The issue of gender, and how it is depicted and discussed in popular culture, is one of the more heated points of debate at present. Television programs, films, books, and video games all present their audiences with competing stances on the matter. For some time now, I have wanted to discuss this in some way. I felt, however, that I would benefit from inviting someone better versed in the subject area to do so.
So I scoured the globe, hunting for someone who could shed light on this topic. Eventually, after extensive searching, I found one such champion in the Northern Hemisphere.
Dr Ana Stevenson, a PhD Graduate of the University of Queensland (Australia), is an historian and academic who recently completed her thesis entitled "The Woman-Slave Analogy: Rhetorical Foundations in American Culture, 1830-1900". As well as being a talented historian and former college-mate of mine, she has a keen interest in gender related matters.
As such, I thought she would be an excellent candidate for my discussion on gender in fiction. Today, I am pleased to present my first interview for The Narrative Within, the topic being Gender in Fiction, with my special guest: Dr Ana Stevenson.
Gender in Fiction: A Q&A with Dr Ana Stevenson
NC: When it comes to fictional literature, and in particular Fantasy,
do you feel that such works have an important part to play in the wider
discussion of gender, and feminism? If so, why?
AS: Yes, I think all literature, including fantasy, has an
important part to play in the wider discussion of gender and feminism. As an element of popular culture with an
ever-growing fan base, fantasy literature has the opportunity to present
different possibilities for the representation of gender, because it can
validate, challenge, and transcend the lived experience of gender identity.
Some fantasy writers, like George
R.R. Martin, have already acknowledged the important influence feminism has
had on their work and worldview. Nor is
he alone. Across science fiction,
speculative fiction, dystopian fiction, and historical fiction, Margaret
Atwood, Octavia
Butler, and Geraldine
Brooks, to name just a few, have likewise infused their writing with a
feminist perspective. David Weber’s
science fiction also explores female heroes who are strong, damaged,
independent – in short, complete people.
This doesn’t mean these authors only present women in their
best light, though. Instead, they use
their fiction to problematise and complicate the role of women, both in their
fantasy world, and in ours. Their novels have therefore sparked debate and even
controversy about the representation of women, gender, sex, power, violence,
rape, and bodily autonomy. I hope that
this is a trend that will continue in the future, as new novelists become inspired
by – and surpass – their forbears.
NC: Would it be reasonable to argue that works of fiction (and thus, by
extension their authors) have become more aware of sensitive issues surrounding
gender and feminism?
AS: Some literature has reached a tolerable awareness of gender
issues; other literature – even that of prizewinning
authors – hasn’t. This is not to
mention issues pertaining to race, sexuality, class, religion, nationality, and
a host of other issues – authors need to think about all of these intersecting
issues sensitively and reflectively.
Literature should never simply be content with reproducing the status
quo. In the past, concern about the politics
of gender in literature and popular culture have often accompanied social
movements toward women’s rights. This
happened during the late nineteenth century and the late twentieth century, and
is equally true in the present.
Unfortunately, this doesn’t mean that all works of fiction
have come to a more progressive view of gender.
Novels can still be misogynistic, not least because of how they depict
graphic and gratuitous sexual violence. For
literary scholar Margaret Bruder, the ‘aestheticisation
of violence’ that accompanies the visual medium of film represents a
disconnection between violence and its consequences.
Other forms of violence can also shape supposedly nuanced approaches
to gender in popular culture, under the guise of supposedly liberatory
representations of gender. Fifty Shades of Grey (2014), for
example, has been criticised for covertly depicting a form of domestic
violence in terms of romance. This
is not a prudish response to BDSM, but rather a concern over the way the female
protagonist becomes emotionally and physically isolated over the course of the
story.
When there is such a disconcerting overlap between
depictions of romance and violence both within and beyond the fantasy genre, as
the recent Gamergate
controversy has proven, it seems dangerous to become complacent.
NC: More than once in discussions on gender in Fantasy, a particular
argument has arisen. Namely, the argument that the author should model their
gender roles on those of the historical period that inspires their own setting.
Would you say that this is a fair assessment, or do you feel that it is a
defence used by authors who might fear they have depicted one gender unfairly?
AS: This is a very important question. Since fantasy is imaginative, it’s a bit of a poor excuse for authors to be content
with the gender demarcations of our own history and present. Just think of the different uses of gender
across multiple adaptations of Robin Hood.
It’s also important to remember that all popular culture
reflects its own era more clearly than the era it seeks to represent. This is true even when novelists are striving
toward historical authenticity. Fantasy,
unlike historical fiction, may seek to engage with an historical era, but it
usually depicts more of an imagined history.
Striving toward historical “accuracy” can also have its
downfalls. Take Game of Thrones, for example, which admittedly depicts widely
varied representations of gender. But some
commentators find this to be tame when compared to the fluidity
of gender during the medieval era.
Others argue that it is not based on medieval history, but actually the early
modern period – a discrepancy that is significant for any author who is
seeks historical authenticity. Still
others question the use of violence as party of the everyday in Game of Thrones. It has been pointed out that while the medieval
and early modern period were very violent, but this was largely limited to particular
spheres, in primary example being the violence of war. The television series in particular has a
degree of frequent and visceral violence is too
overwhelming to be authentic. When
there are so many questions about which vision of history inspired a particular
text, the fluidity between history and literature is really noticeable.
But what is
historical accuracy when it comes to depicting gender? Women have nearly always been restricted by
social conventions – as have men, though arguably to a lesser degree – but they
have never been wholly passive to such constraints. There’s also an important difference between
historical fact and the opinions of individual women toward these facts. Australian women did not have federal
suffrage rights until Federation, but what did individuals think about their
disenfranchisement? Some women believed
that it was their right to vote; others believed that the public realm of
politics would contravene their femininity.[1] In short, to imagine historical uniformity stifles creativity, but to
think about the gaps surrounding gender and gender identity presents wonderful
opportunities for the novelist.
NC: Recently, we both read Debra Ferreday’s article ‘GAME OF THRONES,
RAPE CULTURE AND FEMINIST FANDOM.’ Rape is an extremely sensitive topic within
society, and definitely within writing circles. What are your thoughts on the
depiction of rape in fiction?
AS: Debra Ferreday’s article is a great introduction to
journalistic, scholarly, and fan responses to rape in popular culture. There are many competing perspectives on this
topic, shaped by a few key questions: how
to depict rape; how
frequently it should feature in narratives; and whether it should be
depicted at all. I think controversial
topics like rape need to be addressed
because fiction and popular culture can condemn, but also communicate, the
horror and dehumanisation of such acts. That
being said, many if not most representations of rape unfortunately do not
achieve this goal.
Since Game of Thrones
is so popular – and has so many rape scenes – it’s a really useful example for thinking
about this question. Ferreday’s analysis of the way feminist fans reacted to
the Jaime-Cersei Lannister rape scene outlines just how different ‘feminist’
responses to rape can be.[2] One thing that needs to be said is that the
process of adaptation – in this case, between the novels and
television. Fans of the books and the television series
are deeply attuned to the important differences between the source material. By ‘botching’
the process of adaptation, from a morally wrong but basically consensual scene
in the book to a disturbing rape scene in S04E03, it has been suggested,
audiences are compelled to forget that it ever happened.
There should be no need for viewers to silently absolve a
character because of faulty adaptation, faulty depiction, or rape as a lazy
plot device. Since rape is a topic
of controversy
and cultural
currency, there is an urgent need to engage with this topic intelligently
and sensitively in popular culture.
NC: Does literature, in your opinion, have a duty to discuss social
issues such as rape, domestic violence, and the gender gap? What role should it
play in the discussion on these topics?
AS: From my perspective, literature can and should play an engaged
and even activist role in discussing contemporary social issues. Amanda Claybaugh’s analysis of nineteenth-century
social reform literature describes such works in terms of ‘the novel of purpose’.[3] If any novel has a purpose, surely it is to
bring an empowering and transformative message – particularly regarding social
justice – to reading audiences.
Historically, many social reform novels have become popular
culture blockbusters, so to speak. Take Harriet
Beecher Stowe’s antislavery novel, Uncle
Tom’s Cabin; or, Life Among the Lowly (1852), which became a
mass-market sensation during the 1850s in the United States and beyond. Feminist fiction such as played an
instrumental role in consciousness-raising,
as have later novels such as Anita Diamant’s The Red Tent (1997).[4] Similarly, climate
change fiction – which has its own genre name, cli-fi – such as Kim Stanley
Robinson’s Three Californias Series (1984-1990) plays the activist role, as do
disaster blockbuster films such as The
Day After Tomorrow (2004), 2012
(2009), and San Andreas (2015).
At the same time, novelists must be acutely aware of a
multiplicity of social justice issues so as to be as inclusive as
possible. The novels and films just
mentioned each perpetuated racist, sexist, and classist stereotypes, while the
cli-fi genre centres mostly on the experience of those living in the West. On account of their popularity, these
assumptions are shared with vast audiences, a process which continues as they
are recovered, republished, and become canonical. Social reform novels remain encumbered by the
prejudices of their era, but they also present a radical reimagining of society.
NC: The sensationalisation of sex and rape is in many ways not a new
thing in the literary world (cf. Donaldson’s The Chronicles of Thomas
Covenant), but Martin’s Game of Thrones saga has certainly upped the
ante, in no small way due to its great proliferation, which was only enhanced
by the HBO television series. Would you say this is a positive or negative
trend, and why?
AS: This is a very important question. Many have reservations about the
sensationalisation of sex and rape in Game
of Thrones. Its feminist potential
has been questioned,
as well as endorsed,
and these alternate perspectives often hinge on the power (both political and
physical) seized by female characters, or the prevalence of nudity, sex, and
gender violence. The varying responses
to the different rapes also reveal worrying degrees of acceptance. The rape of virginal Sansa Stark is deplored,
whereas perhaps the power-hungry Cersei Lannister deserved it? And the constant rape of the peasant women of
Craster’s Keep is now all but forgotten.
The sensationalisation of rape might, sadly, have the potential to boost
ratings and create free advertising in the form of social media outrage, but
it also has the potential to lose
viewers.
I think there needs to be an important distinction between
the nuanced depiction of sex and rape and the sensationalisation of these
topics. The representation of rape in
popular culture can bring to light the inequity and perversity of victim
blaming and slut shaming.
In this sense, it has the potential to
be transformative. If, however, the
representation of rape perpetuates harmful stereotypes about consent, bodily
autonomy, and sexuality, then it has the potential to be downright dangerous.
NC: At times, authors and writers might feel obliged to write in a more
‘politically correct’ way, including more dominant female characters, and
bringing matters of social justice to the fore in their work, often requiring
them to deviate from their original intentions. Do you think that this is
modern society guiding and shaping modern literature, or fear of conflict stifling
the creativity of modern authors and writers?
AS: I don’t necessarily agree with the foundations of this
question because the simple inclusion of ‘a strong woman’ is both tokenistic
and misses the point. It’s not just serving political correctness to
include a variety of people across the gender spectrum, from different social
and ethnic backgrounds and nationalities, and of different sexual
orientations. Striving toward a more
authentic representation of the world should make female characters – as well
as non-white, LGBTIQA, and other minority characters – central to many more narratives
than is currently the case. Not every
story needs to include all these elements, but greater narrative diversity
would disrupt the repetition of stories about young white men, for young white
men.
A simple way to even begin thinking about whether or not
literature and popular culture is reflective of modern society is to implement
The Bedchel Test. This test, while
useful, presents a ridiculously low base-line for the depiction of women in
popular culture. Developed by Alison
Bedchel in 1985, The Bedchel Test seeks to “call attention to gender inequality
in film” through three simple questions:(1) does the film have at least two named female characters; (2) who talk to each other; and (3) about something other than a man, or children?
A staggering number of films which have a strong or powerful
female character do not pass this very simple test. These include Mulan (1998), Avatar
(2009), and The Avengers (2012). Surprising films – such as How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days (2003) and Fifty Shades of Grey (2014) – do, in
fact, pass. This is such a simple litmus test that it has obvious limitations:
it does not account for how intrinsic the female characters are to the
narrative, nor does it account for sexist content more broadly. Still, passing The Bedchel Test can lead to
commercial success by appealing to wider audiences. Vastly successful films such as Thor (2012), Frozen (2013), and Cinderella
(2015) pass with flying colours. Frozen passes primarily on account of
its depiction of sisterhood,
even though other aspects of the narrative could be seen as problematic,
while Cinderella has also received competing
responses.
In a nutshell, a single interaction between female
characters is not representative of women’s lives. And creativity can be found in greater attention
to women’s lives and social justice. There
are artistic and commercial benefits to innovative storytelling, so this should
not be too onerous a task for novelists to prioritise.
NC: If a work was written in such a way that it reflected earlier works
of literature, works that did not include any significant female characters,
would you argue that this work is anti-feminist, or that it was merely an
homage in the style of the work it reflected?
AS: Just as contemporary literature reflects its own era, earlier
works of literature equally reflected the society in which it was produced.
Historically, the majority of women have not been seen as active
contributors to the public sphere, their work in the private sphere has been
either undervalued or idealised, and they have not been seen as
self-determining individuals.
Of course,
there’s a place for male-centric and female-centric literature, as there is
film. When such narratives characterise
men and women as full and complicated human beings, novelists are striving
toward the validation of women as well as men.
As previously mentioned, however, the majority of films cater for
audiences of young white western men, and this bias is similarly true of the
literary canon. (For an amusingly
demonstration of how this operates in other contexts, visit the excellent
tumblr, ‘Congrats, you have
an all male panel!’) There is an opportunity for new novelists to
upturn a literary canon that continues
to privilege men’s writing,
and to transcend the many limitations of this approach.
On a side note, I’m not particularly fond of the term
‘anti-feminist’ because it does not capture the multiplicity of negative and
hostile responses to feminism. The term
‘post-feminism’ has more contemporary utility, but it still implies that
‘feminism’ has a clearly defined meaning, when its meaning is always shifting,
always being contested.[5]
NC: My final question. As you well know, in my writing (possibly due to
me also being a student of history) I do extensive research on various elements
of my works, whether I am simply plaguing friends with bizarre questions, or
reading articles on medieval underwear and makeup. How important is it, when
depicting genders, to craft their image and mannerisms using research? Or would
you argue that an author should be as original as possible in their depiction,
drawing mainly from his or her own mind?
AS: Popular culture may always reflects the present more so than
the past, but this isn’t a reason to abandon the quest for historical
authenticity. Many fiction readers, Hsu-Ming
Teo writes, assume that the novels about history are largely factual –
something which is often not true.[6]
It’s important for any writer of
historical (or historically-inspired) fiction to aim for as much accuracy as
possible.
Research can be most effective when novelists identify and
understand their own personal biases. To
infuse the ‘facts’ with imagination, novelists should try and understand where
research can help challenge their preconceptions about gender identity and
gender representation. If research can
help the novelist come to new conclusions about gender, then through
imaginative storytelling, so too can the reader be introduced to that which
they had not previously considered.
Dr. Ana Stevenson is a Visiting Scholar in
the Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies Program at the University of
Pittsburgh. Her research interests
include feminism, popular culture, and the relationship between history and
literature. She tweets from @singin_banana.
Thanks to Sheilagh Ilona O’Brien,
a Ph.D. candidate in early modern history at The University of Queensland, for
her editorial comments. She tweets from @SheilaghIlona.
[2] Debra Ferreday,
"Game of Thrones, Rape Culture
and Feminist Fandom," Australian Feminist Studies 30, no. 83
(2015): 21-36.
[3] Amanda Claybaugh, The
Novel of Purpose: Literature and Social Reform in the Anglo-American World
(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2007).
[4] Lisa Maria
Hogeland, Feminism and Its Fictions: The Consciousness-Raising Novel and the
Women's Liberation Movement (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press, 1998).
[5] Angela McRobbie,
"Post‐Feminism and Popular Culture," Feminist Media Studies 4,
no. 3 (2004): 255-264.
[6] Hsu-Ming Teo, Desert
Passions: Orientalism and Romance Novels (Austin: University of Texas
Press, 2012).
