MJFS: McGill's Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies

MJFS is an undergraduate academic journal at McGill University entirely run by McGill students, publishing the work of McGill students. MJSF is affiliated with the Gender, Sexuality, Feminist and Social Justice Student Association (GSFSSA) at McGill University.

Authors retain copyright and grant the journal right of first publication with the work simultaneously licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial License (CC BY-NC-ND) that allows others to use and share the work with an acknowledgment of the work’s authorship and initial publication in this journal, as long as it is not used for commercial purposes.

The production of this journal, including editorial selection, formatting, and designing, was carried out by the 2022 MJFS Editorial Board.

Please note that the opinions expressed in this edition of MJFS are those of the authors and contributors and do not necessarily reflect the viewpoints of the members of the MJFS editorial board.

MJFS

Land Acknowledgement The McGill Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies wants to acknowledge that our work exists mainly out of McGill University, which is situated upon the unceded territories of the Kanien’kehá:ka/Anishinaabeg. McGill University rests on Tiotia:ke/Mooniyang, a site which has served as a meeting place for Indigenous nations. MJFS acknowledges that our work also takes place within these territories, and encourages readers to address the need for solidarity with Indigenous groups across Tiotia:ke/Mooniyang and Turtle Island.

We encourage readers to commit to going beyond land acknowledgements, and to support concrete actions for reparation. As such, we have gathered some resources for readers to learn more about Indigenous water and land protectors across Turtle Island, as well as Indigenous organizations in Tiotià:ke/Mooniyang. This list is non exhaustive, and we encourage you to look even beyond these resources.

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McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies

Beyond Land Acknowledgements Learn More About Water and Land Defenders Stop Line 3: Land defenders organizing against a proposed pipeline expansion to bring nearly a million barrels of tar sands per day from Alberta, Canada to Superior, Wisconsin. Enbridge seeks to build a new pipeline corridor through untouched wetlands and the treaty territory of Anishinaabe peoples, through the Mississippi River headwaters to the shore of Lake Superior. Find out more here: https://linktr.ee/stopline3 The Unist'ot'en (C’ihlts’ehkhyu / Big Frog Clan) are the original Wet’suwet’en Yintah Wewat Zenli distinct to the lands of the Wet’suwet’en. They are currently organizing against Enbridge’s Northern Gateway Pipeline, Chevron’s Pacific Trails Pipeline, and TransCanada’s Costal Gaslink Pipeline.

Find out more here: https://unistoten.camp/ Ada'itsx/Fairy Creek Blockade: The Fairy Creek Blockade is a volunteer driven, grassroots, non-violent direct action movement organizing on unceded Pacheedaht and Ditidaht territory. Find out more here: https://laststandforforests.com/

Indigenous Organizations in Tiotia:ke/Mooniyang: Open Door Shelter: a drop-in centre providing services to homeless and low-income people in downtown Montreal, that is often looking for volunteers.

Native Women Shelter: the only shelter in Tiotia:ke/Mooniyang that provides services exclusively to Indigenous women and their children.

First Peoples Justice Center: a center which supports Indigenous people in their dealings with the justice systems, providing legal information and tools for clients, and alternatives to the justice system itself.

Resilience Montreál: a community-led project, initiated by the Native Women’s Shelter, established to support the homeless population in the Cabot Square area Mobilizing for Milton-Parc: a student-led group which supports Indigenous and non-Indigenous unsheltered population of Milton-Parc through food support, material support, community building and settler education projects.

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FOREWORD

MJFS

Welcome to the inaugural issue of McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies (MJFS): an interdisciplinary undergraduate journal dedicated to work pertaining to gender and feminism.

Established in 2021, MJFS aims to provide a platform for students to share their contributions to the field.

With the mission to showcase the scholarship of authors coming from various academic backgrounds, the journal highlights the interdisciplinary nature of gender and feminist studies. In this first issue, readers will find pieces from various disciplines including sociology, art history, social work, and political science. Whilst adopting an intersectional lens, our first issue presents a wide sweep of important topics that shed light on the intricacies of individuals’ experiences and locality.

In doing so, MJFS aims to provide a comprehensive understanding of how oppressive systems can be deconstructed to provide spaces for new discursive models and epistemologies to emerge; eventually leading to the foundation of more inclusive institutions.

With this being our first edition, we would like to express our gratitude to all the students, professors, clubs, and organizations that supported us in creating McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies.

Thank you to our two faculty advisors, Dr. Alex Ketchum, and Mr. Michael David Miller. We are incredibly thankful for your mentorship and guidance throughout the process of establishing MJFS. We feel extremely lucky to have advisors who are so eager to help support us in our new initiatives.

Thank you to the GSFSSA and the IGSF for offering your encouragement and advice during the development stages of the journal and all the way to publication. We appreciate all you have done to help our journal build its team and gain traction within the McGill community. Thank you to the various journals at McGill who have been more than willing to share their own experiences establishing and running a journal. Your suggestions have been invaluable and have helped us navigate the process of starting a journal from scratch. We would like to particularly thank The Pre-Law Review, Flux, and Pulse.

We would especially like to thank the entire MJFS team. When we first began recruiting editorial board members we were overwhelmed by the number of people eager to join and help fill the gap in feminist academic literature at McGill University. Each and every one of you has played a key part in shaping the journal, and making our first ever publication a reality. We are incredibly grateful to have had such a dedicated and talented team working with us.

Lastly, we would like to thank you, our readers, for allowing us to put this edition together and showing continuous enthusiasm for our work. We truly hope that you will enjoy reading the journal as much as we have enjoyed developing it with our team. We cannot wait to see what the future holds for MJFS, and we hope you will remain by our side as we look to expand our work and welcome new members next year.

Sincerely, Jemima Maycock (she/her/elle) and Anna Lafforgue (she/her/elle) Co-Editors-in-Chief, 2021-2022

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McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies

Co-Editors in Chief Anna Lafforgue Jemima Maycock

Managing Editor

Layout Manager

Senior Editors

Director of Communications and Public Relations

Laine McCrory

Kate Addison

Rahema Imitiaz Ishika Obeegadoo Catherine Plawutsky Taneeshaa Pradhan Alessandra C. Marre

Annette Hong Kim

Director of Outreach and Engagement Della Waldrop

Junior Editors Millie Murray Morgan Geyer Juliet Morrison Colette Billowits

Graphic Designer Eve Cable

Authors

Madeleine Balliette Juliet Morrison Molly Mckenzie Erica Brown Jessana Akehurst

Advising Editors Ashna Naidoo Syeda Zareen Rafa

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MJFS

Table of Contents Bridled by Binaries:

A Queer, Feminist Reading of Bonheur’s The Horse Fair (18521855)

By Madeleine Balliette

P. 7-14

A Feminist Evaluation of McGill’s Response to Sexual Violence

By Juliet Morrison

P. 16-28

Dangerous Greed:

A Global Investigation into Sexual Violence in Resource Extraction

By Erica Brown

P. 30-41

Caught Between Two Spheres: Disabled Women’s Labour Under Capitalism

By Molly McKenzie

P. 43-48

An Act of Resistance:

The Experience of Lesbian Gender as an Anomaly

By Jessana Akehurst

P. 49-57 5.

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Bridled by Binaries:

A Queer, Feminist Reading of Bonheur’s The Horse Fair (1852-1855)

By Madeleine Balliette (she/her) Edited by Taneeshaa Pradhan (she/her)

Abstract Bridging the divide between art history, queer theory, and feminist studies, this paper takes a critical look at how Rosa Bonheur’s The Horse Fair as a subversive viewpoint of popular discourses regarding gender and sexuality in the 1800s. Building upon the scholarship of the significance of horses within art in the nineteenth century, it is argued that Bonheur’s depiction of a struggle between the horses and their human counterparts represents a perspective that differs from traditional gender and sexuality binaries of the time. In this reading, it is argued that the horses represent the strength of women, and an encouragement to challenge the ideals that kept them from freedom.

This paper additionally presents an argument to read The Horse Fair not only as a feminist piece, but as a representation of queer sexuality, factoring in Bonheur’s relationship to her own sexuality.

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Introduction

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies artist and her mother was a pianist and the daughter of a moderately successful Bordeaux merchant (Collis 2016, 74). The family moved to Paris in the hopes of better financial fortune when Rosa was six. It was there that Sophie Bonheur died only four years later, leaving the caretaking largely to her widower (Ashton and Hare 1981, 29). With his connections and access to the elite art world afforded by his racial privilege, Raimond was able to provide his daughter access to training that would have otherwise been unavailable to a lower-class girl in the early nineteenth century.

Even during her childhood, Rosa was always described as strange and rebellious.

Her own mother wrote of her in 1829: “I don’t know what Rosalie will be, but I have a conviction that she will be no ordinary woman” (Collis 2016, 75). Despite her constant nonconformity, she showed great artistic promise and was sent to the Louvre at age fourteen to begin her professional training as one of their youngest budding artists (Collis 2016, 31).

In 1853, Napoleon III stood in the Salon admiring Rosa Bonheur’s The Horse Fair (1852-1855) for its formally impressive portrayal of conflict on a massive canvas. Soon after, he turned to face Gustave Courbet’s The Bathers (1853) with disgust as he looked at the unidealized nude woman. As the story goes, the Emperor reached out and hit the canvas’ “offending buttocks” with his riding crop, equating her body to that of Bonheur’s horses on the opposite wall “as if the flesh of woman and the flesh of horse were one and the same under man’s controlling gaze” (Chadwick 1993, 91).

The offensive nudity of Courbet’s bather was reduced by Napoleon III to animalistic, and his punishment further equated her to a disobedient horse. Rosa Bonheur was certainly well aware of the discourses about the like subjugation of women and animals as she painted The Horse Fair (and indeed all of her animal paintings). She still found the subject matter worthy of representation, and continued to paint animals with passion until her death in 1899. In this essay, I investigate the iconographic significance of horses in the nineteenth century with a focus on Bonheur’s horses in The Horse Fair.

Further, I will argue that horses were fitting subjects for her as a queer woman aware of her own subjugation and that this painting was subtly subverted popular discourses of the time on gender and sexuality.

Upbringing and Character

Rosa Bonheur was born in Bordeaux, France to Raimond and Sophie Bonheur in 1822. Her family, although reltively poor, was well-educated and artistically inclined: her father was a politically active

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In her young adult life, Bonheur’s rebelliousness only increased, and she began to be known not only for her artistic promise as an animal painter, but for her unique and iconic rejection of traditional femininity (Collis 2016). She was very successful from an early age and became financially independent as a young adult.

Due to her early success and financial freedom, as well as her unmarried status, she was not held to the same standards of respectability as other women artists of her time, such as Berthe Morisot and Mary Cassatt. On the contrary, she had a tendency to disdainfully write off femininity. According to scholar Dore Ash-

MJFS ton, she became “known as an original character – a woman who rode her horse astride through the streets of Paris and who remained with the men after dinner to smoke her cigarette” (Collis 2016, 81).

She would regularly disguise herself as a man to gain access to masculine spaces such as stockyards, livestock markets, and slaughterhouses, where she studied animal anatomy (Saslow 2018, 88). Due to strict gender roles and the criminalization of cross-dressing, she even had to acquire a police certificate called a permission de travestissement, which allowed her to wear masculine clothes in certain public spaces.

She had to reapply for this permit every six months (Collis 2016, 78). Her disregard for traditional gendered roles of the time present her as an unconventional woman artist of the nineteenth century.

Combined with a lack of documentation linking her romantically to men, Bonheur’s rejection of traditional femininity has led queer scholars to investigate other relationships in her life. The one companion with whom Bonheur was linked was a woman named Nathalie Micas. Their relationship began when Bonheur was only fourteen and the pair lived together in Micas’ home for years up until Micas’ death in 1889 (Collis 2016, 47). Despite this relationship never being officially stated as romantic, art historians such as James Saslow, Dore Ashton, and Denise Browne Hare acknowledge the women as lesbians. The Micas family entirely accepted Bonheur as Nathalie Micas’ life partner to the extent that it was Monsieur Micas’ deathbed wish that the two women stay together (Collis 2016, 77). While the two kept the nature of their relationship mostly hidden, they

openly supported and expressed their deep affection for one another – an exceptional statement given the lack of acceptance for non-heterosexual relationships in France at the time (Collis 2016, 77). In this context, Bonheur’s frequent description as masculine and recluse holds water –‘masculine’ was often coded language for lesbianism in the nineteenth century (White 1999, 4), and her recluse can be explained by her having to hide her romantic relationship with Micas.

The Horse Fair

While she had earlier works displayed in the Salon, the painting that brought Bonheur to the forefront of the Parisian artists (Fowle 2013, 40) was a massive 2.44 x 5.07-meter painting entitled The Horse Fair, which depicts a chaotic scene at the horse market at Boulevard de L’Hôpital in Paris, featuring an embedded self-portrait of Bonheur herself. In this painting, a group of horses is rearing and throwing their heads back, their muscles flexing under dappled sunlight through the trees above. The horses’ attendants struggle in vain to corral them, some riding and some leading the horses by their bridles. In the background, a group of well-dressed male patrons rest leisurely on a hill, looking down at the scene below, presumably perusing the horses for sale. Each human subject has a partially hidden or turned face except for one – the central figure who looks directly at the viewer with an expression that I read as a half-grin. The figure’s face parallels the face of the rearing white horse to their left, both in a 3⁄4 viewpoint with their eyes on the painting’s viewer. Recent scholarship has taken a second look at this hu9.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies man figure, noting that it is the only male subject with a lack of facial hair. Further, the figure’s eye contact amidst the chaos of the scene is a seemingly strange addition, certainly worthy of a closer look. Convincingly, James Saslow argued in 1992 that this figure is a self-portrait of Bonheur, “who confronts the viewer with the male guise she adopted for her sketching forays in these very stockyards” (Saslow 2018, 89).

This would explain the lack of facial hair and the coy smile, as if she is confronting the viewer who was clued into this subtle subversion.

panion-relationship between human-animal or the dominance of man, she shows a powerful struggle between the horses and their human counterparts.

Bonheur’s unique portrayal of animals gained her much attention in France and Britain. Many critics at the time saw the animal subjects in The Horse Fair as a metaphor for post-enlightenment societal anxieties: “nineteenth-century belief in a social order constantly threatened by powerful external forces found a perfect metaphor in images of the horse, an animal at once large and powerful, physically stronger than man and socially productive only when bent to human will” (Chadwick 1993, 95). In this reading, the painting depicts an “epic struggle” of culture versus nature (Chadwick 1993, 93). This fell comfortably within enlightenment discourses on the culture-nature divide and the struggle between the two, with an assumed heroic man. With this reading of this painting, however, Bonheur’s identity is entirely erased, and a general male perspective is thrust upon it. I find it infinitely more compelling that The Horse Fair must be considered in tandem with Bonheur’s gender and sexuality, and that the inclusion of her own image is integral to understanding it.

There has been much scholarship on the iconographic significance of horses in art throughout history. As late as the early modern period, they were relied upon “for everything from labour to transportation to recreation” (Chadwick 1993, 91). However, as industrialization reduced the need for horses, the iconographic representation of them changed significantly. In the nineteenth century, horses became a sign of affluence and status, particularly for men as equestrian activities were gendered mainly masculine (Chadwick 1993, 91). Despite their undeniable strength, popular representations of horses in paintings at this time emphasized their domesticity and ability to be tamed by man. For example, English artist Edwin Landseer’s Shoeing (1844) porBonheur saw a connection betrays a stable in which a man is working to tween the female condition in the mid-nine‘shoe’ his horse, while a nearby donkey and teenth century and the plight of animals dog look at him in watchful obedience. In (Saslow 2018, 191). Considering Napoleon paintings like Landseer’s, art is used to re- III’s reaction to a nude female body after assert masculine ideals of domination over viewing The Horse Fair, their correlation is the natural world, inadvertently uphold- evident. Like many others, Bonheur undering traditional gender binaries. Bonheur’s stood that the same ideology that “sought painting differs greatly from this popular to restrict women’s freedom to a narrowly representation: rather than depict a com- defined and powerless domestic sphere was 10.

MJFS couched, like the ideology of animal control, in terms of nature” (Saslow 2018, 199). The assumed limitations of women were often ascribed to animalistic qualities, and women were constantly told to overcome their animal natures (Chadwick 1993, 96). Thus, the subjugation of women was deeply connected to the belief that animals were ‘less than’ men. Further, the language used to talk about horses in particular was strikingly similar to language that was deployed towards women. In British Zoology from 1812, horses are described as having all of the beneficial qualities that make them “subservient to the uses of mankind, including courage, docility, patience, perseverance, strength, benevolent disposition, and a certain consciousness of the services we can render them” (Pennant 1812, vol. I, p. II). Feminist art historian Whitney Chadwick points out that the ideal middle-class woman, time and time again, is described using strikingly similar language (Chadwick 1993, 97).

not entirely free; despite their strength, they still were bridled and brought to a horse fair to be sold and owned. In this sense, The Horse Fair can be read as a rendering of the strength of women and an encouragement to challenge the ideals that kept them from freedom. Further, the only figure amidst the chaos who is not struggling is the person in the middle of it all, who has been thought to be Bonheur’s self-portrait. This takes the metaphor a step further, as the only female figure in the entire market does not fight against the horses. Rather, she works alongside the harnessed horses to disrupt their comparable subjugation.

Self-Representation and Identity

Any analysis of Bonheur’s work is incomplete without critical consideration of her nonconformity to gender and sexual orientation norms. With a queer reading of The Horse Fair, the animal subjects and self-portrait take on a more complex iconographic meaning. To draw from scholar Robert Mills (2001), a queer reading of an artwork does not simply entail considering the artist’s queerness, but rather reading “against the grain of conventional critical practice in order to expose the regulatory hierarchies that define and qualify the heterosexual imperative as normal” (2). Thus, a reading of Bonheur’s work is deepened by considering the subtle subversive nature of this work, hinting at her queerness and critiquing the strict binaries of sexuality and gender in her society.

The knowledge of the closely related plight of animals and the condition of women in the nineteenth century further complicates Bonheur’s frequent depiction of horses. While the horses in her painting are not ‘wild’, they maintain a certain wildness in their protest to human will. They do not abide by the attendant’s orders, but have individual agency and desires, conflicting with that of the men struggling (and failing) to calm and contain them. Rather than highlighting their moldability and compliance, Bonheur made the informed decision Horses, interestingly, were not unto emphasize their strength, which was common for a queer woman at this time to subversive to popular discourse not only feel a camaraderie with. The image of the about the subservience of animals, but also horse was in some ways a “fluid sign – at of women. Like women, these horses were 11.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies times masculine, at others feminine – within mid-century constructions of gender” (Chadwick 1993, 99). While the domesticated depiction was considered feminine for its subservience, the equestrian act was very much gendered masculine. The amazone, or Parisienne horsewoman, is a figure that represents this fluidity well (Weil 2020, 103).

The amazone was an upper-class woman who had the financial and social freedom to wander within the public realm freely without a man or a chaperone alongside her, and notably to own a horse and participate in equestrian activities (Weil 2020). There was an ambiguity of sexuality with the figure, which is likely attributed to the ‘masculine’ clothing required to ride a horse, as well as the generally masculine equestrian space (Weil 2020, 104).

amazones’ added ability to be independently mobile and traverse the city on her own while on horseback. Bonheur herself could easily have been argued to be an amazone figure, and thus her camaraderie with horses was fitting with her queerness, which was often associated with masculinity.

Further, Bonheur in her own words expressed the confinement of gender roles using the language of equestrian culture.

To Bonheur, animals were the perfect metaphor for “both social constraint and imagined freedom”, given their captivity yet maintained wildness (Saslow 2018, 200). In a letter in 1864, Bonheur described the way she felt held captive by ideals of femininity to which she did not conform, stating: “I have to endure the trying on of a dress with a train, and to be alert lest I am surprised in trousers and blouse... I indulge in serious meditations on liberty... So you can imagine... how fine I must be harnessed” (Stanton 1976, 161). Likewise, she had often described the feeling of being in standard female clothing as being “tethered” to convention, and a gala dress as a “harness” (Stanton 1976, 211). Her use of equestrian language to describe her personal experiences, makes her solidarity with horses evident, suggesting her feeling of confinement within societal expectations.

As horseback riding became increasingly popularized in nineteenth-century France, a select number of upper-class women were given tentative access to equestrian leisure, though not without anxiety about the repercussions. Eventually, the term amazone came to be synonymous with a confusion of gender and sexuality (Weil 2020, 109). According to scholar Kari Weil (2020), “as more and more women took up riding, they inevitably came up against its associations with the kinds of physical, social, and sexual mobility that were the prerogative of men or the wrong kind of Bonheur’s inclusion of her women” (108). The wrong kind, at the time, self-portrait was a way to represent her exreferred to women with masculine or homo- perience as an unconventional woman – her sexual tendencies. The women who identi- queerness as part of her identity. She does fied as amazones generated anxiety about not portray herself in a dress (which she felt gender as they challenged nineteenth-cen- was her equivalent of a harness), but rathtury gender ideals by engaging with tra- er she disguises herself in men’s clothing, ditional masculine activities in the public looking cheekily out to only those close sphere. This was further exacerbated by the enough to her to get the joke. Through a 12.

MJFS feminist reading, Bonheur’s portrait amongst the powerful depiction of horses in The Horse Fair emphasizes the like captivity of women. These feminist themes are further strengthened by the fact that she is the only human figure who is working alongside the animals rather than struggling to contain them. Bonheur also seems to hint at her sexuality by including herself among the ‘sexually fluid’ figure of the horse as an amazone figure. Those close to her would also be aware of her likening the confinement she felt in women’s clothes with a harness and its tether to conventionality, thus confirming that her portrait represented her distaste for strict gender and sexuality binaries.

erosexuality. The clever inclusion of her self-portrait presents the parallels between the plight of animals and women while hinting at her own sexuality and experience of repressing her queerness.

Conclusion In order to read The Horse Fair, one must factor in the life of Rosa Bonheur and her identity as a queer woman. The iconographic meaning of horses in nineteenth-century France was patriarchal in itself: they often represented the power of man over nature through the popular representation of horses as feminine, subservient, and captive. The equestrian culture was exclusive to men until the nineteenth century, when upper-class women began to become integrated into equestrian circles. Throughout Bonheur’s lifetime, the female equestrian became more commonplace, though she was met with anxieties about blurred gender and sexual orientation lines. When Bonheur painted The Horse Fair, she was aware of discourses about the like subjugation of women and animals. Her depiction of struggle represents a powerful rebellion against conventional ideals of femininity and het13.

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References

Ashton, Dore, and Denise Browne Hare.

Rosa Bonheur: A Life and a Legend. A Studio Book. New York: Viking, 1981.

Bonheur, Rosa. “The Horse Fair”, 18521855. New York City/Metropoli tain Museum of Art. Chadwick, Whitney. “The Fine Art of Gen tling,” in The Body Imaged: The Human Form and Visual Culture Since the Renaissance, edited by Adler, Kathleen, and Marcia R Pointon (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 89-108.

Collis, Rose. “Rosa Bonheur” in Portraits to the Wall : Historic Lesbian Lives Unveiled. Gender Studies : Bloomsbury Academi Collections (London, UK: Bloomsbury UK, 2016), 73-85.

Courbet, Gustave. “The Bathers”, 1853.

France/Montpellier/Musée Fabre.

Fowle, Frances. n.d. “Picturing the High lands: Rosa Bonheur’s Grand Tour of Scotland,” 10.

Landseer, Edwin. “Shoeing”, 1844. United Kingdom/Britain/Tate Britain.

Mills, Robert “‘Whatever you do is a de light to me!’: Masculinity, Mas ochism and Queer Play in Representations of Male Martyr dom. In: Exemplaria. 13(1). 2001.

1 - 37.

Pennant, Thomas. British Zoology. An ewed. Place of publication not identified: publisher not identified, 1812.

Saslow, James. “Disagreeably Hidden,” in The Expanding Discourse: Femi nism and Art History, edited by Broude, Norma, and Mary D Garrard (New York: Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group, 2018), 187-205.

Stanton, Theodore. Reminiscences of Rosa Bonheur, New York: Appleton, 1910; repr. New York: Hacker, 1976.

Weil, Kari. “Purebreds and Amazons: Race, Gender, and Species from the Second Empire to the Third Republic” in Precarious Partners: Horses and Their Humans in Nineteenth-Century France.

Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2020. 103-130.

White, Chris. Nineteenth-Century Writings on Homosexuality: A Sourcebook.

London: Routledge. 1999. 4.

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McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies

A Feminist Evaluation of McGill’s Response to Sexual Violence

By Juliet Morrison (she/her) Edited by: Catherine Plawutsky (she/her), Millie Murray (she/her) Content note: this paper explores the topic of sexual violence and sexual assault within the McGill community. We all have a responsibility to keep one another safe, and as such we want to encourage readers to prioritize their health and safety. Please take breaks from reading if you find yourself needing to do so, and feel free to reach out to MJFS with any specific concerns you or someone you know is worried about your safety, or would like to talk, consider contacting the Montreal Sexual Assault Centre at +1 888-933-9007 or texting the Crisis Text Line by texting HOME to 686868. Additionally, for on campus resources, you can call the DIAL Hotline (514-398-8500) run by the Sexual Assault Center of the McGill Students’ Society.

Abstract This piece examines McGill University’s response to sexual violence, and finds that there is a disconnect between the purported aims of the policy - to prioritize survivors and remove structural reporting barriers - and the policy’s actual ability to do so. The provincial legal constraints faced by the university make it difficult to disclose cases on campus, representing a significant limitation in regards to providing accountability. A case of alleged sexual violence, occurring in December 2020, is used to highlight how McGill has failed to adhere to its policy aims. This paper uses a feminist framework to explore where the university’s policy aligns with the framework and where it falls short. Ultimately, this paper argues that survivors still contend with an immense burden in reporting sexual violence, which is reinforced by lack of accountability from McGill about cases due to its legal constraints Preliminary Note This piece aims to bring to the forefront the issue of sexual violence in relation to institutional policies. In giving space to this topic, MJFS hopes to foster constructive exchanges and conversations about ways to improve transparency and accountability between McGill University and its student community. The section about past sexual asssault cases at the University was written with all the resources made available to the public at the time of publication.

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Introduction

MJFS

Acts of sexual violence can be detrimental for survivors and complicated for institutions whose responsibility it is to respond. This is especially true in the context of universities, because of the prevalence of sexual violence on campuses and the degree to which it can disrupt a safe learning environment (Napolitano 2015). Students also expect universities to take responsibility for protecting them against sexual violence.

In an attempt to limit sexual violence and establish procedures for handling cases effectively, universities are mandated by the province to have policies on sexual violence (Government of Quebec 2017, s. 3).

McGill’s Policy Against Sexual Violence is explicit in its aims of “creating and sustaining a safe environment through proactive, visible, accessible and effective approaches that seek to prevent and respond to Sexual Violence” and “ensuring support for survivors” (McGill University 2019, 1).

However, upon examination, McGill’s response does not live up to these aims. While the university has set forth a comprehensive policy laying out appropriate procedures to prioritize survivors and remove structural barriers in reporting, in practice, it is inadequate on both counts. The inability to adequately redress survivors is not the fault of McGill’s policy but rather its position as an institution and its obligation to adhere to the provincial legal framework. Specifically, legal constraints which prevent McGill from divulging information about cases to its community (McGill University 2019). Unfortunately, these constraints have led McGill to prioritize its legal obligations over its responsibility to protect its community.

As a result, members of the McGill community, who were led to believe that sexual violence would be taken seriously and that McGill would institute repercussions for perpetrators, are left feeling what some feminist experts cite as institutional betrayal (Smith and Freyd 2014; Sharp, Weaver, and Zvonkovic 2017). This paper will demonstrate this concept by drawing upon a past case of alleged sexual violence at McGill, which occurred in December 2020, and highlight how McGill has failed to adhere to its policy aims to prioritize survivors’ needs, demonstrating thus that perpetrators at McGill are not held accountable. The gap between the University’s policy on sexual violence and its, at times, contradictory duty to adhere to privacy legislation underscores the underlying power dynamics – a critical element of feminist thought (Brodie, Gavigan, and Jenson 1992; hooks 2014) – which prevent sexual violence cases from being survivor-centric. As this paper will showcase, when an institutional response to sexual violence leaves survivors feeling betrayed by the institution, such as in the December 2020 case, it is inadequate in its purpose to protect and empower survivors.

Mainly because such a response indicates that the institution seems to view sexual violence as permissible.

The paper will begin by establishing a framework – derived from feminist experts on sexual violence – through which it will evaluate McGill’s policies against sexual violence. The paper will argue that, while there are some limitations, the policy generally adheres to the established feminist framework. Following this, the paper will examine a recent case of sexual violence on McGill’s campus to examine the adequacy 17.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies of the University’s response in practice.

Finally, it will conclude by discussing the provincial legal constraints around privacy, which arguably limit McGill’s ability to properly address survivors’ needs and render its response inadequate in protecting its community.

of its survivor-centric framing, considerations of intersectionality, and the policy in practice. Before evaluating the university’s policy through this feminist framework, this piece will proceed by specifying the meaning of each element.

Survivor-Centric and Feminist-based

Feminist Framework on Sexual Framing A crucial element determining Violence Policies

the adequacy of a university’s policy to respond to and prevent sexual violence is the extent to which it prioritizes and empowers survivors. Academics, non-governmental organizations, and educational institutes have referred to this as a “survivor-centric” approach. As explained by Rossiter, Porteous, and Dhillon (2020), a survivor-centric approach must consider “barriers to disclosing and reporting, recognizing individual and systemic factors that survivors often consider in deciding whether to tell anyone about what happened to them” (26).

The barriers said to deter reporting, such as feelings of shame and fear of not being believed, are often rooted in deep societal beliefs which enable rape culture. Rape culture is defined as “a culture in which dominant ideologies, media images, soIn evaluating sexual violence pol- cial practices and institutions promote or icies, feminist experts are concerned with condone, either implicitly or explicitly, the several different aspects, including acces- normalization of male sexual violence and sibility, survivor-centric framing, intersec- victim-blaming” (Buchwald, Fletcher, and tionality, and the policy’s implementation Roth 1993, 4). These power dynamics can (Richards et al. 2017; Rossiter, Porteous, be reproduced and amplified through instiand Dhillon 2020; Scott, Singh, and Harris tutions (Foucault 1991). Institutions are not 2017; Sharp et al. 2017). Drawing from a neutral, but sites where power dynamics are feminist framework, this paper will assess hashed out as they contain the multiplicity the current rendition of McGill’s Policy of social identities and definitions, reflectagainst Sexual Violence from 2019 by fo- ing society (Brodie, Gavigan, and Jensen cusing on the following elements: the extent 1992). As such, even with comprehensive policy sexual violence frameworks, univer18.

While there is significant variance within feminist thought in considering what constitutes a feminist perspective, many feminist scholars emphasize the role of structural mechanisms through which power relations and patriarchy are embedded as imperative to understanding gendered issues (Brodie, Gavigan, and Jenson 1992; hooks 2014). From this perspective, sexual violence transcends a sole encounter and is a reflection of the power relations enmeshed in broader society. Similarly, institutions can also be sites where relations of subordination are reproduced (Brodie, Gavigan, and Jenson 1992). Hence, to effectively address sexual violence, institutions must produce policies to mitigate these power dynamics and social inequities.

MJFS sities can perpetuate harmful societal power dynamics that prevent survivors from coming forward, ultimately allowing sexual violence on campus to persist. Therefore, to be effective in addressing sexual violence, university policies must aim to redress gender inequities in their application.

which deter survivors from coming forward and seeking protection from the institution.

This model only reinforces institutional distrust and perpetuates gender inequalities.

As Nichols (2011) explains, institutions employing the feminist-based model best address gender inequalities. Feminist-based advocacy focuses on the active participation of survivors in the reporting and disclosing process, and recognizes that sexual violence leaves those affected with a loss of control (Nichols 2011). As such, feminist-based responses to sexual violence endeavour aim to return this sense of control, for example, by offering various options for treating and disclosing sexual violence, which enables survivors to choose what policy redress best suits their needs (Richards et al.

2017). Thus, policies that align with feminist-based models, which situate gender dynamics and empower survivors, will be best positioned to protect and address the needs of survivors.

When examining institutional gender inequities, Richards et al. (2017) applied Nichols’ (2011) models of gendered organizations, which highlight how situating gender dynamics affect different procedures for responding to sexual violence. Per Nichols’ theory, there are three distinct ways organizations view gender: a patriarchal gender-based model, a feminist-based model, and a gender-neutral-based model. Institutions operating from a patriarchal gender-based model perpetuate gender inequality by viewing women as passive, while institutions operating from a feminist-based model see women as agents who are capable of making their own decisions (Richards et al. 2017). When adopting a gender-neu- Inclusivity and Intersectionality tral perspective, institutions initially do Since individuals from minority not seem to perpetuate gender inequality; groups experience sexual violence differhowever, by ignoring the effects gender ently, an adequate policy must also consider has on different social realities, institutions sexual violence through an intersectional are not predisposed to intervene when gen- lens to properly account for the intercondered discrimination occurs (Nichols 2011). nected nature of social categorizations as Richards (2017) argues that gender-neutral sites of oppression and violence (Crenshaw advocacy may be especially harmful to uni- 1991). For example, people of colour and versity victims of sexual violence “given non-binary and LGBTQIA+ individuals are the push for campuses to standardize their at an increased risk for sexual violence than responses” which can lend to a “lack of sen- their white, straight, cisgender counterparts sitivity to gender and power dynamics, thus (Rossiter 2020). Additionally, women of resulting in biases” (107). Consequently, a colour are also less likely to report violence policy implemented by organizations em- to campus police (Scott, Singh, and Harris ploying a gender-neutral model will not ac- 2017). As Scott, Singh, and Harris (2017) count for victim-blaming attitudes and rape explain, racist stereotypes that prevail in inmyths that are directed at gender minorities, stitutions undermine the credibility of wom19.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies en of colour in reporting sexual violence.

These factors result in women of colour experiencing more difficulty coming forward with allegations, as they are deterred by the intersecting effects of both systemic racism and sexism embedded in institutions. Thus, systemic power relations affect both the ability of women of colour to come forward and their experience in disclosing sexual violence to their institution.

For these reasons, a race-neutral approach to sexual violence policy would prove ineffective. Intersectional feminists, such as scholar Kimberle Crenshaw (1991), argue that failing to look at race as a variable and only looking at the effects of gender ignores the unique experiences of women of colour and, in turn, further marginalizes them. This is especially true for sexual violence as “the very act of sexual violence against women of colour is heavily influenced by intersecting systems of patriarchy and white supremacy” (Scott, Singh, and Harris 2017, 121). Policies are not neutral, they reflect the social definitions and identities of the institution from which they were made. Policies that do not consider race may adhere to racist stereotypes, which would impact their approach to adequately respond to people of colour experiencing sexual violence.

tent, power-conscious, community-based organizations” (Scott, Singh, and Harris 2017, 131-132). A mix of institutional and community-based organizations that cater to different social, ethnic, or racial groups helps protect and empower survivors, as cultural conceptions can limit the institution’s ability. Feminists argue that an institution’s approach needs to not only consider and understand the perspective of minority groups when dealing with sexual violence but must also empower them to come forward and lean on institutional avenues for redress.

Policy Implementation

Policy implementation is another crucial aspect of evaluating sexual violence policies. It is especially important to examine whether the institution’s response is effective in helping prevent acts of sexual violence by fostering a culture on campus in which sexual violence is taken seriously, as indicated by the institution’s reaction to occurrences of violence (Rossiter et al.

2017; Shariff, Bellehumeur, and Friesen 2020). Institutions have substantial power; if survivors feel that their university will not take their complaints seriously and not adequately support them throughout the reporting process, it is more likely that they will be deterred from coming forward with their allegations (Napolitano 2015). Should this be the case, the institution has failed in protecting survivors and has instead cultivated a culture on campus where sexual violence is permissible, as perpetrators believe they will face no consequences for committing sexual violence.

By acknowledging how an institution’s policies adhere to racist and sexist stereotypes and, in response, proactively working to centre the intersections of race and gender, among other identity factors, institutions will be better positioned to support minority groups on campuses. This may be in the form of policies that refer women of colour as “culturally compe20.

MJFS Overall, in evaluating institutional responses to sexual violence feminists emphasize survivor-centricity, inclusivity, intersectionality to be reflected in the policy’s articulation and implementation. The most effective policies situate power dynamics, are attentive to the individual survivor’s experiences, and consider racial and gendered implications of sexual violence. In both policy design and implementation, institutions must aim to be comprehensive, inclusive, and readily accessible to all.

McGill’s Sexual Violence Policy McGill’s sexual violence policy was approved by the Board of Governors in 2016 and was last reviewed in March 2019 (McGill University 2019). Its objectives are four-fold: to prevent sexual violence “through education and other systemic and proactive efforts,” to respond to reports and disclosures in an effective and timely manner, to establish and maintain a university learning and working environment where community members feel safe and respected, and to support sexual violence survivors (2). These objectives are followed up by various provisions that detail how the policy’s objectives will be achieved. When evaluating the policy through the established feminist framework, it appears that the written policy is considered sufficient in achieving these goals, though a few areas for improvement remain.

needs depend on various individual and systemic factors – such as sexual identity, race, income, student status, any past trauma, etc. – that may intersect with sexual violence, exacerbate its trauma, and affect how survivors navigate recovery through an institution (Richards et al. 2017). With the availability of fully funded and accessible campus resources that can provide support and guidance to individuals, such as the Office for Mediation and Reporting and the Office for Sexual Violence Response Support and Education (OSVRSE), the survivor is theoretically given the keys to make the best decision based on their situation. McGill’s policy also mentions redress options of varying levels, such as academic accommodations, therapy, and the official investigation process (McGill University 2019, 6-8).

McGill’s policy also claims to be trauma-informed in that its procedures are to be followed while respecting the survivor’s dignity and autonomy and with the acknowledgement that sexual violence may pose harm to their memory, decision-making abilities, and mental state (McGill University 2019, 4). Furthermore, McGill’s policy asserts that any investigations into sexual violence at the university will be headed by a Special Investigator trained in a trauma-informed approach (McGill University 2019, 4). As previously discussed, feminist experts view trauma-informed approaches as important in caring for survivors (Rossiter, Porteous, and Dhillon Survivor-Centric Framework McGill’s Sexual Violence Policy 2020). Trauma-informed responses help aims to be survivor-centric by offering an ensure survivors are not subject to retrauarray of services and accommodations to matization when disclosing and reporting best respond to the survivor’s needs. Indi- sexual assault and recognize that survivors vidual needs depend on various individual may face the “psychological, physiological, 21.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies social, and financial impacts of sexual violence” (Rossiter, Porteous, and Dhillon 2020, 22). Such an approach lessens the burden of the survivor to come forward and disclose their case.

Intersectionality

In its framing, McGill’s policy strives to account for power imbalances and rectify systemic discrimination of marginalized groups in reporting, but it is limited. The policy acknowledges that sexual An important measure of the violence may disproportionately affect miUniversity’s ability to protect survivors is nority groups “who experience intersecting whether its policy is effective in rejecting forms of systemic discrimination or barriambivalence to sexual violence and pre- ers” and advises that this disproportionate venting the perpetuation of rape culture on impact be accounted for in response to its campus (Rossiter, Porteous, and Dhillon reports and disclosures by those in charge 2020). Put simply, the university should be of the reporting process (OSVRSE and the showcasing that it will not stand for sexual Special Investigator in charge of the specific violence in any capacity by adequately re- case) (McGill University 2019, 1). Howevsponding to occurrences of sexual violence er, there are no explicit measures in place to in a decisive manner, while also creating a resolve these problems. Moreover, despite safe space for survivors to disclose such oc- minority groups being the most affected by currences. McGill recognizes this; its policy sexual violence, the policy does not address states “the University further recognizes the them as stakeholders in developing the sexsingular importance of striving toward an ual violence policy, nor does it mention equitable environment in which all mem- prioritizing marginalized applicants for the bers of the University Community are re- policy’s implementation committee. Thus, spected, safe and free from violence, espe- by acknowledging the disproportionate imcially Sexual Violence” (McGill University pact of sexual violence on minority groups 2019, 1). One way McGill seeks to achieve but failing to mandate the presence of these this is through its mandatory sexual vio- groups at decision-making tables, the polilence education and training, It Takes All of cy framework is limited in redressing social Us, offered to all incoming students, facul- inequities embedded in sexual violence proty and staff. Widely available training and cedures and empowering minority groups. education about sexual violence can be an McGill’s policy is subject to the same social important prevention mechanism for rape dynamics that allow social inequities, like culture because it promotes awareness of racial or gender stereotypes, to persist withsexual violence, discusses bystander inter- in its policy implementation which prevents vention, and inform community members survivors from feeling supported. about available campus resources (Rossiter, From the perspectives of feminist Porteous, and Dhillon 2020). However, pre- scholars, McGill’s policy framework is vention efforts are stymied if the communi- fairly comprehensive in addressing many ty feels that sexual violence is still consid- elements of concern, such as hosting a pluered permissible by the university. rality of options for reporting and disclosure and operating from a trauma-informed approach. However, it is insufficient in other 22.

MJFS areas, such as properly integrating marginalized voices in decision-making. While there is certainly room for improvement in the policy’s framing, it is important to consider other constraints, such as ones posed by the provincial legal constraints around privacy, that McGill faces in its capacity to address sexual violence.

Policy Implementation and Constraints When questioning McGill’s policy implementation and its efficacy in offering adequate redress to survivors, it is important to note certain constraints, mainly McGill’s position as a public body whose actions are constrained by the provincial government’s privacy legislation. Specifically, Quebec’s Act respecting Access to documents held by public bodies and the Protection of personal information. This Act prevents the release of confidential information and any information that will indicate a person’s identity (Government of Quebec 2021). In the context of sexual violence investigations, McGill refers to the Act, stating that this measure prevents it from disclosing information about the investigation or any disciplinary measures that follow as a result. The institution’s response to sexual violence has a profound impact on the community. If it seems like the university is doing nothing despite multiple allegations of sexual violence, students are likely to feel unsafe and unsupported, as it appears that institutional needs are prioritized over those of survivors.

Sexual violence cases pose a significant challenge to universities in how best to handle them. According to Shariff, Bellehumeur, and Friesen (2020), a balance must be struck between privacy, accountability, and transparency. In exploring the McGill context, they conclude that the legal constraints that the university faces from the province prevent it from taking serious stances against sexual violence, unfortunately resulting in community mistrust in the institution and its ability to properly combat sexual violence. The dilemma between privacy and accountability means “university policies will continue to be perceived as window dressing developed to protect the reputations of those institutions” (216). Moreover, the lack of transparency results in neither party being satisfied with the investigation and the university’s handling of the case, as privacy laws shield key information demonstrating that both parties received due process (Shariff, Bellehumeur, and Friesen 2020). Ultimately, the university is constrained in offering a meaningful avenue for sexual violence complaints to be resolved.

Overall, the provincial clause incapacitates the university’s ability to meaningfully deliver change and set a tone for the cultural change surrounding sexual violence on campus. Though an accessible, inclusive, survivor-centric policy framework is critical in approaching campus sexual violence, policies only go so far. It is the institution’s reaction to sexual violence allegations that matters most in preventing sexual violence. This phenomenon becomes clear when exploring how McGill has handled sexual violence cases in the past.

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McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies

Case Study: Sexual Violence Alle- ts disclosed that the idea of bumping into their alleged rapist was trauma-inducing gations in New Residence Hall The adequacy of McGill’s response to sexual violence and the constraints it faces in its policy implementation can be best highlighted by looking at a past case. In December 2020, allegations surfaced that a first-year student had sexually assaulted four women in McGill’s New Residence Hall (Rukavina 2020). Five students went on to produce a petition calling on McGill to take action against these allegations (Sabbath 2021). The petition garnered 50,000 signatures over three days and resulted in media coverage from both local and national outlets as students demonstrated in support of the women (Montreal Gazette 2020; Ross 2020; Rukavina 2020).

and called for McGill to act in the interim – a concept highlighted in McGill’s policy (Sabbath 2021). The policy states that immediate measures can be taken if OSVRSE, the Special Investigator, or other actors in the university believes “that there may be a risk of harm to any member of the University community” (McGill University 2019, 12). However, as McGill has yet to issue another statement, it is still unknown to the public whether McGill took any action in the interim, per the complainants’ requests.

In this case, McGill’s sexual violence policy is not being implemented as outlined.

This has led many members of the McGill community to express distrust Despite the mass outcry, the De- in the institution’s handling of sexual viocember 2020 case has largely disappeared lence (Cable 2022; Morrison 2021; Sabbath from view. The McGill administration has 2021). Psychiatrists Carly P. Smith and Jennot addressed the situation beyond a state- nifer J. Freyd (2014, 577) have explained ment and a series of tweets that stated they these feelings as “institutional betrayal”, were exploring the matter, but maintained a term that describes when an “individual that they could not legally divulge any in- experiences violations of trust and depenformation that could reveal personal con- dency perpetrated against any member of fidential information (McGill University an institution in a way that does not neces2020). As a result, many felt unsupported sarily arise from an individual’s less-privby McGill’s response (Morrison 2021; Sab- ileged identity”. By constructing a survibath 2021). Per a MTL Blog article pub- vor-centric, accessible, intersectional, and lished in June 2021, six months after the in- trauma-conscious sexual violence policy, cident, the complainants had yet to hear an survivors are led to believe that if they exupdate on the investigation, or on whether perience sexual violence, the institution the accused was facing any penalties (Sab- will protect and support them. Sharp et al. bath 2021). This goes against McGill’s pol- (2017) explain that when institutions fail icy on completing investigations in an “ef- survivors, such as by not holding a perpefective and timely” manner set out to take trator accountable for an instance of sexual place within 90 days (McGill University violence, survivors feel that they have been 2019, 9). Moreover, an area of concern for personally wronged and that the institumany, was that the student was still attend- tion has violated their trust. This sense is ing classes (Morrison 2021). The complain- only amplified by comprehensive policies 24.

MJFS which lead members of the community to believe that they are entitled to protection and safety (Sharp et al. 2017). When applied to the December 2020 sexual assault case, which only represents one instance among a multitude of reported cases (Cable 2022; Khosroshahy 2016, Milton 2018), it is evident that members of the McGill community do not feel supported by their institution. Despite McGill’s comprehensive survivor-centric policy, the community feels institutional betrayal deeply.

Conclusion

Educational institutions play an important role in creating safe spaces free from sexual violence for their students. As such, their reaction to cases of sexual violence is significant for its wider community.

Based on the feminist framework previously outlined, this paper has explored the important facets of University policies, which are: survivor-centricity, inclusivity, intersectionality, and accessibility. In evaluating McGill’s Policy Against Sexual Violence, it is clear that the University has crafted a comprehensive policy – although it is limited in including marginalized groups in decision-making. However, as demonstrated by the December 2020 case study, McGill’s response to sexual violence in the past has failed to reassure the community that it is responding adequately to occurrences of sexual violence. Nevertheless, as this paper has illustrated, the university is severely constrained by provincial legislation, which prevents it from disclosing information about cases. In this sense, feminists would argue the University’s response fails in supporting and empowering sexual violence survivors. More specifically, McGill’s

implementation of its policy is inadequate in demonstrating that sexual violence is taken seriously by the institution – the school’s silence signifies to members of the community that sexual violence remains permissible and without severe consequences.

Ultimately, sexual violence persists and is maintained by institutional inaction. The power discrepancy that is of concern to feminist scholars remains: survivors still contend with an immense burden in reporting sexual violence reinforced by a lack of accountability from the institution in punishing perpetrators.

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Morrison, Juliet. “Recovery amid the Silence about Sexual Violence at McGill.” The McGill Tribune, December 7, 2021. https://www.mcgilltribune.com/ news/recovery-amid-si lence-on-sexual-violence-at-mc gill -07122021/

Ross, Selina.“McGill says it’s looking into sex assault allegations after 50,000 sign student petition.”

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Criminology 6, no. 2 (2011): 111Rukavina, Steve.“McGill University investigat 131. https://www.researchgate. net/profile/Andrea-Nichols-3/pub lication/241647803_Gendered _Organizations_Challenges_for_ Domestic_Violence_Victim_Ad vocates_and_Feminist_ Advoca cy/links/60feef6d2b f3553b29142368/Gendered-Orga nizations-Challenges-for-Do mes tic-Violence-Victim-Advo cates-and-Feminist-Advocacy.pdf

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McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies Sabbath, Lea.. “McGill Students on Edge as Silence Surrounds Investiga tion of Accused Serial Sex Of fender.” MTL Blog, June 4, 2021. https://www.mtlblog.com/ montreal/silence-surrounds-mc gill-university-sexual-assault-in vestigation Scott, Ciera V., Anneliese A. Singh, and Jessica C. Harris. 2017. “The Intersections of Lived Oppression and Resilience.” In Intersec tions of Identity and Sexual Vio lence on Campus: Centering Mi noritized Students’ Experiences , edited by Jessica C. Harris and Chris Linder, 119139. Sterling: Stylus Publishing, LLC. https://ebookcentral. proquest.com/lib/mcgill/detail. action?docID=4801051

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Dangerous Greed:

A Global Investigation into Sexual Violence in Resource Extraction

By Erica Brown (she/her) Edited by Ishika Obeegadoo (she/her), Colette Billowits (she/her)

Content Note: this paper discusses sexual violence, including violence against Indigenous women in Canada and women of colour in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. We encourage readers to take breaks between readings, and step away if necessary. If you or someone you know is worried about your safety, or would like to talk, consider contacting the Montreal Sexual Assault Centre at +1 888-933-9007 or texting the Crisis Text Line by texting HOME to 686868.

Additionally, for on campus resources, you can call the DIAL Hotline (514-3988500) run by the Sexual Assault Center of the McGill Students’ Society.

Abstract This paper investigates the correlation between resource extraction and sexual violence, and gendered and social consequences of this condition. In exploring examples within Canada and the Democratic Republic of the Congo it is argued that through the establishment of man camps and encouragement of frontier masculinity, the global expansion of resource extraction is culpable for increased instances of sexual violence in these areas. This perspective is situated within the context of the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, exploring how the crisis, which has now been classified as a genocide, is exacerbated by remote work camps and the culture of labour. Going beyond the national scale, Brown finds a connection to a globalized phenomenon of exploitation, citing examples of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the Niger Delta region of Nigeria, and the mining towns of New

South Wales as additional examples.

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Introduction

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies

The increasing global demand for resources and consequential expansion of resource extraction projects has numerous social, economic, and environmental impacts. Situating myself as a woman working in silviculture, I was compelled to investigate the gendered social impacts, namely the correlation between resource extraction and sexual violence. Within Canada and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), the enlargement of resource extraction zones and corresponding work camps has increased instances of gender-based sexual violence toward local women. This paper examines social, global, and gendered factors contributing to violence against women in resource extraction zones.

growth of export-oriented development has been linked to increasing instances of violence against women in resource extraction areas around the world (Kuokkanen 2008, 217). Such research has conflated the global greed for environmental exploitation with that of the exploitation of women (Condes 2021, 550).

Extrapolating from my own experience working as a woman in the almost exclusively male populated remote work camps of Northern British Columbia and Alberta, I explore literature examining the culture of labour “man camps” and “frontier masculinity” (Condes 2021, 528) and the consequences of gender-based discrimination and sexual violence associated with resource extraction. Beginning with an investigation into the Highway of Tears, I draw connections between the presence of labour camps throughout the Northern regions of Canada and the growing MMIWG crisis in the nation. In further research, I begin to elucidate the influence of globalization as the root cause for the presence of such camps in remote areas. This concept identifies links to the process of colonization, both historically and contemporarily, through the development of resource extraction from Indigenous territories (Mukoyama 2020, 224). I also analyze economic globalization, the growth of global markets, neoliberalism, and the natural resource booms as a rationale for the continual establishment of extraction camps (Behrens et al. 2007, 450).

Today in Canada, the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG) has been classified as a genocide (“Final Report”, 2019). In northern communities of Alberta and British Columbia (B.C.), which are surronded by oil sands and logging blocks, Indigenous women are targets of sexual harassment, abuse, violence, and femicide (“Final Report” 2019). While investigating phenomena such as the Highway of Tears, a stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway running from Prince George to Prince Rupert in B.C. from which a disproportionate number of women disappear, I discovered a field of literature connecting the presence of resource As I uncovered links to globalizaextraction camps to a prevalence of vio- tion, it was not surprising to find that the lence towards women in Canada and abroad prevalence of violence towards women in (Kuokkanen 2008; Xiaoman et al. 2021; resource extraction areas is not an occurCondes 2021). The exploitation of natural rence unique to Canada, and has been obresources as a result of economic globaliza- served globally in resource-rich areas such tion, increasing trade liberalization, and the 32.

MJFS as in the gemstone abundant regions of the Democratic Republic of Congo, the oil-rich Niger Delta region of Nigeria, and mining towns in New South Wales, Australia (Xiaoman et al.

2021, 1038). For the purpose of this paper, I focus on the issue local to me, MMIWG and the Highway of Tears amongst oil rigs and logging camps in Canada, as well as a global example of a similar condition in the Democratic Republic of Congo. In doing so, I connect both contexts to the global market and the international economic drive for ever-increasing availability of resources and consequential expansion of extraction areas. As such, this essay investigates the prevalence of violence towards women in resource extraction areas as a consequence of globalization.

that colonialism, the violent and destructive conquering of Indigenous populations and cultures by global hegemons for economic and power gains, is rooted in the same resource curse that plagues resource-rich nations today. In other words, scholar Naosuke Mukoyama (2020) argues that colonialism is an ongoing process and has not ended at all but merely changed forms (224). The conquest is sustained today as neo-colonialism – where traditional ‘colonial’ goals are now reimagined and propelled by transnational companies and their continued exploitation of land and communities for natural resources (Mukoyama 2020, 224).

Globalization and Resource ExAs global populations surge and traction global economies prosper, annual resource The current dominant global economic system is one based on continuous growth and consequently requires an “insatiable supply” of natural resources, demanding access to the world’s remaining and diminishing natural resources, many of which are situated on Indigenous territories (Kuokkanen 2008, 218). As neoliberalism gains popularity and the interdependence of global markets promotes the establishment of a global economy, resource-rich nations draw the attention of international resource extraction companies and are pursued for economic gain (Kuokkanen, 2008, 218).

Trade liberalization has been favoured, allowing for greater ease of resource commerce and extraction projects by foreign corporations as well as the expansion of resource extraction projects and extraction camp establishments (Behrens et al. 2007, 448).

consumption of the world economy multiples as well, with observed growth from 1980 to 2002 of approximately 30 percent (Behrens et al. 2007, 445). Regions rich with natural resources can find significant economic prosperity in their reserves, drawing the attention of international extractive companies seeking to meet growing global consumption demands (Behrens et al. 2007, 446). Specifically, since the commodity price boom of the 2000s there has been a global upsurge in natural resource income and the extractive sector has swelled significantly (Behrens et al. 2007). As demand for natural resources accelerates, the business of extraction becomes lucrative and extraction projects multiply and reach further into untouched areas (Behrens et al. 2007).

Often, export-oriented development is propelled by multinational extraction corporations expanding into Indigenous territories and disrupting established communities However, this is not a new phe- (Grisafi 2020, 513). Indigenous women ofnomenon. Some literature suggests that ten bear the burden of corporate globaliza33.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies tion as the primary providers for their communities, and in the context of this paper, as the victims of sexual violence linked to resource extraction in their home territories (Carrington 2019, 410).

Gendered Power Dynamics in Resource Extraction

Many scholars have drawn connections between the global expansion of resource extraction and increasing levels of violence, yet most lack recognition of the deeper gender dynamics at play. However, scholars such as Ana Condes (2021) stress the importance of considering the gendering of power and the use of an intersectional approach when studying violence against women in extraction areas, as demonstarted in her work on oil-pipeline construction in the United States. Condes achieved this perspective by not only examining social determinants such as wealth, social class, race, and religion but also by taking into account the promotion of male violence cultivated by the phenomenon of man camps and frontier masculinity (Condes 2021, 539).

eas where residences would be otherwise absent (Condes 2021, 517). The labourers are generally transient workers and in most cases, exclusively male (Condes 2021, 517). Man camps constructed to house pipeline, logging, and mining workers have been observed to be hotbeds of domestic violence, sex trafficking, and rape (Condes 2021). Kerry Carrington sources these issues to the concept of frontier masculinity which she observes to be significantly fostered in man camps. The extractive industry is overwhelmingly masculine, not only in the historic and contemporary demographic composition of its employees, as is exemplified in the existence of man camps, but in its daily practices, assumptions, and values in these industries (Miller 2004, 59). There are numerous parallels between the power and influence of extractive industries, especially within the oil industry, as patriarchal powers propell global trajectories and economies (Behrens et al. 2007, 452). Playing out on the ground, man camps designated for resource extraction are overwhelmingly influenced by symbols related to the frontier myth: a romanticized cowboy, or male power and self-sufficiency achieved without the support or comforts of civilization (Carrington 2010, 394).

Frontier masculinity refers to the expressions of masculinity valorized in jobs that involve physical strength and stamina, as well as a man’s ability to conquer a natuCarrington believes that an ideral and raw product to turn it into a valuable alization of these male frontier symbols is good, such as mining, logging, and fracking part of the appeal that draws male labourers (Miller 2004, 49). The term ‘man camp’ is to remote man camps. As the rapid growth used to describe a temporary housing facilof the resource extraction industry extends ity or a camp of accommodations, usually projects deeper into undeveloped regions taking the form of recreational vehicles of the globe, a demand for ‘fly-in/fly-out’ and trailers, or lodges and barrack-style (FIFO), ‘drive-in/drive-out’ (DIDO) and portables (Carrington 2010, 395). The set‘bus-in/bus-out’ (BIBO) employees attracts tlements are constructed to house labourers a specific type of workforce (Carrington for resource development and extraction projects are generally located in remote ar- 2010, 395). Men who seek work in remote 34.

MJFS areas are generally observed to have fewer social responsibilities and obligations and lead a nomadic lifestyle in pursuit of great economic gain (Carrington 2010). This phenomenon supports Hirschi’s (1996) Social Bond/Social control theory, which states that in a functioning society members have formed group social bonds, and that those who are removed from larger society and the group social bond are more likely to commit crime (56). Acts of social deviance and male aggression are further encouraged by compounding toxic masculinity and capitalist production pressures to be highest performing laborer, or in other words, to be the ‘alpha male’ in camp. Sexual conquests, the use of violence, and drinking performance are all recognized ways in which masculinity can be tested and proven in remote man camps (Carrington 2010, 396). Social disorder as a consequence of geographic remoteness is amplified by one’s removal from the rest of society, entailing lower expectations with regards to common social rules. Consequently, behaviours are often linked with exorbitant alcohol consumption, and correlating violent or aggressive acts increasing with levels of geographic remoteness (Carrington 2010, 396). These jobs create an excruciating lifestyle; working a cycle of long shifts in extreme climate and physical conditions. In compensation, employees receive a high income, which is popularly spent on alcohol, gambling, or sex workers to blow off steam during their short time off (Carrington 2010, 396).

the women who are targeted (Carrington 2010, 98). Male labourers’ pursuit of potential sexual conquests is intensified by their isolation from women while living in work camps and consequential feelings of sexual deprivation (Carrington 2010).1 Victims of assault by man camp labourers are often without support from governments, who are willing to turn a blind eye to violence in extraction zones so as not to interfere with large-scale corporate operations and the economic incentives they stand to gain (Carrington 2010) .

To encapsulate the nonconsensual conflation of Indigenous women and the resources of their native lands, I propose the term ‘Pochahontas femininity’. If frontier masculinity is the term often associated with men working in extraction zones, then perhaps pocahontas femininity is the role women are forced into. Pressured to be sexually available and viewed as conquests linked to the conquering of natural resources, women who inhabit resource-rich areas are conflated with the assets of their home territories. As such, these women are not viewed as individuals, but as resources themselves. Resource-rich areas see a great influx of young male labourers, creating a disproportionate sex ratio that is amplified by the competition encouraged by frontier masculinity (Carrington 2019, 410).

As established earlier, frontier masculinity encourages competition among men for an interaction with a woman, generally one of a sexual nature. As a result, women in extraction camps become vulnerable to male acts of violence and aggression produced by man camps. This is compounded by lo-

This behaviour is further encouraged by the compounding male aggression of ‘frontier masculinity’, the notion that non-resident worker status affords greater 1This assumes heterosexuality of male workers which is not correct, though it is the norm for studies in the legal protections, and the vulnerability of nessecarily field.

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McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies cal women’s geographic proximity to men who put great value on sex yet have been isolated from women for extended periods of time, often increasing the risk of sexual violence (Carrington 2019, 410).

This phenomenon thus reinforces the narrative that resource extraction necessarily involves sexual violence. Nevertheless, the rape-resource narrative oversimplifies a deeply complex issue that is affected by colonial legacies, social perceptions of the value of women, and attitudes of entitlement to the earth’s resources. It is important to acknowledge that while resource extraction zones also observe an increase in crimes of non-sexual nature, Indigenous women local to resource extraction camps experience a cruel intersection of misogynistic, racial, and class-based subjugation (“Final Report” 2019). These facets of discrimination form a matrix in which frontier masculinity is especially violent towards women. Of course, race and class-based oppression also place other burdens on the local communities, male and female. However, an investigation into the full scope of the interaction between male labourers and their victims of sexual violence considering the interactions of race, class, and the colonial legacies that continue to fuel resource extraction expansion and its consequences, is beyond the scope of this paper.

Sexual Violence

The International Monetary Fund’s 2009 guidance volume on gender and the extractive industries states that “men have most access to the benefits, which consist primarily of employment and income, while women and the families they care for are

more vulnerable to the risks created by Extractive Industries, which consist of mostly harmful social and environmental impacts” (Razack 2016, i). It is important to note that although sex work is common-place in resource extraction areas and male work camps, and can be an incredibly lucrative career for women, sex work does not equate to sexual violence, nor is sexual violence a direct consequence of choosing to work in the sex industry (Razack 2016). However, sex workers are at an increased risk of sexual violence widely due to the lack of protection by the state. Specifically in the context of Canada and the DRC, there is a great overlap between sex work and instances of sexual violence in resource extraction areas (Razack 2016).

Sexual Violence Against Indigenous Women in Canada

In Canada, many MMIWG cases are attributed to the “high-risk lifestyle” these women lead – usually a reference to Indigenous women’s over-represenation in sex work. In her chapter Being an Indigenous Woman is a “High Risk Lifestyle” (2017), Mary Elberts examines how the attribution of Indigenous women’s death to their “high risk lifestyle” contributes to the cultural view of Indigenous women as unimportant, disposable, and responsible for their own deaths. Elberts (2017) argues that the complicated and arbitrary regulations of The Indian Act in Canada have resulted in generations of women being forced out of the protection in their reserves and families, and into vulnerable situations and high risk circumstances. This created a separation between Indigenous women and settler Canadians, dehumanizing the former (El-

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MJFS berts 2017). The separation is amplified by the oversexualized stereotypes applied to Indigenous women through the conflation of “high-risk lifestyles” and sex work, often imposed by police organizations working under government policy (Elberts 2017).

Descriptions of Indigenous women who are victims of sexual violence or murder often feature stereotypes of rampant sexuality such as “easy squaw”21 (Acoose 1995), or “objects of no human value beyond sexual gratification” (Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba 1991). Such characterization is a direct reflection of the social perceptions of Indigenous women upon which The Indian Act’s treatment of these women is based (Elberts 2017, 93).

method to obtain desired goods and women are regarded as having approximately as much agency as the land on which they live (Kuokannen 2008, 221). This cultural disregard towards Indigenous women in Canada, combined with the self-perception of non-culpability held by men in remote labour camps, puts Indigenous women in remote resource extraction areas of Canada at a heightened risk of being victims of sexual violence (Carrington 2019, 410).

Reclaiming Power and Place; The Final Report of the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (2019) found a direct link between work camps for extraction projects such as fracking man camps or logging camps in There are parallels between the Northern B.C. and Alberta, and the increase sexual objectification of Indigenous women of gender-based violence against Indiegand the view that the western world offered nous women in local communities. Wet’suthe potential of great wealth to those who wet’en land defenders have identified the oil were able to conquer it (Behrens et al. 2007, extraction company, Coastal GasLink and 441). It is this conception that brought Brit- their establishment of work camps along the ish and French colonization efforts to Cana- infamous Highway of Tears, as responsible da in the first place. Some scholars have also for the disappearances of women from that drawn connections from resource boom and stretch of highway (Giachino 2021, 6). A extraction expansion to neo-colonialism study conducted by the University of Coland development that exploits natural areas orado Boulder reported that booming popfor their resources with little to no regard ulations of transient oil workers to oil-profor negative impacts to the area, such as ducing regions in North America correlated environmental degradation or social disrup- with an increase in the rate of violent crime tion (Razack 2016, i; Behrens et al. 2007, and reported sexual assaults in the area by 444). In the context of resource extraction 70 per cent from 2006 to 2012 (Martin et al. man camps, there exists an extension of 2019). While most victims of femicides in the mindset that physical strength is the Canada are classified as intimate or perpetrated by a male partner, Indigenous wom2 The word “squaw” has a controversial history and is en in Canada are more often killed by male recognized to be offensive, racist, and mysoginistic. The term is embedded within derogatory terms directed at Indignestrangers, as is believed to have occurred in ous women, such as “vagina, prostitute, harlot, and similar the majority of the cases linked to the Highwords” (Coward 2014, 77). I use the term here with caution, in and attempt to draw attention to the dehumanization and way of Tears (Martin et al. 2019). Just as the violence Indigneous women face which are embedded in this Northwest is culturally romanticized to be a term.

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McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies wildland conquerable only by those who are strong enough to force its riches from their raw form, the Indigenous woman becomes conflated with her homeland and is viewed as the “squaw” who, with the right man, has the potential to fulfill the Pocahontas Indian Princess archetype, the Tiger Lily31waiting to be tamed by the frontier man. As Andrea Smith argues, sexual violence is a tool of patriarchy, colonialism, and racism by which Indigenous women become marked as “inherently rapable” (Kuokkanen 2008, 221).

Africa for the exploitation of their natural resources. As Human Rights Watch stated in 2001, “there is a direct link between human rights abuses and the exploitation of resources in areas in the DRC” (Rustad 2019, 483). The eastern DRC in particular is often referred to as the “rape capital of the world” and violence in the area is often attributed to “conflict minerals” that attract international mining companies with a process of extraction that inspires armed conflict (Rustad 2019, 483).

In her text Artisanal mining, conflict, and sexual violence in Eastern DRC Sexual Violence and Resource Ex(2019), Siri Aas Rustad cites two main tratraction in the Democratic Republic of jectories through which mining in the DRC Congo is linked to increased instances of sexual A similar climate of sexual vioviolence towards local women. First, Ruslence against women has been observed tad observed sexual violence to be a tool in mining communities in the Democratic used strategically by armed actors to instil Republic of Congo (Laudati 2019, 57). Atfear as a method of coercive control, forctention from media, donors, and advocacy ing Indigenous populations in resource-rich groups have tied the increasing instances of rapes of Congolese women to the metaphor- areas to obtain and maintain access to reic raping of the land for its natural resources sources and control of mines. The second (Laudati 2019, 59). Akin to the situation in attribute of increased sexual violence RusCanada, Congolese women are generally tad (2019) states, is the hyper-masculinity more likely to be victims of sexual violence or frontier masculinity present in mining perpetrated by their intimate partners, but camps, cultivating a culture that puts local instances of non-partner sexual violence women at greater risk of sexual violence. are increasing in populations of women Natural resources can be cited as a cause living in close proximity to artisanal and of violence in the DRC and are an importsmall-scale mining (Rustad 2019, 478). The ant cause of international intervention and Democratic Republic of Congo has been a financing of armed conflicts. This contribvolatile nation for decades, with its most re- utes to the problem of opportunistic sexucent conflict, sometimes referred to as “Af- al violence by soldiers, who are provoked rica’s World War”, driven by neocolonialist by the overwhelming influence of greed in greed (Laudati 2019, 57). Western mining these projects and the desire to control the hegemons continue to expand into parts of ‘honey-pot’ of natural resources (Rustad 2019, 479). In resource-rich areas, rape is 3 Indigenous styled princess in Disney’s Peter Pan who is rude and standoffish which does not dissuade Peter’s advanca tactic strategically used to push people off es, but instead instills greater desire until she is forcibly tied their territories, which then allows foreign to a pole and eventually kissed by him.

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MJFS corporations to gain free access to these areas (Rustad 2019). Such population displacement contributes to the general sense of lawlessness and mirrors the “wild west” mindset observed in Canada, inspiring male extraction labourers to conduct themselves in a socially discursive manner (Rustad 2019, 481). For example, perpetrators of rape within the extractive resource industry have harmfully sought to justify their sexual violence as a result of the hard conditions and high stresses that their livelihoods depend upon (Rustad 2019, 478).

The presence and influence of frontier masculinity also play a large role in the prevalence of sexual violence in extraction zones of the DRC. Mining cultures exist in remote areas in isolation from the larger society and thus form fringe cultures of male youth who seek validation of self and personal manlihood (Carrington 2019, 408). As in Canada, sex work in extraction zones is a lucrative business for local women, however, women involved in the sex work industry are at an amplified risk of rape and other forms of sexual violence (Rustad 2016, 478).

Conclusion

ral reasons for violence against women. In Canada, the crisis of MMIWG is not solely linked to resource extraction, with Indigenous women suffering abuse in urban and rural areas alike. The discourse surrounding neocolonialism is also interesting in connection to MMIWG; in a country built on colonialism and existing under colonial institutions, I wonder if it is at all possible to separate one issue from the other. In the context of Land Back, a movement based on Indigenous land restitution and the return of decision-making control to Indigenous peoples, I am motivated to investigate further connections between Indigenous sovereignty and the safety of Indigenous women. In examining the case of the DRC, I wonder if all expansion of international corporations in the Global South amounts to neocolonialism, and if so, has contemporary globalization improved since the first acts of colonization of the Global South by the Global North? Further research could investigate the concept of exporting violence against women or ask whether the development of extraction projects by international corporations simply exports economic or social conditions that have the potential to lead to increased violence against women.

Moving forward, I wonder how we as a culture can move away from the rape resource narrative and the conflation of women’s bodies and the physical landscape.

Colonization and the patriarchy are deeply intertwined and are still overwhelming forces in our society. At the theoretical end of this study I am reminded of a quote by feminist scholar Marilyn Waring, “it is no accident that our much loved and much pillaged and much raped planet is often called Mother Earth” (Waring 1999, 9). With the 39.

Through the establishment of man camps and fostering of frontier masculinity, the global expansion of resource extraction proves to be culpable for increased instances of sexual violence against Indigenous women in resource extraction areas. Sexual violence in resource extraction areas is deeply complicated and driven by the overlapping of colonialism, globalization, race, and gender oppression; there is much more to be investigated on the social and cultur-

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies global demand for natural resources showing no signs of lessening, we require a cultural shift from violent extraction practices in order to ensure the protection of women with a particular emphasis on resource-rich areas.

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Toronto:Women’s Press, 1995.

Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manitoba (AJI). Report: “The Justice System and Aboriginal People” Province of Manitoba, Vol.1: 1991. http://www.ajic.mb.ca/volu mel/toc.html.

Aboriginal Justice Inquiry of Manito ba (AJI). Report: “The Deaths of Helen Betty Osborner and John Joseph Harper.” Province of Manitoba, Vol. 2: 1991. http:// www.ajic.mb.ca/volumell/toc. html.

Arno Behrens, Stefan Giljum, Jan Kovan da, Samuel Niza, “The Material Basis of the Global Economy: Worldwide Patterns of Natural Resource Extraction and their Implications for Sustainable Re source use Policies.” Ecological Economics, 64(2), 2007. 444-453.

Carrington, Kerry. “Frontier Masculinities and Violence: Booze, Blokes and Brawls.” The British Journal of Criminology, 50(3). 2010.

393–413.

Condes, Ana. “Man Camps and Bad Men: Litigating Violence Against Amer ican Indian Women”, 116 Nw. U. L. Rev. 515, 2021. https://schol arlycommons.law.northwestern. edu/nulr/vol116/iss2/4 Coward, John M.”The Princess and the Squaw: The Construction of Native American Women. The Pictorial Press, American Journal ism, 31:1, 2014. 71-99.

Elberts, Mary. “Being an Indigenous Wom an Is a ‘High Risk Lifestyle.’”

Making Space for Indigenous Feminism, edited by Joyce Audry Green, Fernwood Publishing, 2017. 93–94.

Giachino, Alyssia. (rep.). KKR Energy In vestments Troubled by the Racial Injustice and Financial Losses - A history of fossil fuel investments has exposed investors to risks.

Kolhberg Kravis Roberts, 2021.

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Grisafi, Lily. Living in the Blast Zone: Sexual violence Piped into Native Land by Extractive industries.

Columbia Journal of Law and Social Problems, 4, 2020.

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Key Ideas in Criminology and Criminal Justice. Berkeley: Uni versity of California Press, 1996.

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Canada. Web Archive. Retrieved from the Library of Con gress, <www.loc.gov/item/ lcwaN028038/>, 2019.

Laudati, Ann., & Mertens, C. Resources and Rape: Congo’s (toxic) Dis cursive Complex. African Studies Review, 62(4), 57-82.

Siri Aas Rustad, Gudrun Østby, Ragnhild Nordås, Artisanal mining, con flict, and sexual violence in East ern DRC, The Extractive Indus tries and Society, 3(2), ISSN 2214-790X. 2016. 475-484.

Martin, Kimberly et al., Violent Victim ization Known to Law Enforce ment in the Bakken Oil-Produc ing Region of Montana and North Dakota, 2006 – 2012, Natl. Crime Stats. Exchange, 2019.

Waring, Marilyn. Counting for Nothing: What Men Value and What Wom en are Worth. University of To ronto Press, 1999.

Miller, Gloria. E. Frontier Masculinity in the Oil Industry: The Experience of Women Engineers. Gender, Work and Organization, 11(1), 2004. 47–73.

Mukoyama, Naosuke . Colonial origins of the resource curse: endogenous sovereignty and authoritarianism in Brunei, Democratization, 27(2), 2020. 224-242, Kuokkanen, Rauna. Globalization as Ra cialized, Sexualized Violence, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 10:2, 2008. 216-233.

Xiaoman, W., Majeed, A., Vasbieva, D. G., Yameogo, C. E., & Hussain, N. Natural Resources Abundance, economic globalization, and car bon emissions: Advancing Sus tainable Development Agenda.

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Canadian Journal of Women and the Law, 28(2), 2016. i-iv.

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MJFS

Caught Between Two Spheres:

Disabled Women’s Labour Under Capitalism

By Molly Mckenzie (they/them) Edited by Alessandra C. Marrè (any pronouns), Morgan Geyer (she/her)

Content note: this piece explores the experiences of disabled people under capitalism, and as such, addresses stereotypes and experiences that have often been used to harm disabled groups and individuals.

Abstract Exploring how mainstream critiques of capitalism have neglected the experiences of disabled women, this piece rejects the neoliberal feminist perspective that focusses on women’s participation in all spheres of labour. In identifying the difference between the social and medical models of disability, this piece identifies how the social construction of disability limits the ability for disabled women in particular to participate in both the private and public sphere. As such, this paper devolves into an analysis that seeks to argue that mainstream criticisms of sexism do not account for the intersection of gender, capitalism, and disability. Therefore, in order to examine the full extent to which capitalism impacts the gendered division of labour, the challenges faced by disabled women need to be brought to the centre of this discussion.

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Introduction

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies

Marxist-feminist critique of capitalism inherently rejects the subjugation of women, and the corresponding dominance of men, within the gendered division of labour. However, these criticisms have historically neglected the exploration of a population inherently marginalized by capitalist structures and goals: disabled people.1 Under capitalism, the positioning of men and women within the dichotomy of private versus public spheres is intersectionally compounded by disability. The inclusion of disabled people is essential to problematize the oppressive nature of capitalism and the gendered division of labour to their full extent. In order to establish disabled women’s subordination under capitalism, this paper will delve into the gendered division of labor under capitalism, the social construction of the normative body, the weaponization of toxic masculinity by disabled men, and the devaluation of disabled women in the home.

The Gendered Division of Labour Under Capitalism Before establishing the need to focus on the experiences of disabled women within the capitalist system, the very meaning of the gendered division of labor under capitalism must be explored. Capitalism, as the foundational framework for this paradigm, structures modern

Western society and places value on individuals solely in terms of their productivity and bodily potential for commodification.

This structure promotes “a rigorous set of standards concerning physical characteristics” (Hahn 1987, 555), such as never-ending energy, speed and efficiency, exceptional productivity, independence and needing very little in order to work (i.e., never “complaining”), and working full-time at full-force (i.e., according to able-bodied and neurotypical standards of “full-force”). Furthermore, neoliberalism’s expansion has exacerbated this paradigm.

As a political approach that “calls for the deregulation and privatization of public systems and the dismantling of trade and tax barriers... to maximize the global mobility of capital”, neoliberalism reduces civil and labour protections, fosters hyper-individualism, and “builds a socio-political universe of infinite and endless commercial transactions” (Means 2008, 73-74). This has contributed to capitalism’s increasing tendency to “render and govern lives in purely economic terms,” and subsequently constructing certain bodies as more valuable than others (Fritsch 2017, 255). As certain disabled women are seen as unable to meet expectations, in both the productive and reproductive sectors of labour, they are seen as serving no purpose to the maintenance of capitalism and thus as societal burdens.

The private sphere, also known as the domestic sphere or reproductive labour, 1. Here I have chosen to use identity-first language (i.e., “disabled people”) rather than person-first language (i.e., “people is fixed within the home and consists of with disabilities”). I chose to do so because identity-first cooking, cleaning, caregiving, and homelanguage is currently the most widely used approach among disability communities, as it arose out of the Disability Pride making. The private sphere is traditionally movement and highlights membership within a wider cultural feminized, and dominant ideologies of the group of disability (Perry 2021). However, it is important to note that there is no language that is universally preferred by gendered division of labour relegate women those belonging to disability communities and individuals to it (Duffy 2007, 315). The public sphere, may have differing preferences.

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MJFS also known as waged labour or productive labour, is situated within the capitalist workforce, and is masculinized; men are seen as fulfilling the role of the ideal worker (Collins 1993, 191). Though this division is currently not quite as stark as it was in the 1950s and 1960s, it is still a dominant ideology in Western society and many characteristics of this division remain in gendered forms of labour (Coltrane 2010, 798).

nates in performing domestic tasks. This gendered division of labour, burdened housewives of the 1950s and 1960s who experienced widespread and profound unhappiness as a result of these standards, framing women’s lives as meaningless and trivial (Friedan 2017, 29-444). This fixation on women in the domestic sphere served the purpose of filling a role in which women take care of this “unfavourable” stratum of life for men to be able to confine their own efforts to the sphere of waged labour, seen as favourable under capitalism due to its need to continually produce waged workers to be maintained (Mainardi 1970, 3).

The feminist wave of the 1960s and 1970s fought to disrupt these hierarchical gender roles by creating space for women in the public sphere of labour in addition to their existing role in the private sphere, leading to an increase of women in the waged labour workforce (Friedan 2017, 668). However, the ideologies that keep women relegated to the domestic sphere remain influential; women’s acceptance into the public sphere resulted in the phenomenon of the “Second Shift”, in which women are now expected to be both productive members of public society while simultaneously maintaining their role as perfect caregivers and homemakers in the private sphere - resulting in women taking on the double shifts of productive and reproductive labour (Hochschild 2012, 11).

The neoliberal feminist discourse regarding the relegation of women to the domestic sphere frame women’s reproductive labour as inexhaustible, working full-time at full force, independent of their husbands (with the exception of financial independence), and serving as caregivers to both their children and husbands. Both Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In and Anne-Marie Slaughter’s “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All” exemplify these neoliberal feminist ideologies in how they “mobilize... to spawn... a new feminist subject” who “accepts full responsibility for her own well-being and self-care, which is increasingly predicated on crafting a felicitous work-family balance based on a cost-benefit calculus” (Rottenberg 2014, 418). Within this discourse, domestic labour has been imposed upon women and constructed as a natural attribute of womanhood and femininity (Federici 1975, 76-77). Due to this structure, “mothers in modern Western societies continue to be... idealized as ‘natural’ and limitless caregivers for their children”, The Social Construction of the and the failure to meet this standard results Normative Body in blaming mothers for perceived shortTo fully analyze the body as a site comings in this role (Fritsch 2017, 246). of political oppression and resistance, disCoined by Betty Friedan, the “Feminine ability must be understood as socially conMystique” refers to the societal assumption structed. Disability is created by uplifting that women’s source of fulfillment origi45.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies g a normative body, projecting sanctimony on it, and punishing all deviance from the ideal. This is a structure similar to the ancient patriarchal representation of women as failed men. “Aristotle says that... a female is an incomplete male or ‘as it were, a deformity’: ... that in general ‘a woman is perhaps an inferior being’ ” (Freeland 1994, 145–146). According to the social model of disability, the functional limitations of an individual are not the original cause of inequality within society, “we were not disabled by our impairments but by the disabling barriers we faced in society” (Oliver 2013, 1025). Rather, societal structures significantly shape and organize individuals’ ability to productively participate in society which results in inequalities under the capitalist model. The social model of disability dictates that disabilities are not inherent flaws; rather, disability is produced by privileging some bodies and abilities over others. Consequently, social structures come to normatively define and differentiate normal from abnormal bodies (UPIAS 1975, 4).

Disabled people are not only framed as an exception; rather, they come to be seen as deviant to broader society.

excludes disabled women and does not take into account their position at the intersection of the axes of oppression of gender and disability. It is important to note that this discourse predominantly centers on white, Western heterosexual, educated, middleand upper-class women, women whose bodies are presented as the normative ideal that disabled bodies fail to reach. Stereotypes regarding disabled women often portray them as “‘childlike’, ‘needy’, ‘vulnerable’, ‘passive’, ‘dependent’, and ‘in need of care’” (Bê 2020, 422-423). Stereotypes like this not only falsely frame disabled women as unable to fulfill caregiver roles but also disregards their ability to be independent in caring for themselves. Thus, the aforementioned stereotypes of disabled women prevent them from being seen as capable of existing in the same category as able-bodied and neurotypical21women in the domestic sphere. As a result, in addition to not being afforded equal participation in the productive or waged labour workforce as women, they are also not granted equal participation in the reproductive or domestic labour workforce as disabled people. In this sense, disabled women are excluded from both the private and public spheres of labour due to their position at this intersection as both women and disabled, essentially positioned as unable to contribute to society in any capacity.

The medical model, by contrast, individualizes disability and seeks to either “cure” it or make it disappear. Against the normative body, they are represented as aberrant and unproductive: forced to assimilate or disappear from the public view. For instance, blindness is seen as a spectrum; while those who are prescribed glasses or contact lenses receive disability accommodation without being perceived as dis- 2. “Neurotypical” is defined as the state of being “neurologabled people, those who require aid such as ically typical”, or within the range of statistically average human neurology. This term originates within the autistic braille, text-to-speech, and guides are heav- community and is commonly used to refer to non-autistic ily stigmatized. This mainstream discourse individuals (Disabled World).

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The Weaponization of Toxic Mas- tenance of one’s masculinity when it feels threatened, born out of “socially regressive culinity by Disabled Men Disabled men face barriers in the labour market, but in different terms than disabled women due to their differing positions at the intersection of gender and disability. The public sphere of waged labour is masculinized, and thus demands certain characteristics of idealized masculinity in its workers. These include strength, competence, independence, and the practical use of logic over emotion (Acker 2004, 29). The capitalist attributes of the ideal worker – which include speed, efficiency, and exceptional productivity – are considered essential to thrive in the productive labor sector.

However, they come in direct opposition to the stereotypes surrounding disabilit. As explained by Sterling (2017), masculinity is viewed in opposition to disability: “binary claims... attach to traditional, and often essentialist, understandings of disabled men as the opposite of able-bodied men... weak, vulnerable, dependent, and even feminine” (3). In light of this, the role that men are traditionally expected to fulfill as breadwinners within the gendered division of labour is not welcoming to disabled men, as, according to ableist stereotypes, they are not considered to be capable of fulfilling these masculine and capitalist expectations. Thus, the combined capitalist structure and the traditionally masculine nature of the public sphere work to simultaneously exclude disabled people and women.

male traits that serve to foster domination, the devaluation of women, homophobia, and... [physical and epistemic] violence” (Kupers 2005, 714). The western culture expects and demands that disabled men look and behave according to traditional standards of masculinity to “disavow the appearance of weakness, vulnerability, or dependence” that is traditionally associated with femininity and simultaneously attributed to disability (Sterlin 2017, 5).

However, in asserting their masculinity under this pressure, disabled men may allow themselves to become complicit in hegemonic presumptions of heteronormative masculinity, for challenging these criteria could result in their loss of what traditional notions of masculinity accord to them “as their biological birthright: the presumptive authority of male power” (Sterlin 2017, 6). Thus, although stereotypes of disability disadvantage disabled men in the sphere of waged labour, their positioning as men and the desire to maintain this patriarchal positioning subsequently reify male dominance within the gendered division of labour, weaponizing their masculinity to reject stereotypes of disability. As a result, this further harms disabled women, who can be, as demonstrated above, excluded from both spheres of labour entirely due to their positioning at the intersection of disability and gender.

Although stereotypes of disability Devaluation of Disabled Women often connote femininity in disabled men, in the Home this does not welcome them into the femiThe individualist rhetoric of neonized sector of reproductive labour, as these liberal feminism discriminates against disindividuals are not exempt from notions of abled women, furthering their invisibility “toxic masculinity” – the attempted main47.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies to establish abled women’s autonomy. The are excluded from both the private and pubmarginalization of the reproductive sphere lic spheres, as set by capitalism, results in under capitalism has historically been ex- the need for disabled women to work twice ecuted through the positioning of women as hard to be seen as capable of doing either as less-abled men. Bio-essentialist theories type of labour, while able-bodied and neuabout the inherent inferiority of women’s rotypical women only have to work hard to bodies and minds provided the basis for be seen as capable of working in the protheir exclusion and subjugation, concluding ductive or waged labour force as they face that “female development had been arrested no stereotypes undermining their domestic at a lower stage of evolution” and thus “[w] capabilities. Furthermore, as women generomen... could be placed on the evolution- ally are expected to the perfect homemakary ladder along with children, apes, and ers due to housework being naturalized as ‘primitive’ people” (Bergman 2002, 382). inherent to womanhood, there is already In reaction, neoliberal feminists hyper-em- pressure on women generally to excel in phasized the ability of women to participate this labour; disabled women thus face both in all spheres of labor, calling to mind the a) the stereotypes of being unfit caregivers resurgence in popularity of Rosie the Rivet- as disabled people, and b) the pressures of er in 1980s pop feminism, a fictional figure fulfilling expectations of this naturalized who was the face of a campaign to recruit homemaker role as women, which are inacwomen workers for labour in defense in- cessible for many disabled people. dustries during World War II (“Rosie the Riveter”, 2010). However, this “defense of Conclusion woman” relied on the same ableist norms Mainstream criticisms of sexism constructed by capitalism. As a facet of the do not account for the intersection of gendomestic sphere, a closer analysis of moth- der, capitalism, and disability, which, as I erhood reveals further limitations set by have demonstrated, is integral to investigate capitalism and misogyny for disabled wom- for capitalist patriarchy to be problematized en in this realm. The normative relationship to its full extent. Although beyond the scope between womanhood and motherhood is a of this paper, further research must be done “tightrope upon which to balance depen- exploring how colonial exploitation of the dency [on men] and nurturance [to chil- Global South, which is centred around capidren]”; for disabled women, this balancing talism, exposes underpaid workers to a highact can be especially difficult to navigate as er risk of becoming disabled while carrying disabled mothers are more frequently mate- our precarious jobs in the public sphere of rially and socially dependent on others than labour. Therefore, feminist discourses on are able-bodied and neurotypical mothers. domesticity and labour must consider how As a result, disabled mothers can often “feel disability, class, sexuality, and race opprespressure to demonstrate that they are ‘good sions fundamentally construct capitalism’s enough mother’” despite their disabilities, a inherent sexism, refusing to continue cenpressure far beyond the expectations placed tring white, abled, heterosexual, educated, on able-bodied mothers (Fritsch 2017, 245– middle- and upper-class women.

247). In light of this, the idea that women 48.

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References

Acker, Joan. Gender, capitalism and glo balization. Critical sociology, 30(1), 2004. 17-41.

Duffy, Mignon., “Doing the dirty work: Gender, race, and reproductive la bor in historical perspective.”

Gender & Society, 21(3), 2007.

313-336.

Federici, Silvia. Wages against housework.

Bristol: Falling Wall Press. 1975.

Bailey, Moya, and Izetta Autumn Mobley.

“Work in the Intersections: A Black Feminist Disability Frame work.” Gender & Society, 33(1), 2019. 19–40., Bar On, Bat-Ami. Engendering Origins : Critical Feminist Readings in Plato and Aristotle. Suny Series, Femi nist Philosophy. Albany: State Uni versity of New York Press, 1994.

Bê, Ana. “Feminism and disability. A car tography of multiplicity” in Wat son, N. (Ed.), Vehmas, S. (Ed.).

Routledge Handbook of Disability Studies. London: Routledge. 2020

Fritsch, Kelly. “Contesting the Neoliber al Affects of Disabled Parenting: Toward a Relational Emergence of Disability.” In Disabling Domes ticity, edited by Michael Rembis, New York: Palgrave Macmillan US. 2017, 243-67.

Hahn, Harlan. “Advertising the Acceptably Employable Image: Disability and Capitalism.” Policy Studies Jour nal, 15 (3). 1987.

Bergman, Gerald.The history of the human female inferiority ideas in evolu tionary biology. Rivista di biolo gia, 95(3), 2002. 379-412.

Collins, Randall., Chafetz, Janet.Saltzman., Blumberg, Rea Lesser., Coltrane, Scott. and Turner, Jonathan H., 1993. “Toward an integrated the ory of gender stratification.” So ciological Perspectives, 36(3), 1993. 185-216.

Coltrane, Scott.Gender theory and house hold labor. Sex Roles, 63(11), 2010. 791-800.

Friedan, Betty. The feminine mystique.

WW Norton & Company. 2010.

Hochschild, Arlie, and Anne Machung. The second shift: Working families and the revolution at home. Pen guin. 2012.

Kupers, T.A.“Toxic masculinity as a bar rier to mental health treatment in prison.” Journal of clinical psy chology, 61(6), 2005, 713-724.

Mainardi, Pat. The politics of housework.

New England Free Press. 1970.

49.

McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies Means, Alex. “Neoliberalism and the poli tics of disposability: Education, urbanization, and displacement in the new Chicago.” Journal for Critical Education Policy Studies, 6(1).

Oliver, Mike. “The Social Model of Dis ability: Thirty Years On.” Disabili ty Society, 28(7) 2013. 1024–26.

Perry, Ray. “Person-First vs. Identity-First Language.” AcessATE. https:// accessate.net/features/2519/per son-first-vs-identity-first-lan guage. 2021.

Sterlin, David. “Introduction.” Phallacies: Historical Intersections of Disabil ity and Masculinity. Edited by Kathleen M. Brian and James W.Trent. Oxford University Press.2017.

Rottenberg, Catherine. The rise of neoliber al feminism. Cultural studies, 28(3), 2014. 418-437.

“Rosie the Riveter.” HISTORY, https:// www.history.com/topics/worldwar-ii/rosie-the-riveter.

2010.

“What Is: Neurodiversity, Neurodivergent, Neurotypical.” Disabled World. https://www.disabled-world.com/ disability/awareness/neurodiversi ty/. 2022.

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An Act of Resistance:

The Experience of Lesbian Gender as an Anomaly

By Jessana Akehurst Edited by Rahema Imitiaz (she/her), Juliet Morrison (she/her)

Abstract This piece explores the unique experiences and phenomenology of lesbianism and its intersections with gender expression.

Drawing from, as well as critiquing Adrienne Rich’s 1980 essay “Compulsory Heterosexuality and the Lesbian Experience”, this paper explores how lesbianism itself subverts the gender binaries imposed by structures of heteropatriarchy.

In exploring how lesbian gender is essentially ephemeral in nature, Akehurst outlines how this experience possesses a sort of liminality - a fluid and ambiguous “in between” space.

Therefore, it is argued that lesbian gender is not characterized through one direct answer, but rather an ephemeral personal feeling.

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McGill’s Undergraduate Journal of Feminist Studies Introduction Due to their separation from heterosexuality, lesbians often feel a disconnect to womanhood and have a unique experience with gender. Adrienne Rich’s Compulsory Heterosexuality and the Lesbian Experience (1980) is one of the foundational academic papers written on lesbians and “the lesbian experience”. In this text, Rich discusses the ways in which heterosexuality acts as a political institution engaging in the oppression of women and lesbians, and imposes heterosexuality onto them without an option to disengage. However, lesbianism inherently subverts the construction of heterosexuality and threatens it as an institution. By refusing the claim heterosexuality imposed on women and those assigned female at birth, lesbianism denies the cisheteronormative standard women are expected to live up to.

In addition, the role that liminality, the fluid and ambiguous “in-between” space, plays in the lesbian gender experience creates a separate space for fluidity in identity, one that is often more visible when it follows a disconnect from the imposed gender expectations. This concept of liminality will aid in examining the gender experience of lesbians, who often exist in this space, and experience gender and life through the lens of a woman and as a separate gender. This particular experience of lesbian gender is therefore characterized through the ephemerality of gender, where its understanding has no single answer or experience, but is rather understood as: a personal feeling, the phenomenology of the lesbian orientation, and an attempt to exist in female spaces.

Heterosexuality as an Institution Compulsory heterosexuality, now a well-known term within queer spheres, was popularized by Adrienne Rich in 1980.

Her essay detailed “the lesbian existence”, the idea of the “lesbian continuum”, and the oppressive institution of heterosexuality (Rich 1980). The concept of compulsory heterosexuality defines heterosexuality as a man-made institution that works to erase lesbian possibility, instead assuming heterosexuality to be the norm (Rich 1980).

As an institution, heterosexuality is all-encompassing; it is in our everyday actions, the actions of those around us, and is simultaneously imposed on us by the state. Judith Butler (1993), a foundational gender theorist, highlights this by stating that “heterosexuality is always in the process of imitating and approximating its own phantasmic idealization of itself – and failing. Precisely because it is bound to fail, the project of heterosexual identity is propelled into an endless repetition of itself” (313). It is enforced through political, institutional, and everyday ways, such as the expectations and assumptions of others, media erasure, or norms and socialization through gender.

Butler emphasizes the oppressive actions of the institution of heterosexuality, which continues to center men in every aspect of women’s lives without ever providing another option. Similarly, Rich (1980) describes how heterosexuality is “both forcibly and subliminally imposed on women” (24) and details how it functions as a tool of the oppressors, servicing men and providing them easy access to women in all ways; in the home, in the workplace, and in sexuality. To survive the heteronormative, patriarchal world, lesbians must often play the part of not only being heterosexual, “but 50.

MJFS a heterosexual woman, in terms of dressing and playing the feminine, deferential role required of ‘real’ women” (Rich 1980, 642). This works to erase lesbian possibility and reinforces the idea that heterosexuality is the ‘natural’ choice, while simultaneously eliminating the provision of any other ‘unnatural’ options. This inherently connects to the conception of gender due to the socialization and structural expectations for ‘natural’ femininity and womanhood and for women to never deviate from said expectations and their intrinsic connection to heterosexuality. However, Rich (1980) argues that lesbian existence defies and rejects the narrative of heteronormativity: it is “an act of resistance” (649).

its temporality, ephemerality, and phenomenology.

The Ephemerality of Lesbian Gender Gender itself, while often interpreted by the normative society as being natural, essential, and in line with sex, is entirely personal. Ephemerality describes something temporary, fleeting, and impermanent, with evidence existing as anecdotes, feelings, memories, or experiences.

Muñoz (1996) describes queerness as existing outside of visible evidence, existing rather as “innuendo, gossip, fleeting moments, and performances that are meant to be interacted with by those within its epistemological sphere – while evaporating at the touch of those who would eliminate queer possibility” (6). It is something intangible and can be hidden or taken away from those who do not understand it. This can relate largely to the experience of gender for lesbians; it is complex, transitory, and an experience, rather than a strict in-the-lines answer. Their understanding of their gender can be found in anecdotes from childhood, in similes and metaphors, or simply as something that cannot quite be explained.

When womanhood and femininity are so constrained by the patriarchal institution of heterosexuality, once detached from its androcentricity, one can create space for gender exploration.

The Lesbian Disconnect from Womanhood While many lesbians continue to identify as female and feel comfortable in their womanhood, there is a large population of lesbians who do not identify as women at all. Gender is constructed from birth, or even before; it is imposed onto each individual based on their sex, who is then expected to perform the gender they have been assigned. Of course, womanhood does not mean being with a man; however, in the cisheteronormative, androcentric society, being a woman is fundamentally connected to heterosexuality and to men. Many woman-identifying lesbians do find a way to detach from this imposition and contin- Disruption of Assigned Gender ue to thrive in their womanhood, but many Ahmed’s Queer Phenomlesbians also feel a detachment from their assigned gender once they investigate their enology (2006) discusses what it own assumed heterosexuality. This detach- means to be oriented and to acquire ment is intimate to each individual. How- orientation in the world.This poses ever, one can investigate the ways in which the question: what does it mean to this ‘lesbian gender’ is lived by exploring 51.

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mean to be oriented in the world as a lesbian? How does this impact the experience? Ahmed (2006) discusses the idea of ‘becoming straight’ and how “to become straight means not only that we have to turn toward the objects given to us by heterosexual culture but also...turn away from objects that take us off this line” (554).

She adds that “the queer subject within straight culture hence deviates and is made socially present as a deviant” (Ahmed 2006, 554). She goes on to explain how positions are imposed on us, even as children, with the expectation to follow the paths set for us. In doing so, sex and gender become aligned with sexuality; the expectation is to not only be the gender which one has been assigned, but to be oriented as ‘normal’ – as heterosexual. In addition, Ahmed (2006) connects this idea to Rich’s (1980) compulsory heterosexuality, stating that “subjects are required to tend toward some objects and not others, as a condition of familial as well as social love” (557). This presumption entails that children have no choice but to follow their parents’ heterosexual line.

have a sexual orientation; it is part of the institution of heterosexuality that Rich describes. It also means that not following this imposed line, disrupts the space where one exists and how one exists. She describes the act of moving one’s sexual orientation, specifically from straight to lesbian, as “reinhabiting one’s body, given that one’s body no longer extends the space or even skin of the social” (Ahmed 2006, 563). In doing so, this also presents the possibility of disrupting one’s previously comfortable gender identity. When one crosses the threshold of ‘deviance’, this leaves space for more questions to occur. Furthermore, attempting to exist as a lesbian with a ‘re-inhabited body’ in heterosexual women’s spaces can feel very disorienting; both in terms of feeling uncomfortable and out of place, but also in feeling the need to assimilate. As described before in connection to liminality, to not overly disrupt certain spaces, lesbians may feel as though they must present more ‘like a woman’.

When examining lived experiences and orientation, one must look at what space one is welcome in, but also the spaces where one is not. For This assumption is pre- many lesbians, women’s spaces are scribed to each person before even often exclusionary, due to both a disunderstanding what it means to ruption of sexuality and potentially 52.

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gender. This can lead to a further detachment from the female identity, propelling the ‘deviant’ expression of gender and sexuality.

The Liminality of Lesbian Gender Liminality explains the experience of being in a state of ambiguity – being both/and, rather than either/or. The concept exists to disrupt the normative binaries that are idealized and expected, in terms of both sexuality and gender. Queer liminality expresses transition and in-betweenness, an experience common to queer people (Muñoz 1996).

With regards to a lesbian experience of gender, liminality brings to light the ambiguity and fluidity of what it means to be a woman and a lesbian.

The binary understanding of gender declares that one must either be a woman or a man. However, many lesbians identify as non-binary, do not have a label at all, or even just describe their gender as ‘lesbian’, where their attraction becomes secondary to their identification with the identity (Hord 2020, 7). They feel more connected to their gender identity through their sexuality.

One can be both a woman and not, specifically when the world continues to perceive you as a woman

despite you not quite feeling like one. When socialized as a woman, continuing to experience misogyny, and dealing with the assumption of womanhood, one can fully identify with the female experience and yet not identify as a woman. There have been innumerous historical instances of gender non-conforming lesbians, such as butches and femmes, ‘female masculinity’, and genderfluid lesbians. Lesbians range from using strictly she/her pronouns to she/they to they/she to any pronouns to he/him pronouns. There is no true specificity in what it means to be a lesbian, which is part of the beauty of the identity.

Cisgender Heterosexual Perceptions

Lesbian experiences and identities tend to be greatly misunderstood by cisgender and heterosexual individuals; they feel that their own sexuality and gender expression are innate and “do not need to be explained... and that it is lesbian sexuality which is seen as requiring explanation” (Rich 1980, 637). When it comes to gender, giving an explanation can be even more confusing. Lesbians will often adjust themselves to different spaces, feeling more safe and comfortable expressing themselves and their

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gender authentically in queer spaces – specifically lesbian spaces – rather than in normative ones (Eves 2004, 482). While every experience will differ, this could mean switching pronouns to match the norm (e.g. using she/her rather than she/they or they/she) in an attempt to not disrupt the space, or referring to a girlfriend as a partner and using gender-neutral descriptors. While everyone should feel safe to live and present as their identity in every space, the reality for many lesbians is that they are pressured to adjust for safety and acceptance. This functions within the scope of liminality; when a lesbian does not openly declare their sexuality or gender expression or switches pronouns in different spaces, they are not detracting from their legitimate identity. They are able to exist as both non-woman and woman, as an out lesbian and a closeted one, or as connected to femininity in some ways and detached in others.

In some spaces, femme-presenting lesbians may be perceived as an assumed heterosexual feminine girl, in others as a visibly queer, non-binary high femme – a lesbian who intentionally presents in an extravagantly feminine way, but through a queer lens. For masculine lesbians, they may identify with masculinity

while still embracing womanhood.

The importance of liminality in relation to gender for lesbians is that it provides a fluidity that is not offered in normative society. It defies stereotypes and assumptions, as well as the need for one specific label for one’s identity. Liminality creates an in-between space for this gender experience to occur.

Butch and Femme Identities in Lesbian Gender Continuing the discussion on queer liminality, one must discuss the concept of butch and femme identities. Butch and femme began as descriptors for lesbian style and personality expression; however, these expressions also often pose connections to the experience of gender as well. In fact, Levitt and Hiestand (2004) outline how many butch lesbians emerged in the 1940s after WWII and took on the ‘role’ of being a man to get work and live safely with their femme partners. In the1970s, when the androgynous lesbian expression began to rise in popularity, the butch-femme dynamic was criticized for mimicking heteronormative dynamics. However, this is far from the truth, as both butch and femme identities distance themselves from men and develop

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their own lesbian identities within their expression. They do not fit into static ideas of heteronormative sexuality and gender, but create their own liminal space in which they can exist. Eves (2004) furthers this argument in their study on the construction of lesbian genders. The study explains that the identities of butch and femme reconceptualize sexuality and gender, contrasting the narrative that these identities simply mimic heterosexuality in dynamics and expression. Butch and femme are described as different ways of “doing” lesbian gender and in turn detail the different ways in which lesbians use these identities to subvert gender and heterosexuality (Eves 2004).

For butch lesbians, gender is often intrinsically tied with their sexuality. Levitt and Hiestand’s (2004) study found that their participants described being butch as an innate experience: that they would be “butch” with or without the label. Further, some participants also expressed at times feeling masculine in terms of gender, or like a “third sex” (Levitt and Hiestand 2004, 610), but expressed the difference between this masculinity and wanting to be a man. This form of gender

expression is particular to lesbians, existing in opposition to maleness and heterosexuality, with butch existence involving “traditional signs of masculinity [being] radicalized” (Levitt and Hiestand 2004, 615). In terms of femme lesbians, they may express their femininity in a way that is inherently queer; they are not performing feminity to attract men, which often leads to a ‘camp’-like presentation, seen in an overdramatized, hyperbolic display of femininity, as though it was a performance (Eves 2004). The liminality and fluidity of these identities are not always understood by onlookers; however, they need only to exist for themselves.

Critique of Rich’s Essentialism While much of Rich’s literature was revolutionary and still provides a basis for lesbian academia and understanding today, she assumes that lesbian always equates to woman. It is crucial while forming an analysis of Compulsory Heterosexuality to critique Rich’s ideas of essentialism of lesbianism. Specifically, Rich’s understanding of lesbianism is to be a woman – while understanding that the term ‘non-binary’ did not exist at the time of writing the paper, her writing fails

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to acknowledge the inherent gender non-conformity and defying of gender norms that come with lesbianism. While Rich (1980) addresses the oppression of lesbians through the heterosexual institution, she automatically assigns femaleness to lesbians; after all, she “perceives the lesbian experiences as a profoundly female experience” (650). This erases the disconnect from womanhood that lesbians often experience due to its inherent proximity to heterosexuality. Relying on essentialist arguments such as “the uncontrollable male sexual drive” (Rich 1980, 645) and insisting that the lesbian experience is inherently woman-identified, is verging on trans-exclusionary.

While learning from Rich’s foundational literature, one must also keep in mind the radical feminist movement of the 1980s, which used arguments such as these to push trans-exclusionary rhetoric in feminist and lesbian spaces. Though Rich provides important ideas on lesbian experiences, the understanding and language of gender have progressed since the paper’s publication.

Conclusion Through the examination of Rich’s Compulsory Heterosexuality and the Lesbian Existence, we can

better understand the unique experience of gender that many lesbians identify with. Adrienne Rich built one of the foundational theories on lesbian experience, although her work is not without fault. While Rich’s model of compulsory heterosexuality contributes to further the analysis of gender, she also associates the lesbian identity intrinsically with being a woman. This excludes many lesbian identities and the detachment from a female identity that often occurs with a separation from heterosexuality. Using the concepts of liminality, ephemerality, and phenomenology, this paper has demonstrated how gender can be an inherently unique experience for many lesbians and how they interact with their own identities.

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References

Ahmed, Sara. “Orientations: Toward Muñoz, José Esteban. “Ephemera as a Queer Phenomenology.”

Evidence: Introductory GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian Notes to Queer Acts.” and Gay Studies, 12(4), Women & Performance: a 2006. 543-574.

Journal of Feminist Theory, 8(2), 1996. 5–16.

Butler, Judith. “Imitation and Gen der Insubordination.” The Lesbian and Gay Studies Rich, Adrienne. “Compulsory Het Reader. Eds. Henry Abelove erosexuality and Lesbian et al. New York: Routledge, Existence.” Signs, 5(4), 1993. 307-320.

1980. 631–660.

Eves, Alison. “Queer Theory, Butch/ Femme Identities and Les bian Space.” Sexualities, 7(4), 2004. 480–496.

Hord, Levi. C. R. Specificity with out Identity: Articulating Post-Gender Sexuality Through the “Non-Binary Lesbian.” Sexualities, 0(0).

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Levitt, Heidi. M., & Hiestand, Kath erine. R. “A Quest for Au thenticity: Contemporary Butch Gender.” Sex Roles: A Journal of Research, 50(910), 2004. 605–621.

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Resources For Our Readers While many of our pieces in this issue deal with difficult subjects, we want to provide readers with resources that can be found within and beyond the McGill community.

Montreal Sexual Assault Centre - 1-888-933-9007 or 1-514-933-9007 (crisis line) or info@cvasm.ca Provincial Helpline for Victims of Sexual Assault: 1-888-933-9007 West Island CALACS - 514.684.2198 ​​ or info@calacsdelouest.ca The Resource and Information Centre for Men Sexually Abused in their Childhood (CRIPHASE) - 514.529.5567 Shield of Athena crisis line - 514.270.2900 The Third Eye Collective - thirdeyecollective514@gmail.com Native Friendship Centre - 514-499-1854 Centre for Gender Advocacy - Telephone: 514-848-2424 x7431 or Peer Support Line: 514-848-2424 x7880 Pride Therapy Network of Montreal - info@montrealpridetherapynetwork.com Crisis Text Line - Text ‘CONNECT’ to 686-868 Suicide Action Montreal - 1-866-277-3553 Trans Lifeline - 877-330-6366 Face a Face - Service line for those experiencing homelessness - 514-934-4546