, there is perhaps too much attention paid to their respective marriages, to feel as if they could have really had the impact on each other’s lives and literary careers that they did. Entertainment Like all historical-fiction, the point is to be entertaining before it is to be accurate. Which is why I hasten to add that although based on their letters, this film is not entirely accurate to the women it characterises and it can only speculate the gaps in the evidence. Regarding entertainment, the film is generally an enjoyable one. It is occasionally slow, and unless you know about Virginia’s experiences and Vita’s relationships, several of the references might go over your head. If you do understand these, however, they add to the entertainment brilliantly. Overall, Vita and Virginia is a film which aims to depict an adulterous Sapphic relationship without being vulgar. For all the words to describe this film, vulgarity is not one of them. Vita and Virginia manages to make a scandalous series of events natural and enjoyable to watch. A stand out feature must be the wardrobe and set design. In particular, Vita’s silhouettes often depict the duality of how she considered her identity; split between the masculine, represented in clean tailored cuts intended to make Arterton appear taller than she is and dominant, and the feminine, shown in accessories, and glamourous make-up. She directly contrasts with the simpler femininity of the other women throughout the film, who wear more delicate, draped fabrics. Virginia’s wardrobe articulates her mental state and her lower social class. The fabrics for her outfits are noticeably lesser quality and the silhouettes are designed to be dishevelled. Often, her hair and makeup are used to present her worsening depression with great effect. Vita and Virginia are presented as flawed women and despite both being pretty unlikeable, they are easy to care for. Feminism The question of feminism when discussing Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf is an interesting one. Each are distinctly unique women, both shaped by their sex, identity, and experiences with men. Vita’s story, her sexual liberty, bearded relationship, and success in her professional and personal life is perhaps easier to depict as feminist in modern work. Her internal struggle regarding her sex and her inheritance as well as her determination to maintain her liberty and gain respect among her peers is admirable and relatable. Where she struggles against a recognisable patriarchal background, she gains sympathy and understanding. The modern audience enjoys a strong, independent woman. Virginia’s more tragic story, largely shaped by men, has often been subject to a feminist lens in an attempt to reclaim her story to fit modern definitions of gender, equality and sexuality. This film doesn’t really follow this pattern, and it is easy to forget that the Virginia on our screen was the wild, anarchical writer. It is Virginia’s, not Vita’s work which remains at the forefront of feminist literature. Vita and Virginia presents a narrative that Vita breathed life into Virginia throughout the narrative of this film, and that without her, Virginia would have struggled to be . Virginia’s writing is in danger of being pushed aside in this story, except of course for the work she produced about Vita. But, Virginia’s life was not about Vita, and the suggestion that it was, damages her impact on literary and feminist history. Is Vita and Virginia good for women’s history? Probably. Films like this one bring these individuals into the attention of audiences in an age when we can openly discuss the impact they had on each other as de facto muses, especially with the acknowledgement that Orlando is a love letter. But, as with any version of history, this shouldn’t be the only version of them. Both women were more than the people they loved, and I for one want to see Vita’s relationship with Violet explored on screen, and Virginia’s mental health, its causes and its repercussions shown in more depth. Further Reading: Vita and Virginia, dir. Chanya Button, (Bohemia Media, 2018), https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/video/detail/amzn1.dv.gti.3d8d1e48-e1bc-45d3-a4d2-aa2e34689b90?autoplay=0&ref_=atv_cf_strg_wb Beresford, George Charles, 'Woolf, (Adeline), Virginia', Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, (2004), < https://www.oxforddnb.com/display/10.1093/ref:odnb/9780198614128.001.0001/odnb-9780198614128-e-1003284?rskey=pH0ozi&result=2> Gordon, Lyndall, Virginia Woolf: A Writer's Life, (Oxford University Press, 1984) Hochstrasser, T. J. , 'West, Victoria Mary [Vita] Sackville-', Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, (2004/2017), < https://doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/35903> Lee, Hermione, Virginia Woolf, ( Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 1999) Woolf, Virginia, Orlando, (London, The Hogarth Press, 1928) Sackville-West, Vita, Woolf, Virginia, The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf, (London: Virago Press, 1992)
- Suzanne Césaire: The missing mother of the Negritude movement
Lucy Dacus famously said "always an angel never a god" and perfectly encapsulated the feeling of never quite being at the forefront, always cast into the shadows. Is it the eternal plight of women then, to be erased from the textbooks, the movements, from history itself? The Negritude movement, an anti-colonial cultural and political movement attributed to Leopold Sedar Senghor, Aime Césaire, and Leon Damas, was a truly revolutionary movement of 1930s, 40s and 50s Paris. Widely considered as the inauguration of Black humanism, this literary, cultural, and intellectual movement also signalled the birth of a Pan-Africanist philosophy. The movement was a cornerstone in the rejection of colonialism. It called for a widespread Black community of all those who lived under the lasting impacts of colonialism including the seemingly perpetual dependence on the west, and its far reaching impact is unquestionable. Though the impact of the movement cannot be understated, it is also important to acknowledge the erasure of the women vital in its creation. The androcentricity and heavy reliance on traditional gender roles evidenced in all of the ‘founding fathers’ works must also be acknowledged. Though a movement based on inclusion, the erasure of women’s work from the movement, including Suzanne Césaire’s work which this article will focus on, reveals the hostilities rampant in the movement’s foundational ideals and the wider francophone world at the time. This article focuses on the work of Suzanne Cesaire; writer, scholar, anti-colonialist, feminist, and a vital figure in Martinican literature. Written out of the Negritude movement and history as a whole due to her marriage and later divorce from Aime Césaire. Her male counterpart wrote of Martinique as a mute and sterile land with an exoticized and eroticized feminine topography. Césaire wrote of Martinique as a vibrant place of potential, of social, socio-economic and cultural complexity, and as a place of women who were far from passive and rather connected the nation's history with an evolving future. At a time when Martinican intellectuals were focussed on Blackness in Africa, Césaire looked to the US liberation movement for inspiration. Now termed the 'Madonna' of francophone modernism by recent critics for her open embrace of the cultural diversity and vitality of the Black Americas, it is some 50+ years since her death that she is being recognised as more than a footnote in her husband's works. So, why is it that for so long she was forgotten? Born in 1915 on the then French colonial territory of Martinique, Suzanne Roussi completed her schooling on the island in the French education system. She then studied literature in Toulouse and successfully made her way to the highly selective École Normale Supérieure, where she would meet fellow student and future husband Aime Césaire in 1936. They married in 1937 and had their first child in 1938 before returning to Martinique to teach. Co-founding the Martinican literary journal Tropiques in 1941, Césaire would publish seven essays in the four years the journal was active. Tropiques has been hailed as one of the, if not the most influential francophone Caribbean journal of the time and a source of opposition to the Vichy government that ruled Martinique at the time. She would, however, be written out of works surrounding Tropiques , with the focus from both critics and the public almost entirely placed on her husband instead. The end of Tropiques in 1945 also served as the ending for Suzanne Césaire’s career as a writer, now a mother of six and the wife of the deputy to the French National Assembly for Martinique. The expectations of unquantified labor that now faced her were immense, and it is fair to assume that this is likely one of the overarching reasons why she stopped writing. There is almost nothing written on Suzanne Césaire between 1945 and 1963, when she divorced Aime Césaire. It is only in recent years following the publication of T. Denean Sharpley-Whiting’s ‘Negritude Women’ in 2002 that her works have been examined since her death in 1966. Unfortunately, with almost none of her works translated to English or accessible online, she still remains a figure in the shadows. A comparison of her work to that of fellow Negritude writers reveals the depth that their work lacked, and the reliance the men of the movement placed on gender roles, an uncomfortable truth that went against their motto of inclusivity. In Notebook of a Return to the Native Land , Aime Césaire’s most notable publication, the narrator invokes “the male thirst and the stubborn desire” and women are depicted as nothing more than vessels of the future: “come the ovaries of the water where the future wriggles its tiny little heads”. In comparison is the work of Suzanne Césaire, in which she writes “here too, people are born, live, and die; here, too, the whole drama plays itself out”. Her works include complex female characters, and whilst the land is still feminized, it is with a complexity and depth that was not seen in the works of her male counterparts. The male voices of the movement heavily relied on gender stereotypes to tell tales of rebellion against the allegory of colonial force, and yet gave little space for female voices in rebellion. 19th century France, following its defeat in the Haitian revolution turned to the Black female body in order to rearticulate notions of true masculine national identity. France concentrated on the construction of Blackness in order to reconstruct Whiteness. By objectifying and constructing Blackness as something that was comedic yet hypersexual, the French attempted to reinvigorate their own identity that was based on white masculine prowess and strength. The story of Saartjie Bartman, who became known as the “Hottentot Venus” is the epitome of the relationship between colonial exploitation, White masculinity and Black femininity. Perhaps it is no coincidence that the Negritude movement, born in Francophone countries, relies on similarly reductionist expectations of gender in its pledge for liberation. Whilst the objective may have been to emancipate African culture and promote a shared consciousness, the archetypal gender roles upon which the literature is expanded mean the liberation that is spoken of is only achievable through the subsequent erasure of female agency. The very fact that Suzanne Césaire was a Black woman meant her experience was entirely different from that of her male counterparts, and that she could speak of a world that would perhaps negate the tales that they told as if they were absolutes. Though her work was ground-breaking and her wider role in the founding of the Negritude movement unquestionable, the agency that Suzanne Césaire gave the women in her writing and distancing from gendered roles did not fit into the formula of liberation that the male heads and faces of the movement imagined. The reduction of Suzanne Césaire to a footnote in the stories of Aime Cesaire’s life and stripping of her agency is reflective of the forceful removal of agency of Black women as a whole in history. It highlights the need to return to what we ‘know’ to re-examine the voices that may have been erased from the wider story. Further reading Emily C. Sheffield, ‘The Unsung Mothers of Negritude: An examination of the efforts of Women behind the movement’, Global Africana Review, 2, (Spring 2018), pp.2-10 Jacqueline Couti, ‘Am I My Sister’s Keeper? The Politics of Propriety and the Fight for Equality in the Works of French Antillean Women Writers, 1920s-40s’, in Felix Germain, Silyane Larcher, Black French Women and the Struggle for Equality, 1848-2016’, (Nebraska, 2018), pp.129-144 Kara Rabbitt, ‘In search of the missing mother: Suzanne Cesaire, Martiniquaise’, Research in African Literatures 44:1, 2013, pp.36-54 Shiera S. el-Malik, ‘Intellectual work ‘In the world’: Women’s writing and anti-Colonial thought in Africa, Irish studies in International Affairs, 24, 2013, pp.101-120 T Denean Sharpley-Witing, Negritude Women, (Minnesota, 2002). Sall, Korka, ‘Negritude Feminisms: Francophone Black Women Writers and Activists in France, Martinique, and Senegal from the 1920s to the 1980s’, (Doctoral Dissertation, University of Massachusetts Amherst, 2021). Cuadra, Bridget, ‘”We Were but Women, Real Pioneers”. La Depeche Africaine, La Revue du Monde Noir, and the Women-Centered Origins of the Negritude Movement’ (Proceedings of the National Conference on undergraduate research, Kennesaw State University, 2019). Emily Eyestone, ‘Cannibalizing Paradise: Suzanne Cesaire’s Ecofeminist Critique of Tourist Literature’, Island Studies journal, 17:2, 2022, pp.52-73
- Remembering the Female Pioneers of Early Cinema
“There is nothing connected with the staging of a motion picture that a woman cannot do as easily as a man, and there is no reason she cannot master every technicality of the art”. - Alice Guy-Blaché Like many industries today, the film industry has been subject to much scrutiny over gender discrimination, sexism and predatory behaviours within the last decade. For good reason a light has been shone on the institutional mistreatment of women - a culture that has been allowed to exist due to decades of male control within the hegemony of the large, market-leading studios. Since 2017, the #MeToo movement has been pivotal in initiating awareness and justice for victims of predators within Hollywood and the wider industry. Along with equality and diversity policies and earlier feminist efforts, the attention on the industry’s systemic gender issues is creating a platform for more women to claim positions of power and influence. This progress is perceived today as pushing the film industry forward in its inclusion of women in directorial, production-based and corporate roles. However, to talk about progress is to insinuate that the film industry of the past excluded women and forced them into positions of inferiority. While this was partly the case for a long time, the formative years of the film industry were shaped by many women who pioneered the practice and dared to experiment with the burgeoning technology of the time. For over a century these women’s contributions to cinema history have been all but forgotten. Their works have been lost, overlooked and miscredited. It’s time that these women are restored to their former glory and remembered for their valuable influence on the film industry and its future. The mother of narrative film: Alice Guy-Blaché Towards the end of the 19th century, many inventors, engineers, and entrepreneurs were caught up in the race to develop the leading method of filming and exhibiting moving pictures. Ultimately, the Lumière brothers are widely credited as the ones to do this in Paris, France, in March 1895 when they showcased their invention the Cinématographe. The Lumières’ films were essentially documentaries: minute-long depictions of ordinary life made purely to show off their new technology. While the earliest film exhibitions did attract crowds, this was based more on the aesthetic and sensational appeal of moving pictures and their novelty as a relatively new medium of entertainment. It wasn’t until later that the potential of narrative film was realised. Twenty-two year old Alice Guy was in attendance at that first commercial film screening. Secretary to Léon Gaumont (who went on to found Gaumont Film Company which became the first film studio in the world), she had developed interest and expertise in cameras through her dealings with clients and a handful of engineers. Excited by the potential of film, Guy asked Gaumont if she could make her own film, to which he agreed (as long as it didn’t interfere with her secretarial work). With the creation of La Fée Aux Choux / The Cabbage Fairy (1896), narrative film was born. Like many early films, the original version perished; Guy’s 1900 remake, depicting a fairy who conjures babies out of cabbage patches, is the version most familiar to audiences today. From 1896 to 1906, Guy was the only woman in the world creating films, making her the first female filmmaker. Gaumont soon made Guy head of production for the entire company, solidifying her significance in the history of film. She held this position until she departed to the United States in 1907 with her husband Herbert Blaché. They relocated because Herbert, who also worked for the Gaumont company, was transferred to Flushing, New York to oversee the studio there. Due to disputes over technology and film distribution rights involving Thomas Edison, by 1910 operation at the Gaumont plant had essentially ended. Seeing the opportunity presented to her, Alice Guy-Blaché established her own production company on the Gaumont site, thus founding the Solax Company. Guy-Blaché’s films at Solax are characterised by their on-location shooting and preference for realism, which differed from the convention of studio-shooting; a sign telling actors to “Be Natural” hung on one studio wall. By 1912 the Solax Company had raised enough funds for Alice (who was pregnant) and Herbert to build their own studio in Fort Lee, New Jersey. Fort Lee was emerging as a centre for early silent film production so Guy-Blaché’s presence among industry leaders signifies her success as a filmmaker. The studio successfully moved from only producing shorts to also releasing feature-length films, however growing costs and the ever-growing appeal of the West Coast later caused trouble for Solax. Alice Guy-Blaché is believed to have written, directed and produced around 1,000 films during her career. Unfortunately, only 150 are currently known to have survived; others may have been attributed to other directors, but Guy-Blaché worked tirelessly to reclaim many of her works before her death in 1963. One of her notable films from her Solax years was In The Year 2000 (1912), a remake of her 1906 Gaumont production Les Résultats du Féminisme . These films depict a world in which male and female gender roles are reversed (I'm sure Alice would've loved Greta Gerwig's Barbie ). She also created a handful of female action films, which were a timely response to the ‘serial queens’ trend in silent cinema. The ‘serial queens’ were well-loved stars of serialised short films about the adventures of female action heroes, including serials like The Perils of Pauline (1914) and The Hazards of Helen (1914-1917). Guy-Blaché is also recognised for directing one of the first films with an all-black cast, if not the first. A Fool and His Money (1912) is by no means progressive in its representation of race, but its cast represents a significant piece of cinema history. After her divorce from Herbert and handling the bankruptcy of the Solax Company in 1922, Guy-Blaché returned to Paris where she began lecturing in film. Despite assisting her ex-husband on three films in Los Angeles, Alice was largely uninvolved in the booming Hollywood scene of cinema, and her name was omitted from many historical accounts of the early cinema industry. Towards the end of her life she became focused on reclaiming her name and tracking down lost works, endeavouring to have herself remembered as the pioneer she was. Slowly, she received some film accreditation, however it was not until 1968, some years after her death, that feminist film scholars acknowledged Alice’s existence and her role in cinema history was rightfully recognised. Pamela B. Green’s 2018 documentary Be Natural: The Untold Story of Alice Guy-Blaché is a tender and informative exploration of Guy-Blaché’s work I absolutely recommend to anyone interested in learning more . America’s first female director: Lois Weber Lois Weber’s film career began in New York, where she had worked in theatre with her husband, Phillips Smalley, before working with the Rex Motion Picture Company. In 1913, the couple relocated to the ever-growing film community in Los Angeles where they signed contracts to write and direct under Universal studios. Before long, Weber, often publicly known as Mrs. Smalley, was a leading director at Universal Pictures. An early pop-culture ‘power couple’, the Smalleys collaborated on films together, but by 1916 it was evident that Lois was the dominant force in their filmmaking partnership. She wrote their scripts and directed many of their works. Phillips understood his wife’s expertise to such an extent that he was frequently observed turning to Lois for advice on important decisions. Her knowledge and artistic authority was evident in their working relationship. Weber experienced the height of her success in the mid-1910s. In these years she was often mentioned in print as one of the top Hollywood talents, considered with key filmmakers like D.W. Griffith (director of the racist film Birth Of A Nation (1915)), and Cecil B. DeMille, who later directed Sunset Boulevard (1950). In 1916 she was also the first and only woman elected to the Motion Picture Directors Association, remaining the only woman to do so before the association made way for the Screen Actors Guild in 1936. Throughout her career, Weber fostered not only her own successful career, but also the careers of various rising stars by supporting them in their journey to becoming Hollywood actresses. Following her successful years at Universal, Weber established her own company called Lois Weber Productions, in 1917. Here she was able to forgo the thematic constraints Universal placed on her (they thought the films she wanted to make were too ‘domestic’) and began making the most intimate films of her career. Under the name of her own studio she endeavoured to write more complex parts for women. She was aware of Hollywood’s inclination to prescribe women one-dimensional labels like ‘flapper’ or ‘wife.’ Weber always had a tendency to write and direct films speaking to the social issues of her time. Films such as John Doe (1916), Where Are My Children? (1916) and Shoes (1916) discussed the abolition of capital punishment, legalisation of birth control, and urban poverty, demonstrating her penchant for social commentary in her filmmaking. One of the earliest proponents for film as a powerful medium for narrative drama, Weber hoped for her films to “have an influence for good on the public mind”, distinguishing herself from other (male) filmmakers whose aim for film was to associate it with highbrow culture in order to validate itself as an artform. Like her contemporaries, Lois used new filmmaking techniques, such as split-screen ( Suspense , from 1913, or over-exposure effects ( Where Are My Children? ), but in some cases before they did. These are elements of their filmmaking that have long been praised by film historians and early film fans. However, Weber’s recognition as an experimenter has not been well documented. After only a few years, Lois Weber Productions began to struggle and Weber’s output slowed from 1922. Some have noted that the end of her marriage that year was partly to do with this, citing her dependence on Phillips in the business-side of the company as more necessary to her success than she had led people to think. However, she was not the only person or company to struggle at this time; in fact, Lois did continue making a few more films after her divorce- something that her ex-husband never attempted. More important than the divorce to her eventual decline was the changing structure of the Hollywood film industry which favoured the mass-production and investment only the large studios could afford. Many independent studios could not compete. It is commendable that Lois’ career weathered the transition from silent to sound cinema after 1929 with her final feature White Heat (1934). Remaining as early Hollywood’s only female director during the, Weber’s films took on a low cultural value. Her work was marketed as ‘women’s films’, no longer perceived with the prestige and quality of her earlier releases. Upon her death at age 60 in 1939, Lois Weber’s eulogy described her as only a “star maker”, remembered not for her own successful and celebrated career, but for her ability to begin other actresses’ careers. Tragically, her 25 years in the film industry and writing and directing credits on 40 features and 100 shorts were omitted. Fading to obscurity Towards the end of the 1920s, many filmmakers and performers failed to hold the same prestige in the film industry that they had experienced at the peak of their silent film careers since the early 1900s. Anyone who’s seen Singin’ In The Rain (1952) will understand the difficulties many careers faced during this shift to synchronised sound. Most production had moved to Hollywood, capitalist studios were beginning to hold the monopoly on distribution and exhibition, and positions within studios were becoming increasingly gendered, pushing women out of executive roles. At the beginning of their careers, female filmmakers had been relatively free to contribute to the new medium behind the scenes as no expectations of what the commercial film industry should be, or what it would become, existed. Women’s ‘moral superiority’ was actually used as a legitimation force, assuring audiences of the virtue of the new means of entertainment. As time progressed and a small collection of studios consolidated their power over the entire industry, men asserted themselves in positions of authority, while the artistic qualities associated with women and their femininity were no longer a hallmark of quality filmmaking, seen rather as excessive and outdated. Lois Weber was essentially written out of history while she was still an active filmmaker; her male contemporaries cemented their legacy while she battled to find work. Themes of being lost, disregarded, and unappreciated arise when considering early film’s female pioneers. MacMahan has named Alice Guy-Blaché “the lost visionary of cinema” and her work a “lost garden”, while Weber was “forgotten with a vengeance” according to Richard Koszarski. In fact, the presence of women within the dominant Hollywood film industry was all but nothing until many decades later, and even then it is debatable whether that has changed enough. Dorothy Arzner is regarded by many as the only female director in the “Golden Age” of Hollywood, with this title remaining well into the twentieth century. Remembering film’s female pioneers When elevating contemporary women within the film industry we should draw attention to their predecessors, who not only were a part of this burgeoning craft, but influenced the conventions we associate with commercial cinema today. Alice Guy-Blaché told The Moving Picture World in 1914 that “there is nothing connected with the staging of a motion picture that a woman cannot do as easily as a man, and there is no reason she cannot master every technicality of the art”. These words have never felt truer than today, when more women’s voices are being heard as they claim positions of artistic authority. There was never any inevitability that men would dominate filmmaking. In fact, the women active in the earliest version of the film industry held a significant share of the workload. In the act of bringing more women to the forefront today, we can also lift up these women of the past who did so much to put their mark on the history of cinema. It’s also worth noting that I’ve only mentioned two women in this article. Ruth Ann Baldwin, Nell Shipman, and the first Black female filmmaker Maria P. Williams are just a few of the incredible women whose works have been lost and unappreciated over the last 100 years. By recognising them as not only women who were trailblazers, but also as pioneering filmmakers in their own right, we challenge contemporary representations of historical women. These women’s personal achievements and names should be recognised for their importance to film history alongside other well-documented visionaries in the story of film. Further reading: Dargis, Manohla, ‘Overlooked No More: Alice Guy-Blaché, the World’s First Female Filmmaker’, The New York Times , 2019, via < https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/06/obituaries/alice-guy-blache-overlooked.html > Gaines, Jane and Radha Vatsal, ‘How Women Worked in the US Silent Film Industry’, Women Film Pioneers Project , 2011, via < https://wfpp.columbia.edu/essay/how-women-worked-in-the-us-silent-film-industry/ > McMahan, Alison, ‘Alice Guy-Blaché’, Women Film Pioneers Project , 2018, via < https://wfpp.columbia.edu/pioneer/ccp-alice-guy-blache/ > The Moving Picture World , 11 July 1914 O’Hara, Helen, Women Vs Hollywood: The Fall and Rise of Women in Film (London: Robinson, 2021) Photoplay , 1913, p. 73 Rose, Steve, ‘Why was pioneering director Alice Guy-Blaché erased from film-making history?’, The Guardian , 2020, via < https://www.theguardian.com/film/2020/jan/20/why-was-pioneering-director-alice-guy-blache-erased-from-film-making-history#:~:text=Being%20a%20woman%20was%20no,even%20attributed%20to%20the%20men. > Stamp, Shelley, ‘Lois Weber’, Women Film Pioneers Project , 2013, via < https://wfpp.columbia.edu/pioneer/ccp-lois-weber/ > Lois Weber in Early Hollywood (Oakland: University of California Press, 2015), via < https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/j.ctt13x1gnm > Filmography A Fool and His Money , dir. by Alice Guy-Blaché (The Solax Company, 1912) Be Natural: The Untold Story of Alice Guy-Blaché , dir. by Pamela B. Green (Zeitgeist Films, 2018) Danse Des Papillons , dir. by Alice Guy-Blaché (Gaumont, 1897) In The Year 2000 , dir. by Alice Guy-Blaché (The Solax Company, 1912) La Fée Aux Choux/ The Cabbage Fairy , dir. by Alice Guy-Blaché (Gaumont, 1896) Les Résultats du Féminisme , dir. by Alice Guy-Blaché (Gaumont, 1906) The People vs. John Doe , dir. by Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley (Universal, 1916) Shoes , dir. by Lois Weber (Universal, 1916) Suspense , dir. by Lois Weber (Universal, 1913) Where Are My Children? , dir. by Lois Weber (Universal, 1916) White Heat , dir. by Lois Weber (Pinnacle Production Company, 1934)
- Dancing Dames: the Women of the Mayerling Incident Represented in Ballet
Glossary Pas de Deux - A duet danced between, traditionally, a man and a woman who can be a part of the principal group of dancers or the ensemble. Corps de Ballet - The group of dancers which make up the ensemble of the ballet, excluding the principal dancers. The end of the Habsburg dynasty was unexpected and tragic. What became known as the Mayerling Incident was a murder-suicide pact proposed by crown Prince Rudolf to his mistress Maria Vetsera, who was 17 years old at the time. What truly happened the night of their death remains a mystery, but the factors leading up to the moment of their deaths allow historians to create possible scenarios to what might have happened on that fateful night of the 30th of January 1889. While the prince and his young lover were the principals, the ensemble also played important parts throughout the years that preceded the incident. The women from Austria-Hungarian monarchy and aristocracy were some of the characters with most influence in this narrative. These women played central parts in the life of Rudolf and their actions influenced him more than others. Alongside the mystery of it all, these relationships are the reason why ballet choreographer Kenneth McMillan decided to adapt this dramatic part of history and create the ballet Mayerling in 1978. This article will explore each relationship through their representation as pas de deux and the women through their solos. Analysing how each ballet persona represents the women can lead to a better understanding of their participation and motivations in relation to the circumstances that led to the incident. Mayerling Playbill Meet our principals! Below is my version of a historical 'Playbill' where you have a quick introduction to the participants of our story - and the focus of our article. The Incident Crown Prince Rudolf and Maria Vetsera met in November 1888, which marked the start of a turbulent relationship that culminated in their deaths in January 1889. The couple was introduced by Countess Marie Larisch, cousin to the prince - who had been infatuated with him for some time. The couple quickly became infatuated with each other, even being seen together on social occasions. Although Baroness Maria Vetsera was brought up alongside her sister to be married to men of higher social standings, the match was untimely as the prince was already married to Princess Stephanie of Belgium. While the Baroness was certain that her bond with the Prince was unique, she was not the only one to whom he proposed the murder-suicide pact. Mizzi Kaspar, one of his many previous mistresses, received the same proposal but was against the idea and even threatened to expose the Prince to the authorities, though she never did. Nonetheless, the connection between Rudolf and Maria was a strong one; whether it was because of lust or true love it is uncertain, but they were committed to each other enough to die together. The day before the incident, Rudolf headed to the Mayerling lodge, located 30 km from Vienna, with the tale that he was going on a hunting trip with two friends - who would end up finding the bodies of the two lovers the following morning. How Maria Vetsera arrived there is uncertain. It is known that she was previously being chaperoned by Countess Larisch for a shopping trip, who noticed the young girl went missing in the middle of the day. What went on during that final night is known only to the two lovers. Maria’s body was found naked, shot in bed, whilst Rudolf was found sitting in a chair, also shot but in possession of a gun.. Some final letters were written by the couple; these were the only proof that Maria Vetsera agreed to die alongside her lover - even then still leaving room for many a conspiracy. The Ballet Created by renowned ballet dancer and choreographer Kenneth MacMillan, adapting songs from the masterful Franz Liszt, this three-act ballet was unlike any other that preceded it. Telling a 'real life story', Mayerling was one of the great successes of MacMillan's choreography career. As it was a retelling of a historical event, MacMillan took four years to complete the ballet, due to his extensive research alongside English writer (and not historian) Gillian Freeman. As with any piece of historical fiction, it is important to question the approach of the producers in regards to their accuracy. Freeman was asked if everything that is presented in the ballet could be verified, to which she replies, "Yes, absolutely, everything.". While they do not release the sources used, my research proved it was relatively easy to compare scenes from the ballet to chapters in the history books written on the moments featured throughout the piece. During their time researching the Mayerling Incident, Freeman describes how much easier it was to obtain the correct facts regarding the beginning of the story rather than their final moments as "[...] all Rudolf's effects were destroyed". The viewer, whether aware of the historical providence of the ballet or a complete beginner on the story is able to understand each relationship portrayed and the circumstances that lead to the final tragedy. Adapting history into a medium that tells the story in movements rather than verbally might be one of the hardest approaches to dramatisation, but MacMillan not only succeeded but also created a powerful ballet exploring the psychology of these historical characters through dance. Clement Crisp, ballet critic who closely followed the work of MacMillan, describes him as a "beautiful erotic poet in movement", especially when describing his pas de deux - a key part of the Mayerling ballet used to exploring the women and the nature of their relationship with the Crown Prince portrayed in the piece. The ballet follows a timeframe of eight years but with facts coming around much quicker than they did in real time. The celebrations of the marriage between Rudolf and Stephanie and the first meeting between the Prince and the young Baroness is separated only by one act, when in reality the wedding happened seven years before the ill-fated lovers became acquainted. This quick pace is excusable as the ballet requires the story to be told solely through the emotions portrayed by the dancers. MacMillan created seven pas de deux in this ballet, all exploring the relationships between Prince Rudolf and the women around him. Each dance represents his search for love and his failure to find it, time and time again. The Women This section will explore the women individually. It will discuss their portrayal in the ballet, and whether their pas de deux with Prince Rudolf and the solo performances are an accurate reflection of the real women which inspired these dancing dames. Finally, each section will attempt to establish whether their portrayal is positive for their individual narratives as women and if they are truly accurate to the facts and 'image' that they were portrayed as throughout history. Empress Elisabeth, the Distant Mother One of the most well known monarchs in Austrian history, Elisabeth of Bavaria is represented throughout Mayerling as a strong Empress and a distant mother. She married young and in love, and was not the biggest fan of court life. Whilst she did care for her children, she did so only from afar - especially when it came to her only son. He was sent away from a young age to be trained for military and imperial life. Elisabeth’s mother-in-law believed that the empress would be unable to raise the heir to the throne and thus distanced her from her son, something that would arguably lead to the development of Rudolf’s darker personality. Elisabeth, or Sissi as she was called by her family, grew up being encouraged by her parents to revel in the country and her creativity. Her love story with the Emperor-to-be was portrayed by many a movie through the years - with the 1955 picture starring Romy Schneider being one of the most famous, and romanticised. Nonetheless, her wondrous love story lost its strength as the years went by and imperial duties required her and Franz Joseph to spend time apart. Her relationship with Rudolf also became damaged as time went by due to the distance and lifestyle. During the first act of the ballet, there is a heavy focus on Rudolf's relationship with his mother. From her disappointment in finding him in a kiss with her niece to a heartbreaking pas de deux where we witness a desperate Rudolf looking for his mothers approval, understanding and love. Throughout the dance, Elisabeth is portrayed as a strong woman in her beliefs, not even letting her son’s cry for help affect her - at the very start of the choreography in this section she gently pushes away from his embrace. With the idea of a strong woman commonly being juxtaposed with the one of a good mother, throughout Elisabeth's narrative this is instead portrayed as joint aspects of her character. The Empress is portrayed as trying to be a good mother by maintaining her strength. One of her attempts to maintain Rudolf's image - as much of it was left to salvage anyway - is represented when she intensely charges towards her niece, Countess Larisch, when the woman is found in Rudolf's bedroom attempting once more to seduce her cousin. After all she could not have the prince having an affair with a married woman in court. Striking fear and stating her position in the dynamic allows the viewer to perceive her as a strong-willed woman that Sissi the Empress truly was. After this episode of "motherly love" the Empress is only seen in instances where the entire court is present - with a small focus on her alleged affair with Scottish hunter George 'Bay' Middleton, something that deeply bothered Rudolf. No matter how many affairs he had, how dare his mother cheat on his father? Her presence in the ballet is strong and memorable, much as the Empress herself was. Princess Stephanie of Belgium, the Neglected Wife Princess Stephanie met Prince Rudolf as a young girl. She was 15 when they fell in love, and the Austrian heir, who was already 20, proposed not long after their introduction. From the start of their relationship she was not favoured by the Empress, who did bless their union, but this was simply out of obligation. Despite this, the couple got married in 1881 and had a lovely start to their marriage - something that did not last for long. As time went by, the two realised just how little they had in common and Rudolf maintained many mistresses throughout their years together. Something that helps historians better understand Stephanie's relationship with Rudolf and her life within the Austrian court is an autobiography. Stephanie wrote a book about her marriage - from the early days of their relationship until the Prince's death. Throughout it she discusses the first year of their marriage in a very impersonal way, something that makes clear just how much the couple distanced from one another as the years went by. More interesting aspects of her book are her relationship with the Empress, who was very open about her feelings towards Stephanie but still 'used' the princess as a stand-in for events she did not desire to attend, and how the Austrian court made no effort to include or even care for her after the Prince died. The undermining of the Princess by the court, while not shown in the ballet, deserves to be included in this analysis as it most likely happened due to her "inability to have an heir" - her sole task in the eyes of the court. While she did have a daughter with Rudolf, this failure to have a son is believed to be Rudolf's fault. Due to his many affairs, Rudolf contracted syphilis and, it is rumoured, passed it onto Stephanie who became infertile. This was not mentioned by Stephanie in her writing. The portrayal of their marriage in the ballet is not introduced with the initial happiness that the couple lived through. During the celebrations of their union, Rudolf is seen flirting and dancing with another woman: Stephanie's sister. This betrayal with her sister creates the image of Rudolf as someone that did not care for Stephanie or their marriage from the start - something fabricated by MacMillan to move the story in a faster pace. Stephanie, who has her own solo and a pas de deux with Rudolf at the end of Act 1, is only seen briefly during the second act when her husband takes her along to one of his nights of dalliances at a pub - which has a masterful choreography for the corps de ballet. After her escape from the unsolicited outing with Rudolf, she is no longer a focus for the ballet, or for her husband, who, that evening, is introduced to Maria Vetsera. Stephanie's solo and her pas de deux with Rudolf at the end of act one are meant to represent their wedding night, with striking differences between both. Throughout her solo, the princess is pictured waiting for her new husband, undressed by her ladies in waiting and practically floating through the stage with a sad aspect (but even then that could represent the initial bliss from the first year of their marriage). However, this quickly changes upon Rudolf's arrival, with an aggressive and nerve-wracking choreography taking place between the two. [TRIGGER WARNING: mention of Sexual Assault] Princess Stephanie dances a terrifying pas de deux with Prince Rudolf at the end of act one. From the end of her solo, which she dances peacefully to the encounter with her new husband which from the beginning of the dance shows his aggression towards her. Scaring Stephanie with a human skull and a gun - objects which the real Prince did have in his study - the dance evolves into a chase between prey and predator. With effortless lifts, in which the ballerina shivers her entire body so the audience understands just how afraid the Princess would have been, and forceful movements led by the male dancer, it is clear that the scene we are witnessing between the couple is one of sexual assault. MacMillan mentions in the 1978 documentary that the scene represents their wedding night and reflects on Rudolf's fascination with death and the pressure on him to produce an heir. The product of this was the strong and fearful rape scene in the ballet. Whether their relationship involved these sad moments is uncertain - it was never alluded by Stephanie in her book nor mentioned in Rudolf's farewell letter found after his suicide. It brings into question the necessity for such a strong scene to end act one. Could it be there to suggest the change of sentiment regarding their marriage or was it simply trying to make Rudolf a villain? The use of such a violent scene is a very deliberate artistic choice on MacMillan's part, especially by portraying such a moment in their wedding night, a time when the couple still believed their union would be a happy one. Overall, Princess Stephanie - whilst she is an important person to the narrative and history, in the ballet, she is simply the personification of the duties that Rudolf was meant to achieve - produce an heir, have a loving family as his parents ascend to the throne - and he failed in all of them. Nonetheless, for the one member of the Austrian court who produced a book about the incident (published in 1935), the princess seems to be as neglected in the ballet as she was in her marriage. The story she tells is simply of a victim who suffered from a wedding for political reasons, when it was originally in fact out of adoration for one another. Countess Marie Larisch, the Flirtatious Cousin Marie Larisch could be described as the instigator of the incident if Rudolf had not presented suicidal thoughts previously - but she was definitely a facilitator. She was the cousin who wished for his love but was denied it by Rudolf himself and his mother - who, upon realising this attraction, made sure to find a husband for her niece. Whether she stopped flirting with the prince it can not be said for certain - something the ballet portrays really well. Larisch herself was not known for her good manners, and was more noted for her “arrogant” attitude that drove much of the Austrian court away. She became an easy “target” for MacMillan to paint in the ballet with a negative light. She dances one of the first pas de deux of the ballet with Rudolf. Throughout it there is a duality in how the prince receives her approaches - from an initial acceptance to the attempts to push her away, represented by lifts, pirouettes and actual pushes woven into the dance. The section finishes with Larisch stealing a kiss and being caught by the Emperor and Empress who, while being represented as shocked, do not cause a scene as this was at the end of the wedding celebration, simply allowing Rudolf to walk away with his bride. The Countess returns several times throughout the ballet, being instrumental on the introduction of young Vetsera and the prince. In the ballet, she convinces the young girl that the couple are destined to be together with what seems to be a spread of tarot cards - making an exchange for the final card, representing their doomed future, as if the woman knew that the match would be fatal. Now, it is obvious that this was entirely fabricated by MacMillan. To predict that not only the murder-suicide pact would be proposed but accepted by Vetsera is something that in no way the Countess was capable of doing - but as they needed a "villain," and she paid this price. However, she was still blamed by the Empress for Rudolf's death and never saw her aunt again, having been banished by the Viennese court altogether. The final time we see Marie Larisch is during a pas de deux in Rudolf's bedroom, in which he is clearly ill - both in his physical and mental health. The Countess attempts to help the young man with whom she was infatuated, as she finds him soon after administering a dose of morphine (something to which he became addicted). Even then, at his most fragile state, Rudolf continuously tries to get rid of her, helped by his mother once she enters the room and discovers the Countess there. A woman who was denied the attention of the man she desired, Marie Larisch can be described - both in real life and at the ballet - as scorned. She was blamed for the tragic ending of the Habsburg dynasty, something that she could not control but the Viennese society made sure she was punished for it. Throughout the ballet, she is portrayed as slightly desperate, whether for love or lust, it is up for the audience to decide - though in real life she was most likely desperate for attention than anything else. She went on to work for the film industry, fueling them with information about the Habsburgs - even assisting with the production for a short period of time. Baroness Maria Vetsera, the Naïve Mistress Finally, it is time to discuss the otherwise unknown to history, Maria Vetsera. The young mistress who believed herself so in love with the Austrian prince that she accepted to end her life alongside him. Whether she was coerced to end her life or not, is a question that might never be answered, though in her farewell letter to her mother she states that "[...] I could not resist love [...] I am happier in death than life" making historians believe that she was in agreement with the pact. In the ballet, MacMillan represents the young Vetsera as a sensual, excited character with the prospect of being introduced to the prince. During the performance one forgets that she is meant to be a 17 year old girl as she is at times portrayed as a temptress. However, MacMillan representing Maria in such light also alludes to how the girl was perceived by the late 19th century Austrian society. Having a more "advanced" figure from a young age, she had always attracted the attention of men who would be unaware of the young age of the girl. Throughout the ballet, Maria can be seen as both the young and trusting girl who was in love with a prince and, at times, as the erotic lover that Rudolf lusted after. Very little is known about her real self other than the fact she was raised to aim for a fortuitous social match. Her family, even though they had connections with the royals, was not part of the court and Maria was therefore not a public person before the start of her affair with the crown prince. All of the pas de deux between the lovers are charged with sexual or romantic energy. At the beginning of their first dance together she arrives in his bedroom wearing a large coat that is quickly removed to reveal a sheer and loose fitting nightgown. This first duet is incredibly sensual, with the choreography alluding to sexual activity with different lifts and poses throughout it. Something very important about this section is the representation of Maria's lack of fear of Rudolf's unusual interests, represented by her playing with his gun and dancing with the human skull he keeps. Their final dance represents the moments before their deaths at Mayerling and, according to what is believed to have happened, Maria is the first to die. Beforehand however, their final moments together are represented in the last pas de deux. A very emotionally charged dance, they cling onto one another until the moment that they planned arrives. The public sees the couple together for a final time before hearing a gunshot and a distraught Rudolf comes back onto the front of the stage, doing a final tragic solo before joining his lover in death. This difference at the time of their deaths aligns with the way their bodies were found at the lodge - Maria's body already cold and Rudolf dead more recently. The reason for this is one of the many mysteries of the Mayerling Incident. In many ballets, the first and final scene are the same - for Mayerling it is no different. The first scene introduced to the audience is of a funeral, with no pomp and few people present. It is only at the end that we find out that the simple funeral was Maria's, but this simplicity was not because of her class, but to hide the truth of the Prince's death. While both of them requested to be buried together, to acknowledge the suicide of the heir to the throne would be not only be scandalous, but also would mean that he would not be granted the royal burial his parents wished for him. Therefore, they blamed his death on his weak health, something known to the Austrian public, and made sure to bury his mistress in a hidden and far away location. Her mother would not be told where Maria's body was for two years. Our finale Whether the ballet holds a feminist undertone to it, the answer is probably no - especially as the main character is Prince Rudolf; his relationships with these women simply guide the story. Their importance throughout is undeniable, with their ballet personas being most often similar to the reality of each of these 19th century women. Nonetheless, the fact that these women were well-portrayed through the ballet, regarding their personalities, status and character, is incredibly important for women's history. Even though they are not the focal point of the story and the ballet would definitely not pass the Bechdel Test, they are key parts of the portrayal of this moment in history. They are not only remembered but also introduced to different audiences - those who might be familiar with history, or who were drawn in simply by the status of a MacMillan ballet. These audience members will become aware of the story of each of these women and thus ensure that they are not forgotten or written out of this narrative. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ If you're interested in watching the ballet in its entirety, the following streaming services (both with free trial periods) have professional recordings: MarqueeTV and Royal Opera House. Further reading Barkeley, Richard, and Phyllis Auty. 1959. ‘Review of the Road to Mayerling: Life and Death of Crown Prince Rudolph of Austria’, The Slavonic and East European Review , 37.89: 543–46 Condé Nast. 2022. ‘The True Story behind Mayerling, Brought Back by the Royal Ballet This October’, Tatler Derek Bailey. 1978. ‘Mayerling: South Bank Special, Part 2, 1978.’, Www.youtube.com Hamann, Brigitte. 2012. The Reluctant Empress: A Biography of Empress Elisabeth of Austria , Google Books (Faber & Faber) Parry, Jann. 2010. Different Drummer: The Life of Kenneth MacMillan , Google Books (Faber & Faber) Rezzutti, Paulo , and Cláudia Thomé Witte. 2022. Sissi E O Último Brilho de Uma Dinastia (Leya) Schönbrunn Group. [n.d.-a]. ‘CSI Mayerling – How Did the Crown Prince Really Die?’, Die Welt Der Habsburger - the World of the Habsburgs Schönbrunn Group . [n.d.-b]. ‘An Unhappy Union: Rudolf and Stephanie’, Die Welt Der Habsburger - the World of the Habsburgs
- The 1960s Asylum Setting: Lived by Women, Hijacked by Men
What do Girl, Interrupted, American Horror Story, and the work of Sylvia Plath have in common? Aside from being my teenage favourites, they all lay their scenes in mental health institutions during the 1960s. You’d think that this makes them all relatively similar works but the setting in these three works (and those associated) is complicated by genre and gender. For each of these works, there are what I’m calling ‘firsthand participants’ - the speaker or character the audience allies themselves to when first reading or watching - and ‘secondhand participants’, who hijack the text and manipulate thematic elements to benefit their directorial lens. In these instances, it just so happens that the firsthand participants are women (Susanna Kaysen, Lana Winters, and the speaker in Plath’s poetry) who have occupied the 1960s Asylum setting against their will. Can you guess from the title who the secondhand participants are? The 1960s asylum setting is fundamental to the second season of American Horror Story and is not exactly concerned with historical accuracy, as you can tell from the following endorsement from The Guardian: “Ask 100 people what scares them and you'll get 100 different answers. This show aims to cater for every one of that hundred, and many more besides, by throwing a dizzying variety of horror at the screen”. Obviously, there’s a number of speculative elements introduced into the setting which have to work within the context of the horror genre so the asylum becomes a place of abuse, mistreatment and dread rather than one of recovery care. In doing so, the audiences attention is draw towards Nazi doctors, aliens, and demonic posession instead of focusing on character experiences and what a modern audience would consider the actual horrific elements to be: electro-shock therapy, conversion therapy, medical malpractice by the Church, and lobotomising patients against their will. In addition to this, sex and sexual violence are used to further the plot without any investment in the repercussions. The main example of this is Lana Winters storyline, in which she is falsely imprisoned in Briarcliff Manor, then falsely imprisoned again when she tries to escape with her psychiatrist, the Bloodyface killer, who involuntarily impregnates her. As a result, her character undergoes round after round of mental, emotional and sexual trauma and the repeated violation of the female body to the extent that it becomes near impossible to separate womanhood and brutality. Carol Clover suggests that “if it is [...] the case that the act of horror spectatorship is itself registered a “feminine” experience - that the shock effects induce in the viewer bodily sensations answering the fear and pain of the screen victim - the charge of masochism is underlined”, which suggests that the price of prioritising the female narrative and firsthand participant is excessive violence as an unavoidable rite of passage. In doing so, series creators Murphy and Falchuk compound the liminality of the asylum setting with gendered trauma to divert the audiences’ attention away from the missed opportunities to discuss the ‘real life’ horrors in favour of the speculative ones. Unlike American Horror Story: Asylum, Girl, Interrupted straddles the line between memoir and narrative non-fiction as Susanna Kaysen recounts her lived experience of being institutionalised in McLean Hospital. Somewhat similar to Plath’s the Bell Jar, this is told through a series of pseudo-biographical vignettes where the author plays the role of subject and surveyor. However, the film adaptation restructures the source material in favour of plot and psychological drama and the fact that Susanna Kaysen herself remarks that “Girl, Interrupted is material [she] never wanted to fictionalize” implies that the film manipulates the past for the sake of profitability. The 1999 film takes the ‘series of narrative snapshots’ and creates a story that features Kaysen’s real friendships during her time at the institution, rather than revolving around them. One would think that by not choosing to capitalise on the acclaim attached to McLean Hospital - where the likes of Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Robert Lowell, Ray Charles and James Taylor all spent time - the director, James Mangold, would apply the same level of respect to the real patients and friends Kaysen wrote about. The casting of well-known actors also detracts from the vivid authenticity that the memoir was praised for, as the reader notes the impact and influence the patients have on each other throughout their stays because they’re ‘unknown’. While “Kaysen acknowledged that the change of her story was necessary for the change in medium”, the casting of Angelina Jolie - an undoubtedly international sex symbol - is almost disruptive and contradictory to this perception of the group as a whole, rather than Susanna and Lisa as main characters with A-List actors. The film adaptation almost does things in reverse in this sense: the asylum setting in the memoir is pre-established and the reader becomes aware of its notoriety while the ‘characters’ are remain ‘characters’ to the reader, as told by Kaysen herself. James Mangold’s adaptation springboards off of lived experience and, though you could argue that Susanna Kaysen does the same by monetising her account and the accounts of others, she does not employ hyperbole or fabricate events to do so. Her firsthand experience of the 1960s asylum is subsequently hijacked and overshadowed. With Sylvia Plath’s work, it’s sometimes difficult to distinguish her personhood from the subject of her work due to the nature of the confessional poetry genre. The use of vivid allusion and metaphor sometimes make it difficult to establish Plath’s work as anything but autobiographical, especially when it comes to how her work revolves around her relationship with her father, Otto, and her husband, Ted Hughes. Parvin Ghasemi even suggests that ‘her work [...] exhibits a rebellion against the confinement of ‘self’ in the bondage of conformity and subjection and suggests an outlet of expression which indicates the individual’s struggle to liberate ‘self’ from the bondage of social conformity and dispossession.’. However, I believe this passes the buck back to Plath herself as the only agent and executor of her own discontentment, when in reality this would be a naive suggestion to make in light of more modern understanding of mental health and institutionalisation. The year leading up to Plath’s suicide was particularly tumultuous, with her husband embarking on an affair with another woman while she was left to be a single mother. Despite this, Ted Hughes controversially inherited her assets and legacy as they were legally married at the time of Plath’s death and there is some argument to suggest that this enabled Hughes to doctor her works, letters and legacy to remove any allegations of wrongdoing on his behalf. The poem, Daddy, is often signposted as a conduit for Plath’s personal turmoil: ‘But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you,' This stanza briefly takes us through Plath’s life to the writing of the poem; the speaker’s suicide attempt is foiled as she is revived by doctors (‘they’) and apparently repaired, provoking her to replicate her complicated father-daughter relationship through her romantic relationship. The speaker recounts their life story, and it becomes apparent that their agency is dominated and therefore hijacked by two prominent authoritarian male figures. In summary, I would contend that the recounts of ‘first-hand’ participants in American Horror Story: Asylum, Girl, Interrupted and Plath’s confessional poetry are marginalised for the purpose of male gain. Though gender is an active factor in the way these depictions of 1960s asylums are presented, the second-hand accounts of setting bulldoze over ‘lived’ experience for profitability and reputation. In addition to this, it is particularly ironic that these accounts were taken during a crucial point in the Feminist Liberation Movement - when women were raising their voices for equality and intersectionality - yet still buried or piggybacked off by men in the decades to come. So while it is true that the 1960s asylum setting functions within multiple genres, it is hijacked by men for convenience and profit because, to the capitalist patriarchy we continue to exist in, the stories of women in crisis are more attractive than the recovery and rehabilitation of the women themselves. Further reading Primary Sources American Horror Story: Asylum, FX. October 2012 –January 2013 Girl, Interrupted, dir. James Mangold (Columbia, 1999) Kaysen, Susanna, Girl, Interrupted (Virage Press Ltd, 2003) Plath, Sylvia, ‘Daddy’, in Ariel. Faber and Faber, 1965. Secondary Sources Clover, Carol J. ‘Her Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film’, in Men, Women and Chainsaws (B.F.I. Pub.) 1992. p.61 Danker, Jared. 2003. ‘Susanna Kaysen, without Interruptions’, The Justice < https://www.thejustice.org/article/2003/02/susanna-kaysen-without-interruptions > [accessed 22 September 2023] Ghasemi, Parvin. 2008. ‘Violence, Rage, and Self-Hurt in Sylvia Plath’s Poetry’, CLA Journal, 51.3: 284–303 Johnson, Alex. 1994. ‘A Conversation with Susanna Kaysen’, Agni, pp. 99–107 O’Neill, Phelim, ‘American Horror Story – Box Set Review’, The Guardian (Guardian News and Media, 2014) [accessed 16 September 2023]
- Vengeful Spirits, Wronged Women, and Cursed Video Tapes: How the Onryo Became a Horror Icon.
Glossary Onryo: There are many different varieties of spirits in Japanese culture, but I focus on the Onryo, which is, according to the encyclopaedia of Japan, a vengeful spirit separated from a dead person that is feared to bring disaster. The spirit is not inherently gendered, though I use feminine pronouns due to the modern, Western association that has been formed, as well as because the ghosts shown in Japanese horror films around the turn of the century were almost exclusively vengeful, dead women. Noh and Kabuki: Two forms of Japanese theatre and performance art. Nenbutsu and Amida: Repetition of the name for the principle Buddha of Pure Land Buddhism (Amida). Internationalisation and Globalisation: The processes undertaken by many countries during the 20th Century, where the country would experience rapid development, industrial growth, liberalisation, and connection to other countries across the globe either directly or indirectly assisted by dominant Western powers such as the USA. Sometimes, this is pejoratively referred to as Westernisation. You sit down in the dark and you insert the tape. The VHS player whirrs into action and you don’t even need to click play before the infamous footage begins. Several seemingly incoherent images flash up on your television set: a girl brushing her hair, letters dancing across the screen, and a distant well in a forest. From this point on, you have seven days to pass on the tape, else you will meet your fate with a vengeful spirit. Long, black, wet hair covers most of her front and poking out beneath it are deathly pale limbs clothed in a white dress. In modern times, Sadako, the murderous spirit from Ringu , is the most known iteration of this ghost, not only due to the international success of the film from which she stems, but also because she really was the first to properly tie the look with the effects of new media technologies and globalisation through the totally arresting image depicted above. There are few moments in horror as confounding as Sadako leaning into and through the TV set. Sadako could be seen as a modern take on the myth of the Onryo, a type of spirit belonging to a person who died with a grudge. The Onryo is now one of horror’s most ubiquitous monsters but not many people know just how far-reaching her history is. Besides Japanese horror classics such as Ju-On: The Grudge (2002) or Ringu (1998), this ghostly figure had its roots in Japanese myths and religious beliefs, was adopted into the theatrical arts, and now has been totally appropriated into cheap Hollywood remakes. This article traces the history of the vengeful spirit and how it came to be an embodiment of Japanese globalisation-anxiety by exploiting the trope of the ghost girl in horror. Death has for a long time been regarded with a particular sense of dread and superstition in Japanese religion and mythology. A “bad death” in particular was deemed to be a pollutant to the world of the living. If, say, a person died with an unresolved grudge in their life, it was believed that they would be unable to pass on to the afterlife and thus would have to wander and haunt the world of the living, affecting especially their families. Belief in these spirits rose to prominence during the Heian period (between 794 and 1185), beginning as a belief held amongst the higher classes of society and spreading to common people in the following centuries. These were the beginnings of the Onryo, and it was not necessarily a woman, though now it is so often associated in the West with the idea of a monstrous-woman. In fact, many battlefields were sites of religious practice where Buddhist priests would offer to pray Nenbutsu (a buddhist, often melodic prayer to Amida, the principal Buddha of Pure Land Buddhism) on dead or dying soldiers who wanted safe passage into Amida’s paradise. If a mother died during childbirth, this was also deemed to be unnatural and would turn her spirit into a very dangerous ghost, which shows early on there were grounds for engendering and highlighting the role of femininity or motherhood in the Onryo. Crucially, the Onryo was also believed to not only be responsible for their enemy’s death but also capable of causing disasters such as earthquakes. As we will see later on, these are key elements to understanding the millennial Onryo. The myth of the Onryo became incorporated into noh theatre, a form of drama that involved various forms of expression from singing and dancing to storytelling and costume-making. The Onryo is one of the few key archetypes of mask in this form of theatre, alongside those like Jo and Kishin for elder characters and demons, respectively.The Onryo mask was designed to strike fear into the hearts of audiences, with its twisted features and glaring eyes. The mask draws inspiration from the myth, as often the strength of the spirit (and by extension its grudge) would affect the mask’s design and how snarled it was made to look. Another form of theatre called kabuki established the most popular depiction of the Onryo, and it is the one that we would recognise even today. The design goes as far back as the Edo period (1603-1868) and was important in allowing the audience to distinguish between characters, since kabuki was mostly played by one actor (originally either male or female but gradually becoming more male-dominant). A white burial kimono, long, black, wild hair, and make-up that made the ghost look pale with accentuated blue features to make the face as striking as possible. This trend popularised the Onryo as feminine and as villainous, since the make-up look was similar to the depictions of villains in kabuki, too. Kabuki proved to be a great space for the Onryo to rise in popularity; the plays were often about moral conflict and relationships of the heart, while the stages were equipped with gadgets such as trapdoors to allow the ghost to appear suddenly. Oiwa is the Onryo in Japan’s famous ghost story Yotsuya kaidan . The tale has been performed on stage, film, and beyond, by telling the story of a woman brutally murdered by her husband returning as a ghost to seek revenge. The story’s influence on the modern Onryo cannot be understated. The visual aspect and narrative structure are crucial to the way Sadako, for one, was created. Also, the tale is accompanied by the legend of a curse; retelling the story, it has been told, leads to suffering, while in Ringu the tape haunted by Sadako can be passed on to avoid death. Another very famous tale of the Onryo involves three real men who were said to have become vengeful spirits after their political power was stripped from them. Sugawara no Michizane, born in 845, was one of them and the belief was that anyone who plotted against him died suspiciously. This shows that as much as the stereotype drifted towards feminising the Onryo, its roots are not so gendered. Ringu is certainly the most famous cinematic depiction of the Onryo. Not only did it become the highest grossing horror in Japan, it also was a hit in the home media market, which made films much more easily exportable to the UK and US. Sadako is the vengeful spirit in question and she holds her grudge due to her childhood trauma caused by adults exploiting her extrasensory perception powers that allow her to be telekinetic. While still a child, she was murdered by an ESP doctor who was investigating her case. In the present day, her curse spreads through a video tape that is passed around by young people. Reiko is a journalist who is investigating these mysterious and brutal deaths caused by the tape, and she enlists the help of her ex-husband to track down the Onryo, involuntarily exposing their son to their dangerous work. Sadako invokes many of the antiquated myths of the Onryo: she looks like the kabuki representation of the ghost and holds a deep grudge against those who wronged her, while also being capable of harming anyone who dares watch her cursed video tape. The modernistic aspect of Sadako comes in with the fact she occupies and lives through technology; technology literally re-generates the myth of the Onryo into the present day. She embodies very relevant anxieties surrounding Japanese identity in a modernised/Westernised world. After World War II, Japan was occupied by allied forces, mostly Americans, and entered a rapid process known as internationalisation. After millennia of mostly being an isolated and individualistic empire, Japan had quite suddenly become exposed to a lot of new influences on many levels of society, most importantly on an economic level. Through foreign, freed trade, Japan became a leader in information technologies and in various media spaces. Japanese horror was an offspring of that development. On the other hand, Japanese culture, films and all, quickly began flowing into Western homes. This offered film critics and academics a space to explore how these films expressed the fears of the neo-liberalised reality from which they spawned. The Onryo herself then serves as an amalgam of Japanese culture and some Hollywood horror tropes. Ironically, the Japanese film industry was, in its infancy, very opposed to Hollywood’s influences and much more aligned with Kabuki lighting and staging. However, blockbuster horror and its psychosexual ideology left a clear mark on the construction of the filmic Onryo. For decades, psychoanalysis and feminist readings had dominated academic discourse on horror films, so naturally a new feminine monster will catch the attention of critics. Sadako represents a “return of the repressed,” a pivotal concept in horror developed by Barbara Creed. Sadako’s trauma caused her to become the Onryo as she died with a grudge. She is also an example of abject horror: something that shows the breakdown of borders, boundaries and natural order. Her corporeality comes to be only when she crawls through a TV screen, defying the ‘natural’ voyeuristic relationship between audience and screen, and in the climax of Ringu her abjection reaches a peak when she kills off Reiko’s ex-husband. These are both horror ideas associated with feminine sexuality in particular. Julia Kristeva’s analysis of abject horror highlights the evocation of birth giving as a form of abjection, as well as the connotations of penetration inherent to the slasher film, since the ‘psycho’ murderer is very often depicted as a sexually disturbed individual. Notable examples include Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees/his mother, Norman Bates, and Leatherface. Kristeva and many other critics of the genre point out the sexual dilemmas at the core of these films as characteristic of the genre, as well as of the broader gender-focused commentary within these films. Ringu is similar since it also shows the resummoning of a serial-killer-like character in Sadako, though the violence in the film occurs not through bloody, stabby rampages but through the act of looking, otherwise known as voyeurism. Voyeurism, the fetish of observation, is a myth closely tied to classical cinematic structure and film viewership. It is the unspoken rule of cinema that visual pleasure is what draws an audience to the cinema and the film frames the spectator, regardless of their gender, as masculine looking and holding power over what is on the screen. Sadako’s ‘rule’ that all who watch her tape, indulging in her traumatic past, must die is a counter-attack against the desire to look. This attack expands to Japan’s culture at large. In a now rapidly globalising country, Japanese people can feel the influence of the West laid upon them as well as the objectifying Orientalist gaze. Sadako is a sort of double-threat as both a response to these fears and the root of them. Her attacks on family and technology reflect the abject nature of Japanese modernity, through the filmic depictions of Japan’s borders and technology. It is no wonder that there are so many scenes in Japanese horror that take place on the coast. Horror films often choose the targets of their deaths very carefully, and Reiko’s husband is no different. He is punished for representing a fracture in the traditional family unit: he is a divorcee, who prioritised uncovering the repressed narrative of Sadako, jeopardising the potential to get back together with his ex-wife, his co-sleuth in tracking down the origins of Sadako’s Onryo. The family unit was very much an important stake in Japanese horror, as family men, children, and homes are at the forefront of these narratives. This reflects the changing meaning of family life in Japan in the last century. Much like many Western countries after World War II, Japan saw an increase in divorce rates, particularly in the 1970s and 80s. Feminist movements prompted difficult conversations about coming to terms with liberalisation and its effects on the family unit. Other films that approach this topic include Audition (1999), which told the story of a single man looking to exploit young women in the acting business before meeting his untimely demise to a woman who was sexually traumatised in her childhood years. New media technologies also had a profound effect on Japanese horror narratives, as the video tape, though going out of fashion at the time, was used as a medium to bridge the Onryo with the terrifying present and the traumatic past. Other films like Ju-on: The Grudge also use TV screens to great effect in their diegesis. The legacy left behind by the Onryo is important, as it shows a cruel, almost ironic turn of fate for her and what she stands for. For a split second, she became emblematic of the anxieties surrounding globalisation, but a few years and remakes later, she became just another commodity for the international film business to exploit. The Asia Extreme physical media label, for example, was the label that brought the films over to Western territories such as the UK and US, with some very bold marketing techniques. The founder of Tartan Films (owner of the label) was supposedly blown away by two landmark films in the J-Horror wave in Ringu and Audition , which inspired him to establish the label. Novelty items, problematic word association, and generating a sense of otherness and extremity linked to Asian filmmakers were some of the tricks used by the company to sell these films as aesthetically thrilling alternatives to what Hollywood put out. This had a lasting effect on the perceptions of violence in these films. For example, the horrific events that unfolded at the Virginia Tech University shooting in 2007 were discussed by the media as potentially motivated by a violent, action film from South Korea called Oldboy , solely based on the tenuous logic that two of twenty photographs sent by the perpetrator bore similarity to the film. This reflects two ideological problems in the way that Japanese horror, and perhaps Asian filmmaking more generally faced during this time when the West’s soft power was increasing globally. Imports were homogenised, stripped of their complexity and individuality. They were also marketed on whatever terms the West chose. In the years after Japanese horror’s millennial peak, the myth was appropriated by Hollywood with mixed effectiveness. The inevitable remakes largely were mediocre and lost the deeper meaning behind the originals. From the myth to the movie, these ghosts developed a lot in their look and ideology, evolving to represent a “prosthetic trauma” in Japan. Her popularity evoked a general agreement that Japanese culture was under threat and it was too late to do anything but cash-in. In a way, what the Onryo came to represent, she came to be through American media. She even made appearances in some video games and merchandising. Commodified and boxed up, the Onryo now comfortably lives in the pantheon of horror monsters, though her legacy is much deeper than that. Bibliography Antoni, Klaus. “Yasukuni-Jinja and Folk Religion: The Problem of Vengeful Spirits.” Asian Folklore Studies , vol. 47, no. 1, 1988, pp. 123–36. Balanzategui, Jessica. "6. The Prosthetic Traumas of the Internal Alien in Millennial J-Horror". The Uncanny Child in Transnational Cinema: Ghosts of Futurity at the Turn of the Twenty-first Century , Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2018, pp. 185-216. Bingham, Adam. “JAPANESE HORROR CINEMA.” Contemporary Japanese Cinema Since Hana-Bi, Edinburgh University Press, 2015 Cagle, Robert L. “The Good, the Bad, and the South Korean: Violence, Morality, and the South Korean Extreme Film.” Horror to the Extreme: Changing Boundaries in Asian Cinema , edited by Jinhee Choi and Mitsuyo Wada-Marciano, Hong Kong University Press, 2009, pp. 123–44. Creed, Barbara. “HORROR AND THE MONSTROUS-FEMININE: An Imaginary Abjection.” The Monster Theory Reader, edited by Jeffrey Andrew Weinstock, University of Minnesota Press, 2020. Kawashima, Takeyoshi, and Kurt Steiner. “Modernization and Divorce Rate Trends in Japan.” Economic Development and Cultural Change , vol. 9, no. 1, 1960, pp. 213–39. Klemperer-Markham, Ayala, and Ofra Goldstein-Gidoni. “Socialist Egalitarian Feminism in Early Postwar Japan: Yamakawa Kikue and the ‘Democratization of Japan.’” U.S.-Japan Women’s Journal , no. 42, 2012, pp. 3–30. Parker, Helen S. E.. Progressive traditions : an illustrated study of plot repetition in traditional Japanese theatre. Boston, Brill, 2006. Shin, Chi-Yun. “The Art of Branding: Tartan ‘Asia Extreme’ Films.” Horror to the Extreme: Changing Boundaries in Asian Cinema, edited by Jinhee Choi and Mitsuyo Wada-Marciano, Hong Kong University Press, 2009 Shively, H. Donald, Hall, John Whitney. The Cambridge History of Japan. United Kingdom, Cambridge University Press, 1988. Tezuka, Yoshiharu. Japanese Cinema Goes Global: Filmworkers’ Journeys Hong Kong University Press, 2012 Walsh, Mike, “The Aesthetics of Shadow Lighting” Screening the Past http://www.screeningthepast.com/issue-38-reviews/the-aesthetics-of-shadow-lighting-and-japanese-cinema/ “Kabuki theatre” UNESCO https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/kabuki-theatre-00163#:~:text=Kabuki%20is%20a%20Japanese%20traditional,was%20particularly%20popular%20among%20townspeople . “Onryo” Yokai https://yokai.com/onryou/ “Nenbutsu” Encyclopedia https://www.encyclopedia.com/religion/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/nenbutsu-chinese-nianfo-korean-yombul The-Noh https://www.the-noh.com/ Masuyama, Hiroko, Onryo: Japanese Grudge Spirit and Ghost Stories, 2017 https://www.patternz.jp/onryo-japanese-vengeful-spirits/#michizane
- And Your Point Is?: Remembering Lella Lombardi
In the last five years, the international profile of European motorsports, particularly Formula One, has skyrocketed. However, with its rising popularity follows a growing critique. Where are the women in Formula One? Other racing series like NASCAR and IndyCar can boast numerous women racers, but F1 remains dominated by a grid of twenty men. The series has tried to respond, highlighting women like Bernie Collins – former Red Bull Racing Strategy Engineer and current analyst for Sky Sports. Indeed, in 2023, Jessica Hawkins became the first female F1 test-driver in five years since Tatiana Calderon in 2018. 2023 is also the inaugural season of the all-women's F1 Academy, directed by Susie Wolff, who herself made history when she participated in a free practice session for Williams Racing. The Academy started racing this year with an all-female grid of drivers supported by the 10 major F1 teams. It is a huge step in the development of women’s motor sports, and it could lead to a woman re-joining the grid for the first time since 1992 when Giovanna Amati tried and failed to qualify for three races in a row. Yet many new fans have no idea that women ever raced in Formula One at all. History has forgotten the women who blazed new paths in motorsports. This article remembers one of those women, Lella Lombardi who in 1975 became the first and only woman to ever score points in a Formula One Grand Prix. Lella’s story has always stood out to me. Maybe it’s because she was, in today’s terms, queer, supported throughout her career by her partner, Fiorenza. Maybe it’s because the era she raced in was so incredibly dangerous, with drivers literally risking their lives every race for the thrill of speed. Maybe it’s because scoring points is such an incredible accomplishment in F1, and Lella did it in the second race she qualified for! There are men who have raced for years without ever reaching this achievement which used to come from placing within the top six of a race. There are undoubtedly other stories to tell – that of Maria Teresea De Fillippis, the first woman to drive in F1 in 1958, and Desiré Wilson, the first woman to win a Formula One event in the British Aurora Series in 1980. All of these women faced the same question Lella did: what is your point? Even after De Fillippis’s trailblazing races, the world of motorsports was sure a woman could not find any real success in racing, so why even try? What was the purpose of pouring money into women pilots? Lella answered - her point was to prove that women could not only enter the world of motorsports, but succeed. Lella’s name deserves to be remembered for consistently flouting social scripts to achieve something no woman has since. Chasing a Dream Lella Lombardi’s unique career in Formula One starts with her upbringing. F1 has never been a cheap sport, it requires either immense personal wealth or sponsorships to build a career. As such, most drivers have historically come from privileged backgrounds, but Lella did not have this advantage. Lella was born Maria Grazia Lombardi on March 14th, 1941. Her parents were butchers from the village of Frugarolo, Italy, and she spent much of her childhood working at her family’s shop. The Lombardi family did not own a family car and neither of Lella’s parents drove in her youth. It was only when Lella was injured in a handball game as a young teenager that she first rode in a car when her coach took her to the local hospital. She became enraptured by driving and after this saved money to pay for lessons and practiced in any vehicle she could. She even convinced her parents to let her drive the business delivery van! Eventually with the help of her older brother, Lella bought a car of her own and immediately started looking for racing opportunities. But being a woman trying to break into the boys’ club of motorsport was no easy feat. Lella would have to rely on her male connections to support her early career. Early on, Lella was introduced to a rally car pilot who she impressed with her sheer determination to race. He took Lella onto his team, assigning her menial tasks like timing laps and changing tires. But Lella could not be dissuaded, eventually convincing him to let her become his navigator and then his co-pilot before finally piloting a race herself. Having worked her way up the ranks, Lella found quick success in rally racing, and soon she was setting her sights on single seaters. Single seaters are a different type of car, lower to the ground, exposed, and much more rigid, in turn requiring a different style of racing. There is no one there with the pilot, just the driver and the hunk of metal under them careening around corners, knowing that if they misjudge by a centimeter, it could mean not only the end of their race, but their lives. It was and remains today, for many, the pinnacle of motorsport. Lella knew the increased risk of single seaters, just like she would have known that finding success in these series would be even more of a challenge than getting her start in rally racing. One of the reasons Lella felt energized to enter the world of single seaters was she had the support of her partner, Fiorenza. While little is publicly known about the foundation of the women’s relationship, Fiorenza was clearly very supportive of her partner’s career. Indeed, Fiorenza’s emotional and financial support was integral to Lella’s start in single-seaters, helping her to enter the Formula 875-Monza series in 1968. This was one of the many junior Formula series Lella would work her way through. In 1970, Lella entered and came in third in the Italian Formula Ford Championship while simultaneously competing in the smaller Trofeo Italiano Formula 850 series. The next year, Lella entered Formula Three, competing across three seasons in various cars. The victory that propelled Lella to dedicate herself to Formula One success, however, came in 1973 when she raced in and won the first ever Italian Ford Escort Mexico Challenge. This was a celebrity racing series, and it brought Lella to the attention of many big names in the racing world. Lella had once again proven herself worthy to the right people. Proving a Point In 1974, Lella’s single seater career took off. She tested a Formula One car for Jackie Epstein, a man who ran several successful racing teams, and impressed him enough to gain a place on Fransisco Mir’s US F5000 team. Her teammate in this series was future 1976 F1 champion James Hunt, remembered today for his fierce rivalry with Niki Lauda. Race after race, Lella consistently matched the future star. After months of stellar results, Lella made the jump into Formula One for the first time. Driving a car loaned from Bernie Eccelstone, owner of the Brabham racing team, Lella entered the British GP at Brands Hatch in July driving for Hexagon of Highgate. Unsurprisingly, Eccelstone had little interest in lending his opponents a competitive car, and Lella struggled to match the rest of the field’s pace with her engine’s minimal power. In the end, it was a driveshaft malfunction that dashed her dreams of qualifying. She missed out on a racing position by just .9 seconds. Lella was not given another opportunity in F1 that year. However, she would finish fifth in the 1974 US F5000 series. Lella was persistent, continuing to make inroads in the racing world. Her enthusiasm for the sport was clear, and she had slowly gained the respect of many on the grid. Interviews from her time as a F1 driver give insight into why so many loved Lella Lombardi on and off track. When asked by a Swedish journalist if she was “ just a nice doll in this sport?” she responded by saying, “No, No, for sure not me. You could judge me like this, but I really care to be seen as a pilot and not as a doll.” Lella simply refused to take any flack about her gender, reminding everyone that she was on track as a racing driver who happened to be a woman, not the other way around. Her confidence and results impressed many, and, in the winter of 1974, she charmed one of the biggest bankrollers in the racing world with her skills, knowledge, and determination. Count Vittorio Zanon was known for financially supporting the careers of many successful drivers including Ronnie Peterson and Michele Albereto. Businessmen like Zanon were essential for drivers like Lella who did not come from independent means. If you could not secure stable sponsorship, your career could not be sustained. Lella knew this, yet, in the end it was a woman who was central to securing Lella a permanent seat in F1. Jean Mosely, the wife of March’s owner Max Mosely, had been pestering her husband for months to consider Lella, after Lella impressed her with her Brands Hatch drive. After watching Lella race and meeting the driver in person, Mosley folded. By the start of the 1975 season, Lella was signed to the March Formula One team. In South Africa at the third race of the 1975 season Lella finally qualified for her first Formula One race, becoming the second woman after De Fillippis to do so. The competition Lella faced on track was fierce. Ferrari’s rising star Niki Lauda would go on to win his first of three world championships that year after overcoming the challenge of 1974 world champion Emerson Fittipaldi. Lella’s former teammate James Hunt had also joined the F1 grid. But unlike Lauda and Fittipaldi who were part of large and well-funded racing teams, the March F1 team had been facing financial difficulties since the early 1970s. As a result, the team could not afford to produce new F1 cars, so they started racing modified Formula Two cars. Lella’s car could not match the power or reliability of Lauda’s Ferrari or Fittipaldi’s McLaren. This disadvantage was clear in South Africa when Lella suffered a fuel system break, forcing her to retire in the twenty-third lap of the race. Similarly, her teammate, Vittorio Brambilla, retired in the sixteenth lap due to overheating. But Lella wasn’t done making history, quickly turning her sights to the next race weekend where she did what no woman had done before or has done since. The weekend of the 1975 Spanish Grand Prix started well. Lella was bringing a brand-new car to the track, a March 751–Ford she obtained with funds from Zanon’s Lavazza sponsorship. Though she qualified, starting 24th at the back of the grid certainly wasn’t what she was hoping for in her new outfit. What’s more, during qualifying the drivers noticed guardrails around the circuit were broken, and after qualifying, they agreed in a joint press conference that they would not race unless this was fixed. Engineers and mechanics from across the grid pitched into the effort which finished just before the race’s start. But not all the rails were properly checked before the race got underway. Nonetheless, Lella lined up on the grid at Montjuïc Park on the 21st of April 1975 ready to race. From the start, there was chaos on track. Four drivers retired after an opening lap accident caused by Lella’s teammate Brambillo. Mechanical failures and accidents continued to occur throughout the race and by the 25th lap only 8 of the starting 25 drivers remained on track. Lella drove incredibly well in what was one of the toughest races of the season, managing to avoid the fallout from each accident as she made her way up the grid. What happened next is the reason most people remember the 1975 Spanish Grand Prix. In the 26th lap of the race, Rolf Stommelen’s rear wing detached from his chassis. The car ricocheted off a barrier, leaving it in the middle of the track just as Carlos Pace rounded the corner. Pace hit Stommelen’s car with enough force to launch it over the guardrail on the other side of the track and into a crowd of spectators. Meanwhile, the race coordinators were in chaos, failing to stop the cars for another five laps while they tried to get a handle on the situation. In the end, four spectators were left dead and Stommelen suffered serious injuries. It still stands as a stark reminder of the dangers of motor racing. While the attention paid to such a tragedy is undoubtedly justified, what has unfortunately been lost in the story of that fateful day is what Lella Lombardi achieved. When the race directors finally ended the Grand Prix, Lella had secured sixth place. She became the only woman to score points in a Formula One event. Because the race ended before full race distance but with over 2/3rds of the event completed, half points were awarded. While the disastrous race end created significant controversy over the race results, Lella still walked away with half a point in the driver’s championship. Lella completed the rest of the 1975 season with March. Though she did not manage to score points again, she came exceedingly close, finishing 7th at the Nürburgring track in Germany. This result was perhaps even more impressive than her race in Spain, as she picked up a puncture early in the race. Lella fought her car lap after lap just to stay on track, and she still managed to almost score points again! Towards the end of the season, Lella was growing increasingly frustrated with the March team. She was consistently complaining about the car’s handling, struggling with understeer that made navigating high-speed corners difficult. Max Mosely later admitted to ignoring Lella’s concerns despite knowing the car was difficult to drive, having little interest in advancing her career. Finally, after consistently struggling to find adequate race pace, the team stripped back Lella’s March to find that one of the rear bulkheads had cracked earlier in the season. Lella could have easily walked away from the series. She had been consistently mistreated by her teams, and she had other racing opportunities in sportscar series. Her teammate at Le Mans, Marie-Claude Beaumont, remembers Lella telling her in 1975 that “Formula 1 was very important for her and her friend Fiorenza. She would just say to me, ‘Marie, I have to do Formula 1.’” Lella had no interest in leaving after fighting so hard for her dream, and with the support of her partner, she felt she had more to give. So, at the start of 1976, Lella decided to abandon the March team. Lella moved to Williams Racing in 1976 which looked like a promising decision on paper. While Williams was still a relatively small team, they had recently signed a lucrative new funding partner, which though short-lived, would make them much talked about going into the season. But she found little luck in 1976. On her debut Williams drive at the United States Grand Prix, she faced ignition problems that forced her to drop out of the race before the start. Ever determined, Lella tried to race her teammate, Jacques Latiffe’s Williams, as Latiffe also dropped out of the race with an eye infection. However, Latiffe was much shorter than Lella who was too tall to fit into his cockpit. Lella then failed to qualify in the next two races, and after the Brazilian Grand Prix, the team dropped her for Ronnie Peterson, a man with multiple grand prix victories. Desperate not to lose the opportunity she worked so hard for, Lella tried one last time to race in F1 for team RAM. Her car, however, was a year older than the rest of the fields, and she would only qualify for one grand prix that year where she finished far off the pace in 12th. By the end of 1976, Lella was exhausted after scraping and clawing for over three years just to drive some of the worst cars on the grid. At the end of 1976, she exited the series to look for opportunities elsewhere. Remembering Lella The end of Lella’s F1 career was far from the end of her racing career, as she moved into sportscar racing. Indeed, outside the world of Formula One, Lella found herself interacting with more and more female racing drivers. She raced in Le Mans with teammate Marie-Claude Beaumont, though a fuel issue forced them to retire in the race’s eighth hour. She made a singular NASCAR appearance, driving alongside Christine Becker and Janet Guthrie in the 1977 Daytona Firecracker 400. Lella would team up with Becker again at the 24 Hours of Daytona that same year, but the team would crash out in the 78th lap. They would finish Le Mans that year together in 11th, an impressive feat considering an electrical problem delayed their start. It would be Lella’s best result in any of the 24 hours races she competed in. Lella would continue to alternate between racing sports cars and touring cars for the next ten years, securing several impressive results. She won the 6 Hours of Mugello with teammate Giorgio Francia and pickied up multiple podium finishes. In the late 1980s, Lella started to struggle with her health and found herself unable to race. Lella was eventually diagnosed with breast cancer. Still, she would not walk away from motorsport, starting “Lella Lombardi Motorsport”, a touring-car team. Her niece remembers that Lella was incredibly happy during this time, thrilled to have a team of her own despite her worsening illness. She lived long enough to see them test their first touring car, a Ford Sierra RS 500 Cosworth. She passed away just after her 50th birthday on the 3rd of March 1992 in Milan, Italy. Lella Lombardi left behind a legacy that is hard to comprehend. Beyond her incredible racing achievements, she opened the doors for even more women in motorsport. What’s more, throughout her career she lived unabashedly as herself, shattering gendered stereotypes along the way. She kept her hair short and always travelled with her partner Fiorenza, living quite openly as a lesbian despite never publicly pronouncing her sexuality. When asked in a 1975 interview why she chose motorsport despite being a girl, Lella replied simply “Because I love it! I love motoring, I love racing cars. I love the feeling of driving.” Lella did not let anything stand in the way of that love. She fought tooth and nail for every opportunity, every start, every seat at the table. She knew she was not welcome, yet her skill and determination slowly impressed driver after driver, businessman after businessman, until she earned the racing community’s respect. She should be remembered for her spirit, her fortitude, and her love for the sport she dedicated her life to. Lella had a point to prove: to show everyone women could find success in F1, and she did so spectacularly. Her legacy lives on in the women today who continue to fight for their chance to add their name next to Lella’s in the history of motorsport. Further Reading 2023. "1975 F1 World Championship." MotorSport Magazine. Accessed 10 10, 2023. https://www.motorsportmagazine.com/database/championships/1975-f1-world-championship/. Dietrich, Nanni. n.d. "Lella Lombardi: 1941-1992." Motorsport Memorial. Accessed 10 10, 2023. http://www.motorsportmemorial.org/LWFWIW/focusLWFWIW.php?db=LWF&db2=ms&n=273. 2020. Beyond Driven. Directed by Riyaana Hartley and Vincent Tran. Performed by Giovanni Amati, et al. Jenkins, Aimée. 2023. "The Legacy of lella Lombardi." Along the Racing Line. 06 01. Accessed 10 10, 2023. https://www.alongtheracingline.com/the-legacy-of-lella-lombardi/. n.d. "March." ESPN. Accessed 10 10, 2023. http://en.espn.co.uk/march/motorsport/team/375.html#Profile. Resteck, Hilary, and Casey Schuster. n.d. "Lella Lombardi." The Henry Ford Women in the Winner Circle Foundation. Accessed 10 10, 2023. https://ophelia.sdsu.edu:8443/henryford_org/09-09-2013/exhibits/racing/wiwc/bios/trailblazers/LellaLombardi.pdf. Tremayne, David. 2022. "Trailblazing Racer Lella Lombardi Remembered, 30 Years On From Her Death ." Formula1. March 03. Accessed 10 10, 2023. https://www.formula1.com/en/latest/article.trailblazing-racer-lella-lombardi-remembered-30-years-on-from-her-death.6zz9pupcxc97yy5SEL1kkR.html. 2023. "Williams." MotorSport Magazine. Accessed 10 10, 2023. https://www.motorsportmagazine.com/database/teams/williams/.
- “Red hair is my lifelong sorrow”: Reflections on the literary and historical trope of redheads
The mystique of the redhead is well documented throughout the ages , dating back to biblical times. The queen of Hell, Lilith, was thought to be a redhead, and the mythological women of Greek stories like Cassandra and Persephone have been depicted with this hair colour, indicating a pattern across centuries of troubled or troubling women sharing a common feature of red hair. Hair gives women agency, but only insofar as it is linked to appearance, whether judged as beautiful or ugly according to beauty standards throughout history. It is associated with the cisgendered female Other, and this strength and beauty has much to be admired but also feared. Red hair can be traced through beauty trends made visible by literature, historical records, and art. Cleopatra was presumed to have reddened her hair using henna, a cosmetic tool favoured by the Ancient Egyptians, whereas in Japanese culture an 1896 article suggested that red hair brought bad luck, and that ‘he or she must not wash her hair on the day of horse when hair would turn red, an evil turn of events (Volker 1975, 7). Examples of famous women such as Boudica, Elizabeth I, and Moira Shearer indicate no lack of redheaded women in popular history, but their shared feature of red hair is often felt to be a problem (Figure One). Its sheer rarity, with less than 2% of the global population considered as natural redheads may justify such claims of uniqueness and fascination, but the deep-rooted and dangerous appeal of red in all its literary and historical forms implies an otherness which is historically feared in masculine perspectives of history. The problematic of red hair is its colour, and this perceived abnormality has been weaponised into a vilification of women. It is difficult to define the archetype of the redhead in history as inherently positive or negative, as famous figures like Elizabeth I created a fashion of having red hair, whilst Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables perceives her red hair as ugly and is bullied for having ‘carrots’ for hair. The devilish allusions to fire and sin seem too straightforward in answer to the often -unfair stereotyping of scarlet haired women throughout history, but the fact of natural red hair as a rare quality fosters this nature of suspicion across the real and fiction women I am discussing (Montgomery 154). The colour red, ginger, or strawberry blond does ‘stand out’ in its vibrancy, and where women have historically been taught modesty, the dangerous power of hair was thought to beguile and disturb male onlookers. My study reflects on iconic women across literature, art and mythology, who can be grouped together as outsiders or unique characters partially due to their red hair and the patriarchal fears that are intrinsically linked with being a redhead. Religious lore provides one source for the fear of red hair, as records from the European witch trials spanning from the 15th to 18th century reveal that it was widely believed that simply having red hair could invoke the devil. Wendy Cooper’s Social History of Hair identifies the duplicitous Judas as one origin of this idea, as the religious damnation of this man as disloyal and untrustworthy is tied to his red hair (Cooper 1971, p.75). The power of religious symbols is connected to persecution of redheads, and in relation to the Spanish inquisition, the immoral allusions of red hair and fear of heresy came hand in hand (Cooper). In A Vindication of the Redhead , Brenda Ayres affirms that ‘The association of red hair with Satan, devils, monsters, murderers, villains, seductive women, Jews, and other personages of presumed infamy continues to be propagated through literature and other media today’ (21 ). Red hair, then, is doubly embedded in the cultural myths of hair and western beauty standards as well as religious ideas of sin and seduction, especially due to the primal colour associated with temper, desire, and violence. Ayres equally discusses the biblical idea of sexual temptation associated with hair, and how historically women have been punished for their perceived sexuality by having their hair cut off. The Grimm Brothers’ Rapunzel and Fantine from Les Misérables are two important cultural examples, when their hair is forcefully cut, they both lose power and become disposable (Figure Two). Joan of Arc is a counterpoint to these women; although suffering an equally tragic fate, the martyr chose to cut her hair as a form of disguise. All of these cultural references exemplify the equivocal truth that long hair can be a mark of beauty but also objectification. Long flowing hair presents a threat to male power due to its distracting ‘allure’, and feminist history emphasises the important context behind the mythologization of hair. It can be used as a way to vilify women, as a tradeable product of femininity that someone like Fantine uses very literally to make money. Barbara G Walker notes the popular myth of ‘prophetic priestesses or witches, who operated with unbound hair on the theory that their tresses could control the spirit world’ (Walker 1996, p.368). Hair, in magical terms, was a source of power, so adding the dimension of red hair increased the strength of these women. There is a sense of both monetary value but also emasculation at play with red hair, so the mythology of red headed women as imbued with supernatural power is a means to explain the oxymoron of patriarchal beauty ideals and sinfulness that they embody. We can thus see a trend emerging from the fear of dissent surrounding red hair that then transposes to a visual figuration of red hair as ever seductive yet valuable. Thus, if hair studies reveal a gendered perception of red hair, how can we account for the diverse depictions of women thought to have or often visualised with ginger hair? It can be attributed to changes in beauty standards, as the trend in depictions of ‘devilish’ female characters in religious cultures such as Eve and Lilith was replaced by an adoration of redheaded women in the Pre-Raphaelite muses Fanny Cornforth and Elizabeth Siddal and the mythological women they incarnated. Feared and revered , the unanimous agreement is that red hair attracts attention, why is why I have chosen to look at key examples of the male gaze at work in shaping perceptions of redhaired women and how these can be reconstructed. Historically, naturally occurring red hair has been found primarily in European countries, so the majority of artwork and accounts of red hair are associated with white Western women. This is not to say that red hair does not exist in all parts of the world, and indeed it is thought that Cleopatra may have had red hair. Negative criticism of red hair has been associated with antisemitism, and the very fact that it is a ‘minority attribute’ indicates historic fear and alienation in pictorial depictions of Jewish people (Mellinkoff 202). Vindictive histories of russet haired women focus on the colour itself as a rarity and a warning symbol, with the most common being devilish associations. The great Iceni queen Boudica is exemplary of often prejudiced accounts of powerful redheaded women, and her physical appearance plays a deciding factor in male historian’s accounts (Figure Three). She was described by the monk Gildas in the sixth century as 'the treacherous lioness' and her followers 'crafty foxes,' when both animals are known for their red hair (Gildas 540, 21, in Gibson 92). Ancient Roman historian Cassius Dio elaborates that ‘in stature she was very tall, in appearance most terrifying, in the glance of her eye most fierce, and her voice was harsh; a great mass of the tawniest hair fell to her hips’. Her ‘tawny’ hair was thought to be red, and here her physically dominating appearance is measured by fear and awe. Whilst this pattern of redheads may be a coincidence, their history of literary and visual representations reflects beauty standards of idealism and male anxiety, as Dio’s account is yet another shaped by the male gaze. Red hair, from the earliest Greek myths and biblical tales, seek to emphasise a woman’s otherness or demonic qualities, whereby a powerful or powerless woman could be vilified by the fact of having distinctive red hair. Early religious accounts associate red, and thus redheads, with Satan, and the Babylonian Talmud (a central text of study in Judaism) describes Lilith, the first wife of Adam, as a redhead (Ayres 28). The biblical image of Lilith as a demonic woman who disobeyed traditional ideas of motherhood and female sexuality indicates that her unruliness is equitable with her hair colour. The figuration of both Lilith and Judas as having fiery hair must then symbolise their dissidence and infallible branding as sinful in certain religious interpretations. In the Babylonian Talmud (c.500), Lilith is scarcely mentioned but is described with long hair and is thought to have been banished from the garden of Eden for not following Adam’s rule and then becoming the Mother of Hell (British Library). The 'Lady Lilith' painting by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1867) is perhaps the most famous incarnation of Lilith, and her distinctive long red hair adds to her femme fatale characterisation (Figure Four). Rosetti’s choice to use his mistress Fanny Cornforth as the model is telling of the seductive power that is often emphasised by redheaded characters. The demonic idea of Lilith is translated into a more formal tradition in the Pre-Raphaelite movement, where Lilith is shown in an intimate setting, importantly combing her hair. Other details include a red bracelet and a poppy, which can symbolise death, drawing the viewer’s attention to red as a key motif in this painting. For Rossetti, and indeed Victorian viewers, it is unclear whether red hair can be judged as a beauty ideal, as Roach notes that this hair colour has ‘struck every emotion in our hearts, from vehement terror to unthrottled lust, since the hue first appeared in humankind’ (Roach 3). Lilith is a prime example of how literature dictated by men can influence cultural myths of red hair, which goes on to include Princess Salome and Greek myths such as Cassandra and Persephone, who are also figured with red hair (Figures Five and Six). Cassandra (left) and Persephone (right) suffered alienation and tragedy all whilst having red hair in artistic depictions, and the flaming locks of Cassandra echo the ruined city behind her. Their fates are not comparable to their hair colour, of course, but there is a shared sense of foreboding in the artists’ choice to depict these tragic heroines with red hair. Botticelli’s iconic ‘The Birth of Venus’ painting also leans into the femme fatale trope of Greek mythology, as the love goddess Venus’s long wavy tresses emphasise her ideal femininity, and a noticeable tawny strawberry blonde colour (Figure Seven). It seems then that the common stereotyping of redheads as fiery and passionate are found in these Greek goddesses, who have been viewed in artistic renderings as passionate yet idealised redheads. It is difficult to define the archetype of the redhead in history as inherently positive or negative, as famous figures like Elizabeth I created a fashion of having red hair, whilst Anne perceives her red hair as ugly and is bullied for having ‘carrots’ for hair. The devilish allusions to fire and sin seem too straightforward in answer to the often -unfair stereotyping of scarlet haired women throughout history , but the fact of natural red hair as a rare quality fosters this nature of suspicion across the real and fiction women I am discussing (Montgomery 154). The colour red, ginger, or strawberry blond does ‘stand out’ in its vibrancy, and where women have historically been taught modesty, the dangerous power of hair was thought to beguile and disturb male onlookers. My study reflects on iconic women across literature, art and mythology, who can be grouped together as outsiders or unique characters partially due to their red hair and the patriarchal fears that are intrinsically linked with being a redhead. Continuing in history, a distinctive shift in the correlation between redheads and beauty standards is visible in Queen Elizabeth I. Her portraiture created a cult of royal authority and established her strength and regal power as a queen, making her red hair famous. As an influencer of national fashions and beauty, many women aspired to Queen Elizabeth’s look, including her red hair. Her most vibrant ‘Rainbow Portrait’ shows her late in her reign but still figured as an eternal young woman, her hair perfectly curled and bejewelled (Figure Eight). She controlled the circulation of her image, and so this portrait is indicative of her desire to publicly maintain her features to show the constancy of her power. Elizabeth I’s patronage of artists created a cult of imagery around the queen which maintained her regal status of the Virgin Queen, and her distinctive red hair remained a key feature of her portraiture. Her red hair remained the same hue and thickness throughout her life, causing one to question the truthfulness of the artist’s brush. What is clear is that the image of the young, omnipotent queen was paramount and the power of beauty standards reigned over the Queen herself to maintain the Gloriana image. During that time, Ayres notes that ‘Titian was famous for painting redheads. In fact, the hair color—a “golden red-brown”—had become so popular in Venice that women dyed their hair that color.’ (Roach 68, in Ayres 11). The term ‘Titian red’ has become widespread due to his common use of the colour, which was distinctive to his style, and suggests an increase in appreciation for redheads, certainly aided by its visibility in portraiture and presentation as both beautiful and powerful in the case of Queen Elizabeth I. These visual signifiers of auburn hair as ethereal and the highest pinnacle of beauty denote an appreciation that is interlinked with concepts of female power and royalty. The regal power of Elizabeth I exponentially increased the popularity of red hair and may have elevated it from negative cultural prejudices. Titian’s fixation on red hair and his own shade of red indicates this widespread visual culture of redheads which confronted women of the epoque, casting beauty and a regal aura on the female models (Figure Nine). The popularity of trends and the rise and fall of perceived beauty of redheads can then be traced in literary depictions, but a common feature is that often these women are powerful, mystically so, and their beauty is often replaced by patriarchal fear, or in Queen Elizabeth I’s case, a cult of power. Paintings of redheads put Western beauty on a pedestal and share myths of red hair across fictional and historical women that they depict. Elizabeth I created a popular image of herself which brought her flaming locks into prominence, associating her hair with both her femininity and strength, perhaps trading into the fiery stereotype as her forte as a speech maker and long ruling monarch relied on public support. When imagining paintings of redheads, the Pre-Raphaelites are central to visual culture, as the Brotherhood (and Sisterhood), founded in 1848, is recognizable in art movements for the prominence of red-haired female subjects in various classical and Victorian settings. The redheaded model is common among their depictions of so called dangerous and tragic women such as Ophelia and the Lady of Shalott, who are often to be feared and safely contained in the canvas of a painting. Elizabeth Siddal is a key example of how red hair situated women as the muse and model for the male artist rather than artists in their own right. Often figured as dangerous and beautiful women, Siddal’s’ history is often rendered synonymous with her sitting as Ophelia in the infamous 1851-2 painting by John Everett Millais (Figure Ten). Her tragically short life mirrors the heroine Ophelia, but this is an injustice to her own writing and artwork she produced . Perhaps the memory of Siddal as a muse known for the visual marker of her long red hair emphasises the beauty standards of the Pre-Raphaelites and suggests auburn hair is in fact an ideal, albeit a tragic one. The male gaze is inextricable within the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, so their contribution to Victorian beauty standards in painting such as ‘The Beloved’, ‘Lilith’ and ‘Lucrezia Borgia’. Their artwork combines myths of redheads with male desire and female power. They perpetuated the stereotype of red hair as beautiful but also laced with scandal, the sitters themselves were often depicted as adulterous, magical or tragic women but were artists themselves in their own right. Their red hair harks back to the religious ideas of sinfulness, where stories of powerful and mythical women were often reinvented with red hair. The male artist, whether it is Rossetti or Titian, had great sway over cultural perceptions of female beauty, and their choice of redheaded female subject is thus telling of a male gaze which has ownership over the vivid red-haired model. Siddal is still remembered primarily as a muse, and the memorialisation of her face and hair in Rossetti’s art displays the gender powerplay at work in constraining the female model within a patriarchal canvas. Red hair, as a visual signifier of beauty or ‘abnormality’, has also been well documented in literature. Traits that we have encountered in the historical redheaded women lend themselves to fiction too, where the most outspoken female characters are often redheads . Some are alienated, such as the plucky orphan Anne of Green Gables who dislikes her red hair so intensely that it is a ‘lifelong sorrow’ (Figure Eleven). She believes in the popular myth that ginger hair is a curse and wishes for it to be raven black instead. This informs us more about beauty standards of the time, so her fixation on her hair is not a vanity but rather ostracization of a young girl in 1880s society. L.M. Montgomery’s novel reflects a misogynistic attitude towards hair colour which can be compared to other similar historical depictions of redheaded women. The character of Anne is made to feel worthless, and her distinctive hair is a visual sign for her that she does not belong. She tells Marilla that ‘red-headed people can’t wear pink, not even in imagination’ (Montgomery 52). Rejected from society as an orphan, her red hair seems to escalate the sense that beauty and belonging is out of reach. She internalises beauty standards that deem her red hair ‘ugly’, which derives from bullying and unfair treatment, and can only become empowering as she grows up and accepts herself (101). Anne’s temper and boldness is fitting with the fiery stereotype, although it is arguable that her outsider status and thirst for justice is the real reasoning behind her personality. Other orphans like Annie and Pippi Longstockings share the same outspoken characteristics, and all triumph in their resilience in the face of alienation. Pippi in particular is an unconventional little girl, she lives alone and has an unexpected superpower of incredible strength. Here, her so called ‘oddity’ is a superpower, as is her red hair: she may stand out but is celebrated for this and overcomes adversity. In fiction, hair holds a history of oppression and power in equal parts, which plucky Anne and powerful Pippi exemplify. If we take Rapunzel as an example, her hair has magical qualities which then aid her escape from evil forces which would keep her and her rebelliously long hair hidden . Connie Koppelman notes that ‘because hair continually replenishes itself, it has been imbued with magical, symbolic power and defined by myth and tradition’, adding to the concept that hair is a powerful symbol of something uncontrollable (87). There is certainly then a myth around hair and superstition which form a part of literary tradition. Elsewhere, Sylvia Plath’ s ‘Lady Lazarus’ dramatically announces that ‘Out of the ash/ I rise with my red hair/ And I eat men like air’ . The reclamation of biblical ideas of sin and hell are reworked in the image of resurrection and female power, the female Lazarus is invincible and vengeful. Here, her ‘red hair’ is part of Plath’s feminist message of reinvention and dangerous natural power, and ideas of fieriness and fire are linked directly to her red hair. Plath plays on religious ideals of good and evil by subverting the parable of Lazarus rising from the dead to present us with a violent feminine rebirth ‘out of ash’ where ‘red hair’ is a form of armour that Lady Lazarus can use to take on patriarchal forces. Red hair can be a cause for celebration and feminism as an act of reclamation, and even in current literature the eponymous Daisy Jones, the rebellious 70s musician , has ‘copper red hair that is thick and wavy and… takes up so much space’ (Reid 3). Jenkins Reid puts scarlet haired women as her heroines, and Daisy Jones and Celia St James, a Hollywood It Girl from The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo , both have charisma and inspire beauty and fear. They are vilified for it but also capitalise on their beauty and art. Emily Dickinson was confirmed to have had red hair, underlining this trend of red hair and uplifting, even riotous feminist role models in literature (Figure Twelve). She described her hair as ‘bold, like the Chestnut Bur’, linking Dickinson’s perception of her hair as a naturally imbued powerful feature with Plath’s later sentiment about fiery Lady Lazarus (Letter 268, Dickinson/Higginson Correspondence: July 1862). These female writers and their characters view red hair as part of their individualism, it is a reason for celebration, not sorrow like the young Anne. A shift in popular opinion in modern day society to celebrate difference which can include ‘fieriness’ as a woman has its origins in historical and fictional women, whose stories must be retold and rethought through the lens of beauty standards. By separating problematic beauty myths from the array of powerful and often misunderstood characters in literature, one can see the literary appreciation for redheads, particularly in feminist narratives, that works against historical prejudice. Is red hair then the age-old scarlet letter, particularly for women? Countless male artists would seem to say this in their paintings, and stereotypes of beauty throughout mythology, history and literature single out red-haired women as extraordinarily fiery and often dangerous. These female figures are often framed from the perspective of the male historian or artist, so bringing them all together suggests that freeing the redhead from archaic stereotypes is much more liberating, instead sharing a wealth of powerful and inspirational women who happen to also have red hair. Like Anne who grows to love her auburn locks as she grows up and discards harmful stereotypes, it is important to understand that these beauty standards are reflected in cultural productions like art and literature often prescribed by men. There is in fact no rarity of flame-haired women in stories to inspire a much more positive and complex understanding of the myth of the redhead, who has been misunderstood under misogynistic ideals and is instead a force to be reckoned with. Further Reading Primary Sources Montgomery, L. M. Anne of Green Gables . Penguin Random House, 2015. Dio. Roman History (LXII.1-2) Plath, Sylvia. ‘Lady Lazarus’, Ariel , 1965. Poetry Foundation , https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49000/lady-lazarus. Reid, Taylor Jenkins. Daisy Jones and the Six . Arrow Books, 2019. Dickinson, Emily. ‘Letter 268’, Dickinson/Higginson Correspondence: July 1862 . emilydickinson.org Secondary Sources Ayres, Brenda and Maier, Sarah E. A Vindication of the Redhead: The Typology of Red Hair Throughout the Literary and Visual Art. Palgrave Macmillan, 2021. Gibson, Rachael. ‘Why are artists infatuated with red hair?’, Art UK , 26th Apr. 2018. https://artuk.org/discover/stories/why-are-artists-infatuated-with-red-hair. Cooper, Wendy. Hair: Society, Sex and Symbolism . New York City: Stein and Day, 1971. Walker, Barbara. The Women’s Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets . Castle Books, 1996. Koppelman, Caroline. ‘The politics of hair’, Frontiers, vol. 17, no. 2, pp. 87-88, 1996. Mellinkoff, Ruth. Outcasts: Signs of Otherness in Northern European Art of the Late Middle Ages . Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1993. British Library. ‘Babylonian Talmud.’ British Library website , https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/babylonian-talmund. Roach, Marion. The Roots of Desire: The Myth, the Meaning, and Sexual Power or Red Hair . New York: Bloomsbury, 2005. Gildas. De Excidio Britanniae: The Ruin of Britain . vol. 1. Translated and edited by Hugh Williams. London: David Nutt, 1899. https://books.google.com/books?id=FfsmAAAAMAAJ. Volker, T. The Animal in Far Eastern Art: And Especially in the Art of the Japanese Netsuke with References to Chinese Origins, Traditions, Legends, and Art . Ledien: Brill, 1975.
- Can I love rom-coms and still be a feminist?
It’s that time of the year where romance is in the air (or maybe it isn’t) and the perfect opportunity to watch a classic rom-com presents itself. Please excuse me as I indulge myself; romantic comedies happen to be my favourite film genre, so interesting to me that I wrote my undergraduate dissertation about 1990’s rom-coms. Did I do it as an excuse to rewatch some (not-so-guilty) guilty pleasures? Yes. But did I also want to examine the representations of women, sexuality and feminist discourse in these surprisingly complex films? Absolutely. We all know the well-versed story of girl meets boy, they fall in love, face adversity, overcome said adversity, and live happily ever after. The end. The romantic comedy is “a genre that has continually been vilified for its poor artistic quality”, and the fact that, even today, it is regarded with contempt signals the low cultural value society places upon women’s interests. So the various mechanisms and ideologies that are in place within the rom-com, influencing perceptions of womanhood and romance, are not always highlighted within mainstream discourse of these films. On the face of it, most of them depict women falling hopelessly in love, sacrificing themselves or their dreams in the pursuit of a husband, which doesn’t seem very 'feminist'. At a time where pop culture was promoting Girl Power, romantic comedies were proposing a more nostalgic, traditional and hegemonic version of womanhood. Film scholars Steve Neale and Tamar Jeffers McDonald, building on Neale’s work, have coined this period of rom-coms as ‘new romances’ or ‘neo-traditional romances’, noting conventions of conservatism in the films of this time. I also suggest that there is a distinction to be made between the ‘rom-com’ and the ‘chick-flick’; the latter is associated with “a return to femininity, the primacy of romantic attachments, girlpower, a focus on female pleasure and […] the value of consumer culture and girlie goods[…]”, while the new romance is focused entirely on securing the most traditional and modest ending for its characters. Notably, the rise of ‘postfeminism’ emerged around this time. Purporting to offer women choice over the way they lead their lives and citing the redundancy of feminism now that gender equality has supposedly been achieved, postfeminism often promotes conservative life choices for women, reinforcing gender expectations rather than dismantling them. In these new romances women are encouraged to hold a complex and contradictory position; pursuing success in both their professional and personal lives, which inevitably results in unequal roles in relationships and failure in not meeting society’s expectations. It is important to note that the romantic comedies of this time, and postfeminism more generally, favour white, heterosexual, middle-class women, therefore failing to recognise diversity and disparity within womens’ experiences which means that this version of womanhood is not accessible to all. If you couldn’t already tell, I’m not exactly the biggest believer in postfeminism’s promise that women can have it all. The neo-traditional rom-coms embody the postfeminist inclination for conservatism and conventional femininity; women are encouraged to seek out romance, yet be virtuous, to view marriage as the pinnacle of life, but not appear desperate, and above all strive for a life of domestic bliss. Women enjoy these films and identify with their characters, yet the female representations are not necessarily empowering nor aligned with contemporary feminist thought. But I, and millions of others, still love classic rom-coms like Sleepless In Seattle or Notting Hill , and they don’t necessarily empower women and their life choices. There must be something at work within these films for them to have experienced such prolonged popularity, but is it at the expense of feminist principles? Sex (or a lack of) in neo-traditional rom-coms The de-emphasis of sex is central in the romantic comedies from this period, presenting women who are less interested in having sexual, physically-fulfilling relationships than they are in forming an emotional connection with ‘the one’. The ‘neo-traditional’ woman possesses a certain innocence and conservatism as she desires romance, a husband and family just as much as, if not more than, individual success in life. In You’ve Got Mail , when asked about having ‘cyber-sex’ with her chatroom friend ‘NYC152’, Kathleen (Meg Ryan) primly responds, “it’s not like that”, insinuating that the concept is shocking, or simply too sexy to be something she engages with. Apart from Pretty Woman ’s Vivian (a sex worker), the new romance woman is a desexualised being. The neo-traditional woman’s sexuality (her hetero sexuality) is inherently foregrounded by the genre, which showcases the perceived stability and romantic supremacy of heterosexual relationships, but her body is never a site of sex appeal. Women are therefore rewarded with a relationship and success in return for enacting post-feminism’s conservative version of femininity. Casual dating is not relevant to these women, instead abstinence is framed as the responsible, ‘right’ decision before meeting ‘the one’. This sets an expectation for women to be selective in their choice of romantic or sexual partner if they want to be completely romantically fulfilled. Postfeminist ideals of ‘having it all’ are pertinent to every aspect of women’s lives, and these rom-coms aid in creating that precedent. Of course, an exception to this trope is rom-com icon Bridget Jones (Reneé Zellweger). She engages first in a lustful, thrilling love affair with her boss Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant) and later a passionate, albeit tumultuous, relationship with Mark Darcy (Colin Firth). She enjoys her independence as a modern woman, free to enjoy sex and casual dating, but also acknowledges that she still lives under the patriarchy. In order to feel feminine and attractive she attempts to quit smoking and lose weight; she painfully waxes, shaves and plucks her body hair and dreads the prospect of becoming a spinster, despite being just thirty. While Bridget does represent a new kind of womanhood for the new millennium, she also represents the postfeminist hangover from the 1990s, believing that the conventions of traditional femininity will bring her lifelong happiness in the form of a man who loves her. Since the film’s release almost 25 years ago, it has been debated online and in academia alike whether Bridget Jones’s Diary is a piece of feminist work. I don’t think this film seeks to radically empower women and I don’t see Bridget as the ultimate feminist icon. But what she represents, a simultaneous awareness of the patriarchy yet conformity to its gender expectations, is something most women can relate to. For that reason, Bridget represents a very real and sympathetic version of womanhood and femininity which I believe makes her at the very least a female icon. She isn’t perfect, but neither is the woman watching her at home. New romance women in the workplace While women in new romances are depicted as professionally successful, as Diane Negra notes, these films “offset the threat of the urban ‘career woman’ by establishing her use of workplace resources as a means in the pursuit of romance”, constructing a retrograde image of modern working women. In Sleepless In Seattle Annie (Meg Ryan) uses her journalist resources to locate Sam (Tom Hanks) after hearing him on the radio, while Vivian accidentally finds love working as Edward’s prostitute in Pretty Woman . Bridget Jones has a flirty (pretty inappropriate) workplace relationship with her boss, which would certainly bring up some red flags and an email to HR in our current society. Kathleen’s first face-to-face meeting with Joe (Tom Hanks) in You’ve Got Mail is in her independent bookstore, ‘The Shop Around the Corner’. Throughout the film they shift from acquaintances, to rivals in the book-selling business, and eventually become lovers, connecting Kathleen’s career to the romantic plot. So while the women in neo-traditional rom-coms do not necessarily enter their professions seeking romance, the continuous use of this narrative reinforces the representation of women not taking their work seriously, encouraging their regression out of the workplace and into domestic roles. This rejection of the workplace in the pursuit of love directly challenges the matter of ‘having it all’ that I mentioned earlier. Under postfeminist thought, women are expected to balance a high-flying career, a fulfilling romantic relationship and maintenance of rigorous beauty standards. These romantic comedies profess to depict women embodying the harmonious achievement of all three of these categories by the end of the film with their happy endings. But what they actually portray is the struggle to attain this equilibrium; in many of these films the female protagonist is required to sacrifice an element of herself in order to reach the conservative postfeminist pinnacle of a heterosexual relationship. In Sleepless In Seattle , Annie is opposed to the idea of destiny at the beginning of the film, however once she hears Sam’s voice on the radio one night she suddenly believes that she belongs with this man she has never met. She embodies a simultaneous dichotomy of passive follower of fate and active believer in her own choices as the film sees Annie forgo her principles (dismissing destiny) and search to find the mysterious man to whom she is inexplicably drawn. This demonstrates how, under the guise of postfeminist ‘choice’, destiny presents women with “well-regulated liberty” rather than complete free will. In the neo-traditional rom-com, postfeminism is ideologically linked with the concept of destiny; what is framed as a magical alignment of soul mates in actuality justifies the reinstatement of women in a position of domesticity. Similarly, in You’ve Got Mail , Kathleen renounces her career, personal judgement and independence after Joe (her love interest) puts her out of business and conceals the truth about knowing her true identity on an over-thirties’ chatroom. Bridget Jones also feels compelled to leave her desirable publishing job because of her love interest. Although it is her decision to leave the publishing firm, the uncomfortable position Daniel puts her in (by having begun a relationship with someone he is in charge of’ and subsequently cheating on her) speaks to the choices modern women have to navigate, prioritising a relationship over a career, which confirms the difficulty of truly being able to have it all. She ultimately quits because of a man who makes her feel desperate and embarrassed. Crucially, in many of the romantic relationships portrayed in the neo-traditional rom-coms their foundations are built upon duplicity and power imbalance between man and woman. Joe knows Kathleen’s online identity, closes her bookstore, and still romantically pursues her, while Edward in Pretty Woman is aware of his growing feelings for Vivian and continues to engage in their relationship, despite its transactional nature. Vivian and Kathleen are not equal to Edward and Joe in terms of knowledge, power or economic standing during the foundational moments of their relationships, thus setting a precedent for the behaviours and power dynamic that women should expect from aspirational on-screen relationships. This simply reiterates postfeminism’s roots in conservative heterosexual identity. These films are able to construct romance from male agency and female passivity by depicting such relationships with ‘happily ever afters’ and the promise of a stable future in the form of blissful domesticity. Interestingly, Anna (Julia Roberts) in Notting Hill subverts this trend. She does not forfeit any part of herself or lifestyle, instead ending up with a more desirable way of life than she has at the beginning of the film. Through gaining a relationship with William (Hugh Grant), Anna is able to maintain an acting career, husband, children and fame, but only because he is the one to devote his life to her, rather than her to him. But it is clear that Anna is only able to achieve this position as the epitome of the postfeminist woman because of her social standing as a wealthy white woman. So while she represents something idealistic for the postfeminist rom-com, she is not necessarily an example of modern intersectional feminism. Feminists vs rom-coms? The neo-traditional romantic comedies can be held partially responsible for maintaining the perception of romance and women’s popular entertainment as trashy or outdated; by guiding their female characters into positions of passivity these films represent typical conservative postfeminism. Therefore the relevance of their representations of womanhood is considered limited to contemporary women. Despite this, real women do relate to the neo-traditional romantic comedies. Their depictions of postfeminist struggle (balancing feminism, traditional femininity, and individuality) are familiar to all women, demonstrating that these rom-coms are not totally incorrect in their representations. Enjoying neo-traditional rom-coms does not necessitate an absolute agreement with the types of romance, relationships and female representations that these films propose. Perhaps, the ‘feminist’ thing to do is to celebrate these films on the basis that their cultural value is overlooked and sneered at; the reclamation of women’s popular entertainment (made by and for women) can be empowering in its own right. In boxing things into binary, opposed categories of ‘feminist’ and ‘not feminist’ we are at risk of losing the nuance and contradictions of being not only women, but simply human. Just as these romantic comedies are not perfect or consistent in their ‘feminist’ stance, people are flawed and complicated. It would be wrong to say that the rom-coms of this era are models of perfectly enacted feminism (whatever that may be); but why must everything a woman enjoys be dissected and proved ‘worthy’? Why can’t I be a feminist while also enjoying something romantic, nostalgic and entertaining? The people who watch these films form their own interpretations of the representations of women, romance and society depicted on-screen from their own experiences. To quote Michele Schreiber, it is wrong “to pigeonhole these films and [...] ignore the many complex issues with which they engage, and to assume that women spectators cannot find a variety of pleasures in the same texts that they simultaneously understand to be limited in their representations of women’s choices.” This is where I stand with my enjoyment of rom-coms. Like Schreiber says, I trust my judgement and media literacy to recognise that the era in which some of my favourite films were made differs from the world I live in today. If anything, it is fascinating to study how certain attitudes and conversations around topics like body image, patriarchy and femininity have evolved over thirty years. I simply enjoy these films for the comfort and entertainment value that they offer, and many women love them for this reason. With iconic moments, brilliant acting partnerships (hello, Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts), and heartwarming stories, anyone can find something to enjoy about romantic comedies. So the verdict is: yes, you can love rom-coms and still be a feminist. But maybe I’m biased… Sources Ferriss, Suzanne and Mallory Young, Introduction: chick flicks and chick culture’ in Chick Flicks: Contemporary Women at the Movies , ed. by Suzanne Ferriss and Mallory Young (New York, Routledge, 2007), pp. 1-25 Guilluy, Alice, “Guilty Pleasures”- European Audiences and Contemporary Hollywood Romantic Comedy (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2021) McDonald, Tamar Jeffers, Romantic Comedy: Boy Meets Girl Meets Genre (London: Wallflower Press, 2007) McRobbie, Angela, ‘Postfeminism and and Popular Culture: Bridget Jones and The New Gender Regime’, in Interrogating Postfeminism: Gender and the Politics of Popular Culture , ed. by Yvonne Tasker and Diane Negra (North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2007), pp. 27-39 Neale, Steve, ‘The Big Romance or Something Wild?: Romantic Comedy Today’, Screen , vol. 33.3 (1992), 284-299 Negra, Diane, What A Girl Wants?: Fantasizing the Reclamation of Self in Postfeminism (Abingdon: Taylor & Francis Group, 2008) Schreiber, Michele, American Postfeminist Cinema: Women, Romance and Contemporary Culture (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014) Filmography Bridget Jones’s Diary , dir. by Sharon Maguire (Universal Pictures, 2001) Notting Hill , dir. by Roger Michell (Universal Pictures, 1999) Pretty Woman , dir. by Garry Marshall (Buena Vista Pictures Distribution, 1990) Sleepless In Seattle , dir. by Nora Ephron (TriStar Pictures, 1993) You’ve Got Mail , dir. by Nora Ephron (Warner Bros., 1998)
- The Pirate Queen of the South China Sea
Glossary: Junk → classic Chinese sailing vessel, complete with five masts and square sails. The plunderers of the seven seas are some of the most notorious criminals in history, with records of piracy dating back to Ancient Greece - The Odyssey itself portraying these tales. It is commonly accepted that the 'pirate population' was composed solely by men, with "No Women on Board '' believed to be a common saying amongst sailors in the past. The most well known explanation for this was the notion that women would bring bad luck to the sailors, variations included women seen as 'distractions' to the sailors as well as angering the Gods who could cause rough seas and weather. However, this has since been proved wrong. During the Golden Age of Piracy (17th and 18th centuries) there are several examples of women not only sailing but also commanding fleets. The area of piracy that is most commonly recognised in modern media is in the Caribbean, where the most prevalent years of piracy largely ended in the 1730s. In these years, two women are well known to have captained pirate ships, their names were Anne Bonny and Mary Read. However, the Golden Age of Piracy was not entirely over. In Chinese waters the 'reign of terror' of piracy persisted until the middle of the 19th century. Amongst the fearsome figures who ravaged the seas was a woman who, while not born or brought up as a pirate or even a sailor, , became the most feared person in China. This was Zheng Yi Sao (can also be found as Cheng I Sao). The woman who married into piracy and commandeered the largest fleet in the world. The literal translation of her pirate name is 'wife of Zheng Yi'. It is believed that her real name was Shi Yang, although it is impossible to say for certain as the primary sources all refer to her by her married name. This article will introduce you to the pirate and her importance to history as well as discuss the overall participation of women within piracy. Zheng Yi Sao lived during the Qing Dynasty. At this time, it was common to see women in roles in seafaring communities in coastal regions, especially if they were part of a seafaring family. Some would work driving small rafts, they would deliver necessary items to those who lived at sea as well as learn the 'domestic arts'. Throughout the Qing Dynasty, China faced many perils. Famine, wars and revolutions were some of the most well known problems. Alongside these, the large presence of piracy along the Chinese coast was a large problem for the government even before Zheng Yi Sao grew into her position as the Queen of piracy - a title granted by historians postmortem. Researchers know that Zheng Yi Sao married into piracy but some argue it was not out of choice. Certain Chinese tales from how she came into the business vary but they all agree that, before becoming the wife of Zheng Yi, she worked as a prostitute. It is believed that she was born around 1775 in Canton and married Zheng Yi - one of the most powerful pirates at the time - in 1801. Whilst not near the coast, Canton, today known as Guangzhou, became one of the most prominent and convenient riverine ports for both Chinese and foreign ships from the 18th century onwards. There are different versions of how the marriage came to be, ranging from a passive acceptance to the marriage, perhaps for the financial security it would provide, to some suggesting that the captain became infatuated by her when she tried to bite him. However, although it is popularly accepted by most that she was a prostitute, according to Dianne Murray, there is no actual evidence in primary sources which proves she was a sex worker. This information has been gathered by analysing secondary sources that have been published - many consider piracy as a whole rather than having a specific focus on Zheng Yi Sao herself. Assumptions of prostitution may be an example of misogyny of the historians, or an educated guess of how she would have been most likely to meet him. During their marriage, they successfully brought together varying different pirate crews into one large confederation. By the time of her husband’s death, their fleet numbered seventy thousand men and 400 junks. They organised their fleet by dividing it between Red, Black, White, Yellow, Blue and Green fleets - and Zheng Yi Sao played a prominent part in the 'business'. Working alongside her husband, she understood the ins and outs of the fleet, how to manage the men, the ships, and the finances. With the expertise and experience gathered during her years - both as a sex worker and wife of the captain - there was no opposition from the crew when, after Zheng Yi's death in 1807, she took over the command. To make sure she had support throughout the fleets, Zheng Yi Sao appointed Cheng Pao, a promising young sailor who had been captured, adopted by the couple and later rumoured to have been a lover of Zheng Yi, as captain of the Red Fleet - the largest of them all. Zheng Yi Sao would later come to marry Cheng Pao to ensure further loyalty. During the period she was ‘Pirate Queen’ of Chinese waters, Zheng Yi Sao became one of the most feared persons in the South China Sea, threatening not only to the Qing Emperor but also to the members of her own confederation. She developed a code of conduct for the crew, enforcing rules that if broken would be punishable by death. Some of the aspects of the code included cowardice, raping women and taking more treasure than allowed. Her economic and military power rose to such heights that the Chinese government begged both the Portuguese and British navies in 1809 for assistance to attack Zheng Yi Sao's confederation - which was victorious in the battles against the Western forces. After many battles at sea and discussions with their crew, Zheng Yi Sao and Cheng Pao proposed negotiations with the Empire. The negotiations were futile with Cheng Pao's leadership so, in 1810 Zheng Yi Sao went unarmed and alone to a meeting with the governor-general of the Qing Dynasty - and refused to leave until her demands were accepted. Zheng Yi Sao not only successfully administered the largest confederation of pirates in the world, but through negotiating their surrender she was able to maintain 80 junks for Cheng Pao for personal use, granting him a high military rank and additional 40 junks for commercial use. The pirates that made up their crew all got positions in the military - the fleet leaders placed in high positions and the remaining pirates serving as soldiers. Zheng Yi Sao lived alongside Cheng Pao and convinced the government to grant her titles that would equal her husband's patents. It is rumoured she started her own brothel which she successfully managed until her death in 1844. A woman with no military training or formal education, Zheng Yi Sao's impressive achievements in piracy should make her a house-hold name such as Blackbeard. From her tactics in leading the largest pirate fleet in the world to her remarkable negotiating skills that made sure no member of her fleet was to be left in danger of being charged for piracy crimes and were settled in the navy. Whether for the lack of known sources that can assert her incredible feats or simply for the small research done into women in piracy, Zheng Yi Sao was a forgotten woman in history but remains a very important figure to be studied and presented to the public. Read More about Women in Piracy and Zheng Yi Sao: → Pirate Women, the Princesess, Prostitutes and Privateers who Ruled the Seven Seas by Laura Soook Duncombe; chapter " The Most Successful Pirate of All Time " p. 237 - 256 → Flying the Black Flag: Revolt, Revoluition and the Social Organization of Piracy in the Golden Age by Chris Land - https://doi.org/10.1177/1744935907078726 → In the Business of Piracy: Entrepreneurial Women Among Chinese Pirates in the Mid-Nineteenth Century - chapter by C. Nathan Kwan in Female Entrepreneurs in the Long Nineteenth Century → The Pirates of Macao in Historical Perspective by Robert J Antony → One Woman's Rise to Power https://www.jstor.org/stable/41298765
- Lilibet and Daisy: Defining Modern Queenship
Glossary Agnatic Primogeniture: inheritance can only pass through the male line. There are different versions of this, however, this primarily means that women cannot inherit, nor can the right of succession be passed through their familial line. Cognatic Primogeniture: the first born male child will be the first in the line of succession (heir apparent), if there are no male children, then the first born female child will be first (heir presumptive) and they will be displaced if a male child is born. Absolute Primogeniture: the first born or eldest surviving child will inherit regardless of gender. Heir Apparent: denotes the first in line to inherit, they cannot be displaced Heir Presumptive: denotes the first in line to inherit, they can be displaced, e.g. by a male child. Salic Law: A type of Agnatic Primogeniture in which inheritance could not pass to women in any circumstances, including to male children via women’s lines. Known to each other as Lilibet and Daisy , Queen Elizabeth II and Queen Margrethe II had been the only two Queen Regnants in Europe since Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands abdicated in 2013. With Margrethe’s decision to abdicate on the 14 th of January 2024, the 52 nd anniversary of her accession, as announced in her 2023 New Year’s Eve address, Europe, and the world, ceases to have a reigning Queen. Queenship is a complex and difficult concept to study from a historical perspective and cannot be defined solely within the parameters that it is typically considered. It is often grouped with studies of women’s history more broadly, in ways that studies of kings are not grouped with ‘men’s studies’. This may be attributable to how ‘queenship’ as a concept is defined in studies of historical queens remains problematic. The word ‘queen’ is used to denote a ‘regnant’ (someone who rules in their own right), a ‘regent’ (someone who rules on behalf of another), a ‘consort’ (the wife of a king), a woman who holds similar or equivalent authority (such as an Empress, Pharoah or other leader), and the term ‘queen’ has developed another definition in contemporary LGBT slang. When we use the word ‘queen’ uniformly for all these definitions, even with their secondary definitions, it makes a study of what ‘queenship’ is, how it has developed and what it has meant through history incredibly difficult. This article asks what does ‘queenship’ mean in the twenty-first century? (I will note here that I focus on European Royal histories and so am primarily relating this discussion to Europe). Historically and still by definition, ‘monarchy’ is the political system through which an individual rules autonomously as sovereign, usually achieving her position via hereditary means. Most monarchies today have minimal actual authority and are heads of state almost entirely in name only. As we move into a world without these women as queens, I ask what made them so significant, and how can they be used to define ‘modern queenship’? The modern European monarch is decorative, a piece of national tradition and nostalgia whilst being effectively harmless. Regardless of your political view on modern monarchies, these families, and the institutions they are a part of maintain a significant place in the cultural identity of the nations they preside over. In Britain fascination with royalty is clear in the popularity of historic palaces as tourist attractions, period dramas which focus on the soap opera-like history of the monarchy and a borderline psychotic national obsession with the likes of Harry and Meghan, Kate and William and Princess Diana. Furthermore, eighteen months after her death, Elizabeth II continues to lead polls of the most popular British Royal at 75%. King Charles III placed sixth, at 51%, after Zara Phillips, Catherine, Princess of Wales, Princess Anne and Prince William. Furthermore, since Elizabeth’s death in September 2022 support for a British monarchy has dropped from a 38% positive rating to only 29% as of April 2023, and approximately 62% of Brits currently think that we should continue to have a monarchy whereas at the end of Elizabeth’s life this figure sat at 67%. More indicative of Elizabeth’s importance to the popularity of the British monarchy is that whilst 88% of Brits said that they liked Queen Elizabeth during her reign only 60% had a favourable view of Charles as king. Danish support for their Royals is similarly tied to their matriarch. Under her father’s rule, support for the Danish monarchy sat at 42%. Under Margrethe II, this figure has doubled to 84%. In fact, both women have been so popular, and instrumental in re-establishing the popularity of their respective monarchies that their sons, two long serving princes, King Charles III and King Frederik X face an insurmountable mission; to win over a public which has lauded their mothers and media which has disparaged them. Neither Queen was expected to accede to the throne when they were born. Elizabeth, born 26th April 1926, was the daughter of a second son, the then Duke of York. Margrethe, born on the 16th April 1940, although the eldest child of the king, was prohibited from the line of succession by something called agnatic primogeniture. This meant that only male heirs could inherit the throne, therefore, Margrethe’s uncle was the heir presumptive to the Danish Crown. At the age of 10, following her uncle’s abdication and father’s accession, Princess Elizabeth became the heir presumptive to the British throne. Elizabeth married Prince Phillip (of Greece and Denmark) in 1947 and the couple settled into a family life as close to normal as being a princess and working Royals would allow. Elizabeth and Phillip had two children, Charles in 1948 and Anne in 1950, before Elizabeth’s accession to the throne. When she became queen in 1952; at the age of 25 she and Phillip were in Kenya, on their way to a Royal Tour in Australia and New Zealand. Elizabeth returned to England and much like in The Crown , a black dress was brought on board the aeroplane for Elizabeth to change into. Her coronation in June of the same year was the first televised Royal Coronation, and began a prevalence of royal celebrity culture in the following decades. Elizabeth’s reign was colourful, to say the least and it would be remiss not to mention that over the seven decades of her tenure as Queen, there was rarely a peaceful moment. From war, political upset, decolonisation, assassination attempts, an increase in celebrity culture, four Royal divorces and global attention on a family argument. Despite this, Elizabeth was often praised for her personal and royal orderliness. This may be credited to a lifetime of leading by example. Throughout their youth Elizabeth and younger sister, Princess Margaret became sweethearts of the nation. Their father’s choice to stay in London during the Blitz and Elizabeth’s service with the Auxiliary Territorial Service in the Second World War won the family, and Elizabeth in particular lasting popular support. Her demeanour throughout her reign continued this, easily progressing from sweetheart, to mother, to grandmother of the nation. Following her death, news outlets stated that her popularity came from her calm, cheerful and friendly attitude, that she exemplified a British ideology of ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’. This is particularly noticeable in media output during the recent Covid-19 Pandemic. News articles adopted a wartime-like attitude, heralding Queen Elizabeth as a steady lead against uncertainty. Media attention during this period evoked British memories of her youth and the impact of war on British Nationalism. She was for many, the only monarch they had ever had and in terms of British National Identity, even eighteen months after her death, she is synonymous with Britishness. Queen Margrethe II, as mentioned, was also not the intended recipient for the throne. The House of Glucksberg, ascended the Danish throne in the 1850s due to a law which only permitted male incumbents called agnatic primogeniture (not dissimilar to Salic Law). This was changed in a long process beginning in 1947, when her father inherited the throne and it was clear that her mother, Queen Ingrid, would not have any further children after their three daughters. In 1953 the Danish Parliament passed the law which changed the constitution to allow for cognatic primogeniture, allowing Margrethe to become heir presumptive. Margrethe began playing a more visible role in the Danish monarchy after her eighteenth birthday, chairing meetings of the Council of State in the absence of her father. She went on to study in London, where she met French diplomat Henri de Laborde de Monpezat. The pair married in 1967, and now King, Prince Frederik was born less than a year later, his brother Joachim in 1969. Much like her English cousin, Margrethe ascended the throne with two young children, in 1972 at the age of 31. Her age likely played a significant part in her popularity, much like in Britain, the nation was allowed to enjoy a young family at its head, and Margrethe similarly evolved into the mother, then grandmother of the nation. Margrethe’s impact on the Danish people’s perception of the monarchy as an institution, is more dramatic than Elizabeth’s. Studies state that throughout her 52 years as Queen, public support for the Danish Royal family has doubled, with approximately 84% of the public supportive of the Queen. Her success can be attributed to her longevity and her consistency in her reign. Supplementary to this, Margrethe is active and she is charismatic. She has forged a career outside of her monarchical identity, something Elizabeth did not. As a visual artist Margrethe has illustrated editions of the Lord of the Rings novels; worked as a set and costume designer; designed the monograms for herself, the Crown Prince and Crown Princess, their familial monogram, and others. She contributed screenplays to several films based on Hans Christian Anderson’s stories. She has also produced church textiles for use in churches in Denmark and other locations, including the Danish Church of St Katharine in Camden, London. Despite their similarities in the longevity of their reigns, their actions as queens have differed. Whilst Elizabeth became Britain, Margrethe maintained an identity separate to the crown. Perhaps this is what allows the latter to step down this weekend. Like Elizabeth II's, Margarethe's reign has not been entirely smooth sailing. Her husband publicly protested in the decade before his death that he had never been able to use the title ‘king’ or ‘king-consort’, and complained about having to ask his wife for pocket money. He was later given a salary, although he continued to complain to the press. In 2023 she came under fire for the decision to strip her younger son and his family of their ‘prince’ and ‘princess’ titles and the right to be called ‘HRH’. The Crown stated that this was an effort to allow the younger grandchildren to live freer lives, without the pressure of Royal titles as they would not be expected to participate actively in the monarchy. Joachim and his family publicly protested this change, stating that they were unaware of her decision until the news broke in the media. Furthermore, her eldest son, the Crown Prince has a less than positive reputation in Denmark for being somewhat of a scandal, with rumours of affairs being given as a potential reason for Margrethe’s abdication. Conjecture like this isn’t really a helpful debate, but it is worth returning to the question of what do these sons inherit from such queens? On Elizabeth’s death, some of the earliest news articles questioned if Charles III would remain King, or if he would pass the throne to Prince William. With Margrethe’s abdication hitting the news, the calls have a new sense of urgency, several claiming that Charles stepping down for William and Catherine would be the ‘correct’ thing to do. Negative popular opinion undoubtedly stems from Charles’ years-long affair with his now wife, Queen Camilla, and the tragedy that befell Princess Diana in 1997. Support for Prince William to become king is a sense of public justice for the People’s Princess. The British public is obsessed with the young family. News that the children of the then Duke and Duchess of Cambridge would retain their place in the line of succession regardless of gender was met with significant celebration. Princess Charlotte now retains her place in the line of succession before younger brother, Prince Louis. In Denmark, the new King Frederik X is staring down the barrel of his kingship with several years of media drama in his back pocket. From photographs of him leaving hotels with other women and partying on a yacht with Mexican models, to semi-regular news articles that his wife, Australian born Queen Mary, has seen her life go from a real-life fairy tale to a soap opera. The questions in the media now: is Margrethe’s abdication an effort to save the monarchy by giving in to what Frederick wants (the crown) and force him to ‘grow up’? Will Mary and their young family be able to retain the popularity Margrethe has built up? To return to the question of ‘what does modern queenship mean?’ the answer unfortunately remains unclear. On paper, they are figurative, ceremonious, largely redundant, and expensive. As both Britain and Denmark mourn the loss of their Queens however, it becomes clear that the figure of the monarch, and uniquely the women who wear the crown, have adopted a sub-human level of laudation and heroism. Time will tell if these women have redefined modern queenship for the upcoming European Queen regnants. Perhaps their popularity will remain a novelty to Lilibet and Daisy. Future European Queen regnants Both Crown Princess Victoria and her daughter Princess Estelle are in line for the Swedish crown. They will be the fourth and fifth Queens of Sweden, after Queen Margarethe (who also ruled Norway and Denmark), Queen Christina (who abdicated after adopting her nephew and converting to Catholicism), and Queen Ulrika Eleanora. Victoria, born in 1977, had originally been displaced by her brother as heir apparent, however, when absolute primogeniture was introduced in 1979, it was done so retroactively, allowing for Victoria to become Crown Princess at the age of two. Sweden was the first European country to make this change to absolute primogeniture and the only to have done so retroactively. Princess Elisabeth is the heir apparent of Belgium. Absolute primogeniture was introduced 10 years before she was born, marking a significant difference from the country’s previous succession laws, a version of Salic Law, which restricted women from inheriting regardless of any other factor, even if she was the only immediate heir. Princess of Orange, Catharina-Amalia will inherit the throne of the Netherlands from her father. She will become the fourth queen regnant, after her grandmother, Queen (now Princess) Beatrix, Queen Juliana, Catharina-Amalia’s great grandmother, and Queen Wilhelmina, her great-great-grandmother. Princess Amalia is however, the first of these queens to be born heir apparent, as absolute primogeniture was introduced in 1983. Princess Leonor of Asturias is the heir presumptive in Spain. Spain continues to withhold cognatic primogeniture, meaning that although Leanor is the eldest of two teenage daughters, legally, she cannot be the heir apparent on the off chance that her father may have a son to inherit. The reasons for a reluctance to alter this part of the constitution is tied to concerns that if absolute primogeniture is introduced it may inspire women who have been excluded from lines of succession outside of the monarchy to retroactively claim inheritance. (Scandalous.) When she becomes Queen, Leonor will be the first queen of Spain since Isabella II, who abdicated in favour of her son after a series of rebellions in the late nineteenth century. Finally, Princess Ingrid Alexandra will accede to the Norwegian throne after her father, the current Crown Prince, Haakon. Absolute primogeniture was introduced in Norway in 1990, 14 years prior to Ingrid’s birth, this was not enacted retroactively however, so her aunt, the elder sister of her father, Princess Martha Louise, remains displaced in the line of succession. Like Margarethe II in Denmark, Princess Ingrid will be the second queen of Norway, after Queen Margarethe in the fourteenth century. Bibliography ‘Prince Frederik Caught Out!’, Magzter, (24.06/2019), < https://www.magzter.com/stories/Lifestyle/New-Idea/Prince-Frederik-Caught-Out > ‘Queen Mary of Denmark or, was Prince Frederik's affair scandal a masterstroke?’, Saint Joan, (02/01/2024), < https://saintjoan.studio/2024/01/02/mary-queen-of-denmark-or-was-prince-frederiks-affair-scandal-a-masterstroke/ > Elbaum, Rachel, ‘The life and legacy of Britain’s longest-serving monarch’, NBC NEWS, (08/09/2022), < https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/queen-elizabeth-life-legacy-uk-monarch-rcna17047 > Evenett, Heather, ‘Women, hereditary peerages and gender inequality in the line of succession’, UK Parliament, (03/10/2022), < https://lordslibrary.parliament.uk/women-hereditary-peerages-and-gender-inequality-in-the-line-of-succession/#:~:text=In%202013%2C%20the%20Succession%20to,the%20preference%20for%20male%20primogeniture .?> Hofverberg, Elin, ‘The Future Queen Regnants of Generation Z’, Library of Congress, (07/10/2022), < https://blogs.loc.gov/law/2022/10/the-future-queen-regnants-of-generation-z/ >, Lodge, Matthew, ‘Queen Margrethe's scandal-hit son Crown Prince Frederik will take the throne just months after rumours of an 'affair' with a Mexican socialite rocked the royal household’, Daily Mail, (31/12/2024), < https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-12914789/crown-prince-frederik-affair-queen-margrethe-abdicates-denmark-royal-family.html > Maltby, Kate, ‘A difficult lesson in love for poor Princess Mary of Denmark’, iNews, (02/01/2024), < https://inews.co.uk/opinion/a-difficult-lesson-in-love-for-poor-princess-mary-of-denmark-2834012 > Murphy, Victoria, ‘Will King Charles ever abdicate like Queen Margarethe II of Denmark?’, Town and Country, (03/01/2024), < https://www.townandcountrymag.com/society/tradition/a46274541/will-king-charles-ever-abdicate/ > Ritchie, Hannah, ‘Mary, Crown Princess of Denmark: Australia celebrates an unexpected queen’, BBC News, (04/01/2024), < https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-australia-67860144 > Switzer, Charles, ‘THE DANISH CROWN STRIKES BACK: PRINCE FREDERIK 'AFFAIR RUMORS' ADDRESSED IN RARE PALACE STATEMENT’, The Royal Observer, (17/11/2023), < https://www.theroyalobserver.com/p/prince-frederik-affair-rumors-addressed-in-rare-palace-statement > TalkTV, ‘“It Will NEVER Happen” Should King Charles Follow the Queen of Denmark And Abdicate?’, < https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xl2iRaSphcg > Statistics Smith, Matthew, ‘One year into King Charles's reign, how do Britons feel about the monarchy?’, YouGov, (07/09/2023), < https://yougov.co.uk/politics/articles/46032-one-year-of-king-charles-how-do-britons-feel-ab > ‘ Share of respondents in Great Britain advising they have a positive or negative opinion of Queen Elizabeth II from 2019 to 2022’, Statista, < https://www.statista.com/statistics/1358323/queen-elizabeth-favorability-rating/ > Serhan, Yasmeen, ‘Do Brits Still Want the Monarchy?’ Time, (02/05/2023), < https://time.com/6276478/british-monarchy-popularity-explained/ > ‘The Most Popular Royalty’, YouGov, (2023), < https://yougov.co.uk/ratings/politics/popularity/royalty/all > Hill, Amelia, ‘British public support for monarchy at historic low, poll reveals‘, The Guardian, (28/04/2023), < https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2023/apr/28/public-support-monarchy-historic-low-poll-reveals > Smith, Matthew, ‘Where does Public opinion stand on the monarchy ahead of the coronation?’, YouGov, (03/05/2023), < https://yougov.co.uk/society/articles/45654-where-does-public-opinion-stand-monarchy-ahead-cor?redirect_from=%2Ftopics%2Fsociety%2Farticles-reports%2F2023%2F05%2F03%2Fwhere-does-public-opinion-stand-monarchy-ahead-cor >
- Roses are red, violets are blue, singular they predates singular you*: the history of non-binary and the use of the pronouns they/them
DISCLAIMER: The author of this article, Gemma, uses she/her pronouns and the co-author and enby Director of The HERstory Project, Abby, uses they/them/she/her pronouns. Identity is something we can all relate to. You may label yourself as a goth, you may be neurodivergent, you may be studious, and you may belong to a religious group or fabulous culture. Whilst, LGBTQAI+ identities are becoming more accepted, there is still a lot of discussion from different world leaders, podcasters, or social media keyboard warriors which believe that people wanting to identify as non-binary means they can identify as “a toaster” or “the hottest man/woman so you must accept that, too!” But where is this anger even coming from? It is not too much to ask, especially in this day and age, to accept and appreciate those who are non-binary and to respect their identity. There is so much variety in biology that leads to making us, us; the way we think, feel, look, and act. So why, specifically, does using they/them pronouns grind people’s gears so much? You may argue “it’s not proper English '' but in fact, the singular ‘they’ is older than the singular ‘you’. This article will not only explore the development of singular ‘they’ in the English language (and in Swedish), but will also demonstrate through historical events just how old being non-binary is. First of all, let’s consider gendered terminology. For many of our gendered terms, how we understand them today was not how they were originally used. “Girl” was a word to refer to any adolescent child. The term really means “brat” which again, in its strictest sense is an adolescent. Gender could then be specified by the use of “knack girl” for males, and “gay girl” for females. Easier gendered terms did exist so the use of this suggests that gender neutrality was an acknowledged fact. Also in Middle English, the word “harlot” now usually used to refer to a sexually promiscuous woman originally meant a young man, knave or vagabond. It later developed into also referring to women, then almost exclusively about women. The Tales of Caunterbury , known today as The Canterbury Tales was written by Geoffrey Chaucer between 1387 and 1400. Chaucer is the first author to have written down the word “girl” (as “gyrl”) to refer to a child. The Canterbury Tales is also the first written occurrence of ‘ they’ being used in its singular form. ‘Whoso’ is a character but also refers to the syntactically singular ‘whoever’. “and whoso fyndeth hym out of switch blame, they will come up…” shows ‘Whoso’ being referred to as ‘they’. As ‘whoso/whoever’ is syntactically singular, this naturally makes ‘they’ syntactically singular, too. Chaucer wasn't the only one to use “they” in its singular form. Shakespeare uses it in several of his plays. A prime example is A Comedy of Errors, Act IV, Scene 3; “There’s not a man but doth salute me, as if I were their well-acquainted friend.” In this case, they and their work the same way as he and his or she and hers. This play was written approximately 150 years after Chaucer had used it in his work which shows that it was commonly used and unremarkable. Shakespeare also used “man” to refer to humankind so he has used two gender-non-specific terms. Yet in the twenty-first century, certain groups and individuals cannot, or will not, accept ‘they/their’ pronouns. How can the past appear more progressive than today? Both you yourself reading this today and ‘you’ in the singular form existed only after singular ‘they’. In fact, the singular version of ‘you’ remained ‘thou’ or ‘thee’ from the fifth century all the way to at least the fifteenth century. ‘Thou’ was still in use but became the more informal singular pronoun and ‘thee’ continued to be used as the object pronoun. At this point, ‘you’ or ‘ye’ became the formal subject singular pronoun. In the seventeenth century, ‘you’ had eradicated ‘thou’ and ‘there’ and was being used in all contexts, including singular form. The question and problem of what these terms mean does not seem to arise until non-conformity becomes an issue, or rather, until it becomes an issue that traditionalists cannot ignore. However, an effort for gender neutrality in language is not new or uncommon. Linguists have traced supplementary invented words directly intended to be gender neutral alternatives to the mid-nineteenth century, for example. In more recent history (2012, to be exact), Sweden has introduced the word, ‘hen’. This word is used as a gender-neutral pronoun to avoid using masculine or feminine pronouns and especially to avoid the degrading/dehumanising ‘it’ or ‘det’ in Swedish. ‘Hen’ in this case is not like ‘they’ or ‘de’ but in fact an entirely new pronoun. It was a natural addition considering in Sweden, ‘han’ is ‘he’ and ‘hon’ is ‘she’. The term was initially received negatively, however, according to a 2023 study by Waller and Baraja, within three years of the word being introduced Swedish people were more prone to using ‘hen’. Now, let's turn to non-binary and gender non-conforming existence throughout history. Non-binary identities are not recent. They may appear this way as society becomes more accepting and open, similar trends can be seen in conversations of queerness, neurodivergence and chronic illness. Regarding gender, there is a plethora of historical evidence, you simply have to look for it. Ancient deities, such as those who populate Greek mythology, were often depicted androgynously. ‘Goddess’ of Love, Aphrodite (Venus in Roman mythology, Inana in Sumerian, and Ištar in Akkadian) was said to appear to individuals as what they consider to be the most ‘beautiful’. In many depictions, particularly in Cyprus in later Antiquity, Aphrodite is depicted as having a beard. In a notable depiction of her ‘male’ version, she is depicted with a beard and a dress on, lifted enough to show a penis. Seeing this in person was believed to bring good fortune. This later morphed into the ‘God’ Hermaphroditus, the child of Aphrodite and Hermes. Ištar was described as being bearded ‘ like the god Ašur’ but with ‘beard’ (‘ziqnu’) meaning ‘to shine’ however it is clear that worshippers both depicted and described these ‘Goddesses’ as having a physical beard on their face as that is how they thought they would look. What is clear from antiquity sources is that androgynous features were commonly associated with divinity. Early Greek physicians such as Hippocrates (as in, the Hippocratic Oath) had their own theories and ideas on the idea of intersex and non-binary people. Hippocrates believed that gender falls on a “male-female spectrum” and that hermaphrodites were “the perfect balance between male and female”. Plato saw Aristophanes give a speech about three genders and Plato writes about this in ‘The Symposium’ . There were males, born from the Sun, females, born from the Earth, and androgynous, born from the moon. The androgynous people, being of both genders, had four arms, four legs, two heads and two sets of genitals. The androgynous were powerful and threatening to the Gods. Zeus did not want to destroy the androgynous so he cut them in two. The two halves would search for each other and embrace for eternity once they had found each other. Although a myth, this type of story tells us of just how much people from early history respected this spectrum of genders and created beautiful stories from them. In myth, androgynous people have power and can be reborn from love, in reality, individuals who were gender non-conforming were lauded as the divine. Non-binary, gender conformity and awareness of this is not restricted to the ancients however, whilst we cannot, and will not anachronistically impose an identity onto people who did not have the language and terminology to define themselves, it is worth identifying individuals who did not identify with their assigned gender at birth. We suggest that you look into these examples in more detail, and see our recommendations for where to start in our reading list at the end of this article! In the fourteenth century, Eleanor Rykener, also known as John, was arrested for being a ‘crossdressing prostitute’. They dressed as a women, solicited to both men and women and once arrested was defined as male. The Chevalier d’Eon was a French soldier who lived the first half of their life as a man, and the second half as a woman. To gain public and Royal acceptance of her identity, d’Eon claimed (and convinced) the king of France that she had been born female and raised male. Now she wanted to revert to her true sex. It was only upon her death that she was ‘outed’ as what we may call transgender, as when her body was prepared, male genitalia was discovered. Mary Ann Talbot, also known as John Taylor, crossdressed in the eighteenth century in order to become a sailor and a soldier during the French Revolutionary Wars. Staying within maritime history, female pirates and lovers Anne Bonny and Mary Read began their pirating days in male garb, both falling for the other without realising their true genders. Whilst both actually later identified as women and are shown to live as women later on, this is a true example of gender and sexuality non-conformity (the pair appear in the second series of Our Flag Means Death, and are also the inspiration for another non-binary character on the show). Another example of gender nonconformity for romantic freedom is Radclyffe Hall, an English Poet and author who identified as an ‘congenital invert’. Hall’s experiences are fairly unique in this list as they lived as sexologists were beginning to discuss the idea of a ‘third gender’. This ‘third gender’ was typically connected to manifestations of what we might call lesbianism. Hall had preferred the name ‘John’, to their given name ‘Marguerite’ in childhood. Their novel, The Well of Loneliness followed an ‘invert’, Stephen Gordon, an upper-class masculine woman as she explored her gender, sexuality and position. It is believed to be at least partially autobiographical. So gender non-conformity and identity crises are not a modern phenomenon. Furthermore, non-binary can also be understood as a manifestation of biology. Herculine Barbin, later known as Abel, was a French writer whose experiences with gender and sex exemplify the difficulty of defining these on a binary. Barbin was assigned female at birth, raised female and was actually referred to as Alexina. Later in life she was reclassified under law as male. In her memoir she refers to herself as female and uses masculine and feminine versions of French words interchangeably. In French and other Romance languages (languages evolved from Latin), nouns have a gender, and change form depending on the subject of a sentence. I use she/her pronouns when referring to Barbin to make this discussion clearer. When writing“I was happy about it”, she uses the feminine version “heureuse”, whilst the masculine version is “heureux”. In the sentence, “I had to live there as a stranger” she uses “étranger” (stranger) in the masculine form, the feminine form would be “étrangère”. This suggests that Barbin herself considered her gender to be somewhat fluid. Barbin became a teacher’s assistant and fell in love with a woman. She was also examined by a doctor, Dr. Chesnet, who claimed that Herculine had female genitalia but no obvious signs of a womb and also showed male body characteristics, including male reproductive organs. This led to the doctor to conclude she was “male, hermaphroditic” which today would be referred to as male pseudohermaphroditism. With this information, and the fact that she was having a relationship with another woman, the court assigned her male. Herculine found this ridiculous but after this, she changed her name and moved away from her lover, Sara. She lived in poverty until her untimely death at the age of 29. Her birthday is the date for Intersex Day of Remembrance (8th November). It is important to state that intersex people are not inherently non-binary and vice versa, however, intersex people are also gender non-conforming and do have an important place in this discussion. A recent piece of history is the fight to be labelled as ‘X’ rather than ‘M’ (male), or ‘F’ (female). Alex MacFarlane, an Australian activist and intersex person, was born with the chromosome XXY, also known as Klinefelter Syndrome. Alex felt that they felt that they were committing fraud if they were to be assigned either male or female on their birth certificate and their passport, when they were not either. Alex argued their case with the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade and despite initially being told that the system only understood ‘M’ or ‘F’, it was decided that Alex was correct. The conclusion was that’ ‘X should and would be used in their passport, but also on passports of those who were also non-binary and those who were intersex and identified as non-binary. Alex’s experiences have highlighted a legitimate legal issue when it comes to gender (and sex) identity. Acknowledgement and acceptance of intersex, non-binary and other gender non-conforming identities is both important to individuals and to the benefit of wider society. For example, in 2011 and 2022, Antoinette “Tony” Briffa, a third generation Maltese-Australian was elected Mayor of Hobsons Bay, the first person who is intersex and non-binary to be a mayor. Tony was born intersex and identifies as non-binary. Specifically, they were born with partial androgen insensitivity syndrome (AIS). They have worked tirelessly for the LGBTQAI+ community in which their whole Mayoral program focused on. They have also won many awards for their work in the community but also works with children. Tony was even a foster carer before their first Mayoral run. A little like Alex’s situation, they have also had issues with their legal documentation, having three separate birth certificates that have stated female, then male, and now blank. Something Tony would like to see is a birth certificate reflecting “the way nature made us ” . Alex and Tony instigate an important conversation regarding gender non-conformity and emphasise the need for acceptance of gender identity. The world is better off legally and socially when we accept everyone for who they are. Notable contemporary non-binary and gender non-conforming people are Richard O’Brien, Suzy Eddie Izzard and Divina de Campo. Richard O’Brien** is a British-New Zealand actor, writer and stunt person. They identify as third gender, feeling neither male nor female but uses he/him pronouns. Whilst Richard started out in the film and television industry as a stunt person in ‘ Carry on Cowboy’, his more notable work is writing, composing and acting in ‘ The Rocky Horror (Picture) Show’. ( If you haven’t seen it, you’re really missing out!) This was a musical written for the stage in 1973 and ‘broke’ so many gender norms to create this cult classic. There was cross-dressing, sexual expression, use of the terms ‘ transvestite ’ and ‘ transsexual ’. It also allowed its audience to equally express these things and appreciate this world. I have seen straight men dressed as Dr. Frank-N-Furter but not to make fun of the role, but to have fun in that role. There were so many sexual orientations and gender orientations in a film and theatre production that is now 50 years old. This is all because of Richard O’Brien’s desire to express himself and to demonstrate that gender and sexuality is not black and white, something he realised very early on in life. Suzy Eddie Izzard was long known as just Eddie Izzard for a long time, working in films such as My Super Ex-Girlfriend, Victoria & Abdul, and Stay Close. They also lent their voice to Cars 2 and The Lego Batman Movie amongst others. What they were most notable for was their stand-up comedy with a long list of stand-up specials. Suzy was also very open with wearing nail polish and make up whilst people still thought of them as Eddie, a comedic man who did the occasional film and television appearance. They self-described in the early 2000’s as an “ executive transvestite” and “ male lesbian” and when asked what people think of this look on an E! News Daily interviews, they stated “ 80% of people don’t give a monkeys [they don’t care]” and this is very much true, no one seemed to bat their eyelids at it and why should they? What is so loveable about Suzy is their ability to be so unapologetically them throughout their whole life and being so open when people could be so cruel. Eddie added Suzy to their name in March 2023 but has always wanted to be called Suzy since the age of ten. They describe themselves as genderfluid and uses transgender as an umbrella term but has known since the young age of four they were trans. Suzy discusses pronouns saying that “ no one can make a mistake ” and has “ boy mode ” and “ girl mode ” where he/him may be preferred, or she/her may be preferred when in those respective modes. Recently, they have moved into politics, running as a Labour MP for Brighton in 2023 (but lost the bid- never say never). Looking back on history and political history, people like Suzy need to be in politics as this representation is so important but also continues the conversation where political power is at its strongest. They’re in their 60’s, too (can you believe it?) and it goes to show it is never too late to start being your true authentic self, politician and all. Divina de Campo shot to fame on the first series of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK after doing drag since 2005. Whilst in Manchester, they regularly visited Manchester’s Gay Village and performed at Kiki (a bar that closed in 2020). As well as their time on Drag Race, they have won Best Performance at the UK Theatre Awards as Hedwig in Hedwig and the Angry Inch as part of Leeds Playhouse and HOME co-production. They are non-binary and use all pronouns. de Campo is still on the rise and it is exciting to see what they do in the future but the reason they are being discussed here and now is their videos of well researched and thought-provoking videos on how drag queens are not ‘ hurting’ children and those who are saying they’re a danger are the ones who are hurting children (and the country) the most. The messages are important and shut down, frankly, homophobic views. Check out Divina de Campo on Instagram (@divinadecampo) Gender fluidity comes with being human like breathing, being blonde, having hazel eyes or maybe an extra or missing limb does. Using singular ‘ they/them ’ is not breaking any grammar rules as we have seen from Chaucer and Shakespeare’s works and has existed for nearly eight centuries as written history demonstrates. Therefore, using ‘incorrect grammar’ as an excuse to dismiss a whole gender identity becomes obsolete. Even so, language has demonstrated since the existence of the spoken word that it, too, is fluid and people will use it however they want and however they need. In the words of Miriam Margolyes “ what does it matter to you [what pronouns someone uses]. If you can make somebody happy by calling them ‘they’ instead of he or she, why not do it ?” *rhyme supplied by @zombiecolour on Instagram, go check out their manicure skills! ** Comments previously made by Richard O’Brien regarding transgender people are thoughts not reflected by The HERstory Project or any of our team Further Reading Briffa, Tony. “Cr Antoinette (Tony) Briffa.” Briffa , briffa.org/ . Accessed 23 Nov. 2023. 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Plato. “The Symposium Section 5: 189c - 193e.” Edited by SparkNotes, SparkNotes , SparkNotes, www.sparknotes.com/philosophy/symposium/section6/ . Accessed 12 Sept. 2023. TalkTV. “Suzy Eddie Izzard: ‘It’s Suzy or Eddie and You Can Choose... No One Can Make a Mistake.’” YouTube , YouTube, 23 Mar. 2023, www.youtube.com/watch?v=DvaLUmUqsio . Sale, William. “Aphrodite in the Theogony.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association , vol. 92, 1961, pp. 508–21. JSTOR , https://doi.org/10.2307/283834 . Simon, Rebecca. “Anne Bonny and Mary Read: The Deadly Female Pirate Duo.” History Revealed Magazine , Dec. 2021, https://www.historyextra.com/period/stuart/anne-bonny-mary-read-female-pirates-lives-crimes/ . Accessed 12 Sept. 2023. Talbot, Mary Ann. "The Life and Surprising Adventures of Mary Ann Talbot, in the Name of John Taylor (1809)." Faculty Publications, UNL Libraries (2006): 32. 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