(Un)settled: Exploring Gender in History

INSIDE (un)settled Exploring Gender in History

The Past is Aways Present Where Did All the Women Go? The Erasure of Female Leadership from Church History

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Be Fruitful but Don’t Multiply: Controlling Fertility Before the Pill

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The Colonized Black Male Body & Today’s African Anti-gay Laws

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The “Comfort Women”: A Silent Struggle & Ongoing Fight

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The “Sixties Scoop” & its Dismantling of Indigenous Motherhood

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Feature Forced Femininity: Corsets & the Cultural Body Page 23

Gendered Frontiers The Domestic Phenomenon of the Eighteenth Century

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Albanian Burrnesha: From Girls to Men

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Editor Robynne Rogers Healey Designer/ Art Director Tammy Chomiak Writers Alyssa M. Broadbent Sydney R. Dvorak Grace K. English Hanna-marie Gazso Dana Graham Lai Janina Ritzen Pulfer Carter Sawatzky Victoria Spencer Madeleine Wilk

Hua Mulan: Legend of a Cross Dressing Warrior Page 38 Billy Tipton: The Musical Flow of Gender

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Isabelle Eberhardt: Gender Unveiled

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Marsha Johnson: The People’s Queen

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Feature What a Tangled Web We Weave: The Children of Colonization

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He Said, She Said, They Said Speaking of They: Colonized Two-Spirit Bodies

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Gender, Colonized: Women in Igbo Communities Before and During British Colonization Page 66

Feature The Kitchen is Where Women Keep the Knives… to cut Sandwiches in Half: 1950s Advertising & the New Electric(!) Victorian Gender Norms Page 71

Pop Culture Corner Outlander: A Genre-Busting Series

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“What if we was men, instead a’ women”—The Keeping Room

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The Queen Bee Phenomenon: A Colonial Impulse Page 92

Endnotes

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From The Editor References for each article and uncaptioned images are located at the end of the magazine. There you will find endnotes that correspond to each of the section.

Cover image luizclas, Silhouette of Woman Reaching the Moon, pexels.com.

EDITORIAL

Welcome to our digital magazine project! This project is a summative, collaborative undertaking of the students in the Fall 2020 course HIST/GNDR 403 and HIST 503—Engendered History. Gender history is a field in the disciplines of history and gender studies. It emerged from women’s history, a field that gained traction in the academy in the mid-twentieth century. Women’s history was strongly influenced by secondwave feminism and the methods of “bottom-up” social history. It placed the study of women, their contributions, accomplishments, and challenges at its centre. A history with women at the centre questioned traditional periodization and the ways gender differences have been socially constructed at different times and places.

New ways of understanding the experience and expression of gender emerged in the 1980s. In 1986, Joan Wallach Scott’s theorization of gender as a category of historical analysis argued for shifting the focus away from relating women’s experiences to deconstructing the discourse of gender, including masculinities. In 1989, Kimberlé Crenshaw captured the importance of intersecting individual and community identities (such as gender, race, and class) with the term “intersectionality.” Scholars disagreed on these and other approaches. Throughout the theory wars of the long 1990s, feminist historians, women’s historians, and gender historians battled over the methods and purpose of the field. Gender historians today generally agree about the importance of intersectionality and of examining historical actors’ navigation of discourse and lived experience. The field faces ongoing challenges including ongoing disputes about the meaning of gender in the past and the present.

Our class selected “colonized bodies/colonized spaces” as magazine’s theme. The three feature articles and the articles that make up the magazine’s four sections all reflect on this theme in some way. The diversity of topics points to the breadth of students’ interests and the possibilities for research in the field. We have included short pieces as well as longer, more in-depth articles; we have intentionally tried to include non-European and non-white perspectives. We have had to leave out more stories than we could ever include, and we have had to leave a lot out of the stories we have included. Even so, we hope that this magazine will introduce you to unfamiliar histories and new ways of viewing familiar ones.

This project was an experiment. It would not have been possible without the collective efforts of wonderful students who willingly ventured into an unknown learning experience.

Their thoughtful and committed engagement throughout this process, despite the added pressures of COVID-19 and an entirely virtual learning environment has been inspiring.

I have learned a great deal. Thank you to Janina Ritzen Pulfer for our headshots. A special note of gratitude must go to our Art Director Tammy Chomiak. Without her talents, organizational skills, and efficiency we would not have such a beautiful final product.

Robynne Rogers Healey, Phd Professor of History robynne.healey@twu.ca

Where Did All the Women Go? The Erasure of Female Leadership from Church History Throughout its long and complex history, countless Christian women have served in prominent roles. Regrettably, most of their stories have been erased from traditional religious histories.1 From its origins, the Church has had female apostles, deacons, priests, prophets, abbesses, missionaries, bishops, and ministers. Women have also made up the majority of Church attendees. Why have they been erased?

Christianity is a tradition that focuses on the worship of what is perceived of as a male God. It could be said, therefore, that the development of patriarchy and misogyny in a religion focused on a male God is not surprising.2 Men wrote the histories of the Church and its rules.

When a woman exercised leadership—seen as a male activity—that woman was “operating beyond their allotted sphere.”3 Further, these separate spheres were thought to be natural, even biological, and ordained by God. Because of cultural patriarchy, the histories of women in the Church have too often been stricken from the record. Therefore, the hard work must begin to recover the stories of these female leaders.

To examine the role of women in the early Church, one must understand women in broader Hellenistic culture. Very little information about women exists from this period, and that which does exist “represents, for the most part, the viewpoint of men writing about women.”4 Politics and public life was a sphere reserved for men in Christian antiquity.

Political life reflected the hierarchy of the home, of which the father was the head. There is, therefore, an inherent and inevitable patriarchal bias to be found in the culture’s records.

The New Testament Church based its philosophy on Christ. In contrast to the Hellenistic culture in which the early Church was located, the teachings of Christ were countercultural, including their view of women. Women and men were called disciples of Jesus, they were a “discipleship of equals,” and expressed themselves as such.5 Both women and men heard the teachings of Jesus, and were called to live life by the message of the gospel. Like men, women were baptized, and encouraged to live in service to the Christian community.6

Fresco of a female priest in the early Christian church in the Catacombs of Priscilla in Rome, Italy. Fair use.

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Jesus clearly saw women as important, and he paid them more regard than would have been normal in Hellenistic culture. Jesus engaged in dialogue with Mary (Luke 10:38–42) and allowed women to listen and support his ministry (Luke 8:1–3). Women supported Jesus financially, which meant they acted as patrons of the Early Church. Patronage was an essential part of Greco-Roman culture and was a high honour, socially and economically.7 Most importantly, women stayed with Jesus through his crucifixion when the men had gone (Mark 15:40–41), and in all of the Gospels it is women who find the tomb empty and to whom Christ first appears after the resurrection (Matthew 28:1–10, Mark 16:1-8, Luke 24:1–10, John 20:1–2).

Women served as leaders in at least eight of the first churches, resulting in one second-century Greek philosopher, Celsus, ridiculing Christianity as “a religion of women, children, and slaves.”8 In the Byzantine tradition, women could be ordained as deaconesses as outlined in The Byzantine Ordination Rite of the Deaconess: “Sovereign Lord, you who do not reject women offering themselves and desiring to minister in your holy houses… receive them into an order of ministers, bestow the grace of your Holy Spirit also upon this your servant...and fill her with the grace of the diaconate, just as you gave the grace of your diaconate for Phoebe, whom you called to the work of your ministry.”9 Scholars believe that Phoebe, the deaconess mentioned in the Ordination Rite, was an emissary who delivered and presented Paul’s letter to the Romans. In that letter, Paul introduces Phoebe as “sister,” demonstrating her equality with the “brothers” in the family of Christ. Paul then calls Phoebe a deaconess, or minister, at the church in Cenchreae (Romans 16:1–2). In addition to delivering the letter, scholars agree that Phoebe would have been in charge of presenting and teaching it to the church in Rome.10 Women ministers were not uncommon. Clement of Alexandria wrote in the third book of his Stromata that the apostles took women with them “not as wives but as sisters, so that they might serve as co-ministers.”11 The change came with the Council of Nicea in AD 325, which met with the intention of organizing Christianity Phoebe the Deacon being given St. Paul’s epistle to deliver to Rome, Fair use.

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into a unified religion. This council decided that women could no longer be ordained or serve as leaders in the church.12 The Council of Laodicea in AD 363 further forbade women from priesthood and approaching the altar, and the Fourth Synod of Carthage in AD 397 decreed that women could not teach men or baptize others.13 Though these councils removed women from ministry and public life in the Church, their decisions are evidence that prior to their decrees women were being ordained, teaching, and baptizing others. The prescription that God intended for men to lead and women to listen began to take shape in the Church.

The rulings of these councils and the doctrine that this was “God’s design,” overshadowed the women of the early Church who did serve as spiritual and congregational leaders.14 The role of a woman was to stay in the sphere that male Church leaders contended God had created for her: to be a submissive wife and glorify God by serving men.

The alternative for women who desired a spiritual life, or could not secure a husband, was to be sequestered into the convent. Female leadership in convents was accepted because these women were confined, and could be “safely kept from taking on men’s work.”15

Mrs. Juliann Jane Tillman, preacher of the A.M.E. Church, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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Well into the modern era, women were seen as inferior to men in academia and religion because they were too emotional to be capable leaders. The opinion that women were designed inferior to men was and continues to be used as justification for men to colonize the Christian religion. The concept of gender equality in the Church emerged in the sixteenth century as a result of the Lutheran Reformation. Many of the first challengers emerged from Protestant denominations, such as Quaker women who became preachers.16 With the eighteenth-century democratic revolutions, feminism entered the political realm.

The nineteenth-century suffragettes broadened the conversation of rights from the legal to the social, which included the Church. Writer and American suffragist Elizabeth Cady Stanton stated that “all religions degrade women, but the worst enemies of women are found in the Protestant churches, where the leaders

Elizabeth Cady Stanton, American writer and suffragette, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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use the Bible to silence women.”The twentieth century allowed for religious expression, which in turn allowed for biblical fundamentalism to emerge as a monolithic paradigm.17 Today, one in four Americans identifies as a member of an evangelical church, which are made up mostly of women.18 Using strict fundamentalist authority and selective appeals to scripture, fundamentalist churches have prohibited women from being ordained or ministering. This has prevented a broader understanding of women in the early Church, including ignoring “the historical evidence of women functioning as deacons, priests, and bishops.”19 Fundamentalist evangelical churches are often characterized by ideology that can be traced to “the community’s literalist Bible hermeneutic whereby men’s leadership is ordained.”20 Much of the Christian church has not moved beyond the prohibitions of the fourth century.

Even though many Christian churches have abandoned or drastically changed their doctrines on the role of women, traditional arguments of women’s inferiority continue to shape Christian discourse. Lessons taught from the pulpit use highly gendered language, constructing separate spheres of congregational life that “produce the gendered believer.”21 The traditional arguments against women in Church leadership are not based on the teachings of Jesus and the early Church; they must not go unchallenged. One must look closest to Jesus to find the women who led early churches.

Following the example of the first century church, it becomes clear that statements that discourage women from teaching, preaching, or ministering in any way are relics from the colonization of religious spaces by men and not from Jesus.

Sydney R. Dvorak (she/her) European Studies (history stream) major Executive Minister, Kelly Osborne, speaking to the congregation, photo by Sydney Dvorak, 2019.

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Be Fruitful but Don’t Multiply: Controlling Fertility Before the Pill Depictions of ancient medicine focus strongly on medicinal plants and the ways they were used. Until recent years very little consideration has been given to the effectiveness of ancient medicine. This is especially true for gynecological material mentioned in ancient texts. But the inclusion of birth control or fertility management methods in ancient texts is significant for two important reasons. First, the fact that there is evidence of birth control throughout history shows that women’s desire for control of their bodies has been present for nearly as long as we have printed sources.

Second, with more modern consideration slowly being given to ancient medical knowledge, there is evidence that these techniques were both desired and, somewhat effective. This shifts our understanding of family dynamics and the autonomy of women in history. Examples in ancient Greece and Egypt show that ancient peoples were discussing and creating solutions to fertility management. In early modern England this knowledge was no longer present in medical texts, but women still found ways to share and access it.

Bronze pessary, Roman, 200 BCE-400 CE. Credit: Science Museum, London.

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Ancient Greece is known for its distinct culture and innovations that influenced other empires. One such innovation was the discovery of giant fennel and its fertility management benefits. Silphium, a variety of giant fennel, was only found in the hills near the city of Cyrene in modern Libya and quickly became the city’s most notable feature.1 The coins of Cyrene were minted to feature a woman’s figure pointing to both her womb and to a likeness of giant fennel above her;2 a clear allusion to the plants use. The seeds of the plant were processed into a juice which women drank once a month for preventative purposes. Alternatively, the leaves of the plant were mashed and mixed with wool and inserted after sex as an emergency contraceptive.3 Eventually, due to over harvesting and the failure to cultivate it successfully elsewhere, giant fennel became extinct.4 The use of the seeds in the application of giant fennel likely contributed to its eventual extinction as cultivation of the plant was already very difficult and attempts to plant giant fennel in other areas always failed.

The extinction of the giant fennel, though sad for ecological reasons, is an important clue to the desire for birth control in the ancient world. The plant, maybe one of the only effective means of birth control available to the people of ancient Greece, was so valuable and desired that it could not keep up with demand. This shows that the ancient world sought out birth control en masse. This challenges assumptions that these are modern concerns and opens up a new way of understanding the daily lives of ancient people. Recontextualizing the desires of ancient people and acknowledging the desire for bodily autonomy in the ancient world helps to destigmatize the current struggles for bodily autonomy.

Myths are also a strong indicator a cultures values, and ancient Greek myths contain allusions to birth control. Consider the myth of Persephone and Hades.

In the myth Persephone is kidnapped by Hades and brought to the underworld to be his bride. Before her absence is noticed and she is located Persephone eats some pomegranate seeds, which ultimately seal her fate of being in the underworld for a portion of the year.5 By eating the food of the underworld Persephone is permanently tied to the underworld and compelled to spend several months of the year there. The months Persephone is in the underworld are the winter months when the land is infertile. This reference to pomegranate seeds is a reference to the use of pomegranate seeds to decrease fertility; ancient women chewed pomegranate seeds to reduce their chances of pregnancy.6

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This was common knowledge when the myth was at its height, but the cultural context was lost for many years. There is little evidence that this method of contraception was effective biologically. Then again, recent studies have shown that rats fed the active ingredient from pomegranate seeds were unable to gestate a viable fetus. When given the compound prior to fertilization the embryo did not embed.7 This study was not able to be replicated in hamsters and there is not enough evidence to say if this method would be effective in humans. Nonetheless, the ancient Greeks used the seeds in hopes that they would work.

Elsewhere in the ancient world fertility management techniques were not shared as myths but in the medical texts of the day. In Egypt both the Ebers Papyrus and the Kahun Papyrus devote sections to birth control methods, the Kahun Papyrus was a papyrus devoted solely to gynecological practices.8 The Ebers Papyrus contains the earliest recorded medical knowledge of Egypt including descriptions of vaginal pessaries to prevent pregnancies.

Vaginal pessaries could be combinations of herbs, plant fibers, dates and acacia gum inserted into the vagina prior to intercourse to prevent fertilization.9 The Kahun Papyrus also contains many uses of acacia gum in its birth control methods following the knowledge of the Ebers Papyrus in pessary application but adding ingredients like alligator dung.10 Acacia gum was the most common ingredient in gynecological applications in ancient Egypt and modern testing of acacia gum shows that it has some spermicidal properties in lab conditions.11 The acacia gum produces lactic acid which is how synthetic spermicidal gels work.12 In Elizabethan England there were fewer direct discussions of birth control in medical texts because of the cultural avoidance of discussions of sex, but birth control methods were still shared. Mostly knowledge was shared between acquaintances, and within herbalism books and cookbooks.13 Often, to avoid direct reference to sex, herbs were labelled as miscarriage risks ostensibly so the reader would avoid such combinations if pregnant, but the reality was that this was a convenient way to share birth control methods in a society that was squeamish about open discussions of sex.14 Queen Anne’s lace was a commonly used plant in this time; its seeds were chewed, or it was brewed into a tea to prevent pregnancy. Again, there is limited but positive evidence that this could have been effective; in lab testing ingesting Queen Anne’s lace was effective in preventing pregnancies in rats.15

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Not all the methods suggested in historic texts were effective, some were even very damaging. One unfortunately common method of birth control in this era was douching with oils, herbs and other chemicals.16 Given that douching alone is damaging, douching with chemicals was very dangerous. Chemical burns and infections were common with such methods. Despite this, they were widely used enough that Pope Sixtus V issued a Papal Bull in 1599 condemning the use of chemical douches.17 Again, this is another indication of just how desperate women were to control their fertility. Much later, in 1869, Pope Pius IX outlawed abortion for Catholics declaring that the human soul was present at conception.18 This was the first time an official body came out strongly against any form of birth control. Prior to this there was no advocacy nor discouragement towards birth control by governments or religious body. Before the involvement of official bodies, the only barrier to contraception was personal access. Women and men had vested interest in birth control methods, and still do. Ancients did not consider birth control a moral issue; it was a tool to control their fertility. It has only been fairly recently that negative attitudes about promiscuousness and moral downfall have been to birth control methods.

Current research shows that many of the methods used by ancient peoples were at least partially effect forms of contraception. The acacia gum used in Egypthas spermicidal properties, the pomegranate seeds contain compounds that prevent embryo implantation, and Queen Anne’s lace prevents fetal development. This knowledge has always been present in the primary documents but due to the tendency of scholars to write off ancient medical practices as superstition, it has not been explored until recently.

Perhaps more important than the effectiveness of birth control methods is their existence at all. Both men and women have always had a vested interest in birth control. Women face major risk to their lives during pregnancy. The birth process held a high likelihood of death, and the economic implications of being pregnant could include the inability to work and support one’s family.19 In agrarian societies where all members of the family were expected to contribute to the family’s livelihood having to care for an infant was very costly. All of this culminated in the wide-spread desire for and use of birth control Victoria Spencer (she/her) throughout the ancient world.

Political Science major

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Colonized Black Male Bodies: The Battleground for African Anti-LGBTQ+ Laws A longstanding battle on the African continent rages on; its battleground is located squarely on the bodies of Black gay men. When Britain colonized large areas of Africa in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, thet set in place penal codes which outlawed “crimes against nature,” meant to signal homosexual acts.1 These penal codes remain in many postcolonial countries; a 2019 report by the International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans, and Intersex Association found that thirty-two of fifty-four African nations currently criminalize same-sex relations.2 Gay sex is punishable by death penalty in Mauritania, Sudan, Northern Nigeria, and Southern Somalia.3 These laws have remained almost immutable for over sixty years; occasionally an amendment might be disputed around election periods.4 Although these anti-LGBTQ+ laws never originally existed in Africa before colonization, the rhetoric around these nations’ laws often includes the defense of preserving “traditional African values.” This convenient yet historically untrue defense is then used to criminalize, bully, and discriminate against LGBTQ+ individuals and advocates as well as anyone who is suspected of sympathizing with their cause.5 So why are many African nations upholding colonially-imposed anti-LGBTQ+ laws at the same time their colonizers are turning away from those laws? As the West has gained increasing knowledge on the spectrum of human sexuality and moved on from categorizing LGBTQ+ individuals as diseased or criminal, countries like the United States, Canada, and Britain are moving to recognize the rights and freedoms of LGBTQ+ people. This includes embracing marriage equality, enshrining LGBTQ+ protections in law, and criminalizing conversion therapy. Many nations in Africa, on the other hand, do not seem willing to adopt similar laws or even acknowledge the existence of LGBTQ+ individuals in their own countries.

In April of 2018, British Prime Minister Theresa May publicly stated that she “deeply regrets” Britain’s legacy of anti-LGBTQ+ laws across the Commonwealth.6 She called for an overhaul of laws regarding the criminalization of “outdated” legislation and declared that Britain had a “special responsibility” in righting the wrongs of colonial-era anti-gay laws.7 May’s call to action ignited controversy over pre-colonial Africa’s position on sexual minorities. Was it exclusively heterosexual or as sexually-diverse as African LGBTQ+ activists claim it was?

“Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta responded to May that “[LGBTQ+ equality] is not an issue, as you would want to put it, of human rights. This is an issue of society, of our own base, as a culture as a people.”8 Most Africans today do not acknowledge homophobia as part of a colonial legacy.9 Some Africans maintain that there existed a pre-colonial, heterosexual continent10 where there were little to no sexual minorities native to the land. This impression of an African past free of LGBTQ+ people has resulted in legislators, religious leaders, and even presidents casually referring to homosexuality as “un-African.”11 Africans decolonizing their continent from its British colonial legacy have constructed an ideal “original culture.” According to those who trust this narrative, “making Africa great again” means strengthening and tightening antiLGBTQ+ laws to recover their bygone tradition.

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While notions of a heterosexual Africa are popular, it is challenged by the ethnographic evidence “from the Azande of the Congo to the Beti of Cameroon…from the Pangwe of Gabon to the Nama of Namibia” of same-sex relationships existing and flourishing before British colonial rule.12 Despite the overwhelming evidence of gender and sexual minorities in pre-colonial Africa, there remains an active polarization between defenders of the heterosexual “African culture” and the upsurge in African LGBTQ+ activism.

This all plays into the systems of colonialism. Colonizers first conquered the continent by successfully turning Africans against each other so that they might blame themselves for divisions and not their settlers.13 This narrative of African in-fighting is key to ongoing, or neocolonialism. An acknowledgement of the past, and its interpretation, is key to solving present-day issues.

The sodomy laws prevalent in African sexual politics today stem from a history of widespread Christian colonization; this colonial process whitewashed traditional African sexualities and erased histories according to the standards of Eurocentric heteronormativity. Christian missionaries to Africa planted a particular interpretation of the Bible that demonized those who deviated from Western notions of heterosexuality. This rhetoric especially affected Black gay men who posed a distinct threat to white masculinity. African proponents of today’s socalled sodomy laws routinely portray LGBTQ+ individuals––especially gay men––as demonic, predators of young boys, and as infectious, diseased degenerates.14 Today’s African sexual politics mimics the White imagination of early Christian colonizers who considered Black men to be hypersexual, animalistic, and predisposed to violence.15 The white men of British colonial rule reduced Black men to their bodies: they “identified their muscles and their penises”16 as their most important sites. To assert control, white masculinity had to quickly tame Black male sexuality according to their own sexual morality––only then would Black men be suitable citizens. Today’s anti-gay laws find their colonial roots in the fears and anxieties of white masculinity.

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Over time, these LGBTQ prohibitions have left a psychic mark upon Black gay men and the culture that surrounds them.17 Due to fear of the police discriminating against them due to sexual orientation, Black gay men will likely not seek out the police in the unfortunately common instances of hate crimes like extortion, blackmail, or physical or sexual assault.18 The existence of the so-called sodomy laws creates a deadly silence that turns a blind eye on the daily discrimination of Black gay men as they seek jobs, rent housing, and pursue education.

The oppression of gay men in Africa translates to barriers for obtaining and receiving proper, life-saving medical treatment. Because they worry of being outed, abused, or shamed by insensitive healthcare workers, they often suffer in silence. Unsurprisingly, there is a gap in HIV research and health programmes because of the taboo and criminalization of sexual relations between men; it can be estimated that thousands of gay men are dying each year as a result of unawareness or inability to get medication.19 Val Kalende, a Ugandan LGBTQ+ activist, explains it well when she suggests that “an honest discussion is needed on human sexuality in the African context before, during and after the colonial period. This is a conversation local activists, civil society, academics, and the media should begin to shape.�20

Carter Sawatzky (they/them) English major, Gender Studies minor

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The “Comfort Women”: A Silent Struggle and Ongoing Fight

Jack Birns, A Nationalist officer guarding women prisoners said to be “comfort girls” used by the Communists, 1948, https://www.history.com/ne, Fair use.

Between 1932 and 1945, the Japanese military forced tens of thousands of Korean women into sexual slavery.1 The military transferred these women to what it called comfort stations where they were given the title of “comfort women.” Reports have revealed that there were between 100,000 and 200,000 “comfort” women during this time.2 Although eighty percent of these women were Korean, the Japanese military also took women from China and the Philippines.3 The “comfort women” were primarily lower-class Koreans, reflecting Japanese ideas of dominance over Koreans. The demeanor of superiority was an extension of Japan’s colonization of Korea in the late nineteenth century, and its possession in 1910 of the Korean peninsula.4 The Japanese military also forced Japanese women to work at comfort stations; these women were assigned to officers and Korean women were assigned to soldiers.5 Comfort stations were controlled by Japanese civilian proprietors and the military. While at these stations, when they were not serving soldiers sexually, women performed household duties for soldiers such as cooking, laundering, and mending. Comfort stations were open the entire day. Soldiers usually paid a sum of money, which was shared between the proprietor and the woman. Whether it was evenly divided or not is unknown. Some stations permitted the women one day off each month; other stations provided no time off. “Comfort women” could not leave their station without military approval. The patriarchal control in the stations kept women isolated from the public world so they could not expose secrets to potential spies.6

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The Japanese military justified the violation of these women’s basic human rights by pointing to the need to restore the image of the imperial army and the honour of Japanese soldiers and Japan, protecting the health of soldiers, and reducing medical costs.7 The rape of women by multiple soldiers resulted in sexually transmitted infections, ultimately reducing soldiers’ ability to perform in battle.8 The lived experience of “comfort women” was extremely traumatic. They had been “coerced into comfort stations by traffickers posing as legitimate employers or were sacrificed as a contribution to the war effort.”9 Many survivors testify to being abducted, abused and abandoned at the end of the war. Kimiko Kaneda was only sixteen when she believed she had secured a job as a housemaid. Instead, the Japanese military sent her by a train to a comfort station where she was brutally abused.10 Maria Rosa Henson was the first “comfort woman” from the Philippines to come forward as a survivor. Japanese soldiers in the Philippines had sexually assaulted her repeatedly. When she joined a group protesting against the Japanese military, she was arrested and forced into sexual slavery as a “comfort woman.”

At the end of the war, the military killed many of the women. Others were left to fend for themselves and find their own way home, many died before returning home.11 Those who did survive suffered silently for the better half of a century.12 Their experience and trauma was silenced by the patriarchal society that believed issues surrounding women’s rights should stay private.13 Survivors became victims of discrimination at the hands of their families and communities. Both placed little value on these women and their experience. Culturally, Korean survivors were urged to keep quiet and forget their past lives as “comfort women.”14 Deemed as damaged, survivors often experienced great shame being retraumatized by the denial of their wartime experience.

United States Marine Corps, Korean Comfort Women, 1945, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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Both the Japanese and South Korean governments denied their part in these women’s trauma for al society in both countries “played the greatest role of all in perpetuating the crime.”15 Women exper accorded no value or respect during this time.16 The prolonged silence of the survivors was due in la of social movements”17 which were controlled by men. It was not until 1980 that women’s movemen Japanese Government about the “comfort women.” They demanded public acknowledgement, apo and greater awareness of this history in the classroom.18 Because the Japanese government had des at the end of the war, the testimony of survivors became an essential source in ensuring this history w

The work and efforts of many feminist movements highlighted the trafficking of women as a violatio meant that the experience of survivors could be addressed without the focus on shame. Kim Hak Su break the silence publicly in Seoul, Korea in 1991.21 The first Filipina woman to break the silence was female victims of sexual assault by the Korean and Japanese military officials had shared their storie Kim Hak Sun to share her story.23 She played an instrumental role in demanding acknowledgement f

In 1992, Japanese historian Yoshiaki Yoshimi exposed the existence of archival documents verifying and use comfort stations. This resulted in an investigation by the Japanese government and, in disco acknowledgement of Japanese military and government involvement. The Japanese government re that year and again in 1993.24 In 1995 Prime Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto and President of the Asian concrete action by sending a letter to each surviving victim and providing atonement money of 2 m also received medical care and welfare support. The atonement money was not the acknowledgeme for. The survivors wanted their war experience recognized in history textbooks and the education sys Education has “fought to rehabilitate Japan’s war,”26 in turn minimizing the traumatic experience of Japanese citizens support undermining the “comfort woman” history to prevent the criminalization which would undermine its power.27

This is why the fight for justice continues. The Asian Women’s Fund (AWF) founded in 1995 carried o projects with the Japanese government and people.28 These projects were completed in 2007 induc of the AWF. The fight for recognitions that this was a war crime and violation of human rights contin In 2011 the Korean Council for the Women Drafted for Military Sexual Slavery by Japan erected a st “Statue of Peace” in Seoul, South Korea to memorialize the victims.30 This monument reflects the te whose experiences and trauma are still considered by the Japanese government to be unreliable na sits next to an empty chair, which symbolizes the “lost agency”32 of the “comfort women.” This mon to the violent incomprehensibility of rape”33 and the loss it entails. The young girl’s features, such as the lack of free will of the “comfort women.”34 The empty chair recognizes many survivors have pas to those who want to join the fight for justice.35 Currently there is great uproar over the possible rem South Koreans fear this statue with its commentary on silence indicates their complicity in the comfo Many countries support the public reminder the statue evokes.36

Unfortunately, many survivors have died over the last few decades, especially those like Kim Hak Sun in the recognition of this issue as the violation of women’s humans’ rights. Those who did not come When they die, they will be permanently silenced. The ongoing battle over recognizing and rememb of these women is critical to ensure their own experiences of war—and the lessons of violence again part of war37—will remain part of the historical record.

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lmost half a century. The patriarchal rienced discrimination, and were arge part to the “broader concerns nts in Korea confronted the ology, investigation, compensation stroyed many of the official records was not erased.19

on of human rights.20 This approach un was the first Korean woman to s Maria Rosa Henson.22 Two other es in the 1980s, paving the way for from the government.

Japanese military plans to build overing official documents, an eleased an official apology later Women’s Fund Bunbei Hara took million yen per person.25 Survivors ent the survivors had been fighting stem. However, the Ministry of the “comfort women.” Many of the masculine state of Japan,

out national atonement cing the dissolvement nued after 2007.29 tatue called the estimonies of the survivors, arratives.31 A young girl nument “serves as a witness s her short hair, represent ssed away; it is an invitation moval of this statue. ort stations.

n who were instrumental forward remained silent. bering the lived experience nst women as an integral Grace K. English (she/her) Education major, Gender Studies minor

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The “Sixties Scoop” and Its Dismantling of Indigenous Motherhood First Nations, Metis, and Inuit children were ‘scooped’ from their homes by the Government of Canada beginning in the 1960s, although it was 1983 when Patrick Johnson created the term “Sixties Scoop.”1 The term ‘scooped’ is putting it gently. Children were apprehended, separated from their siblings, and stripped of their culture.2 The child welfare systems established by the government removed Indigenous children, placed them in nonIndigenous homes, and stripped them of their culture. The 1964 Annual Citizenship Reports record that the welfare services used the term ‘adoption’ to describe their actions.3 The numbers of children being scooped from their homes steadily increased. In 1958 the total number of Indigenous children taken was 871 but increased to 1,159 the following year.4 The apprehension of Indigenous children created intergenerational impacts, by preventing the transmission of culture from elders to children. The child welfare systems claimed to be working in the ‘best interest of the child’; this was far from the reality.5 Indigenous adults who were ‘scooped’ from their homes have reported experiences of severe trauma and abuse, have questioned their identity, and have exhibited behavioral trouble.6 The norms of Indigenous mothers differed from those of settler society. They were not confined to the private sphere, because their domestic work was extended to the public sphere where women were active members of the community.7 Each Indigenous community has unique practices. However, several Indigenous communities share the commonality that “express joint responsibilities and mutual respect amongst genders to meet the

R.C. Indian Residential School Study Time, Fort Resolution, N.W.T., date unknown, Bibliothèque et Archives Canada/PA-042133, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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Saskatchewan’s Adopt Indian and Metis Program, late 1960s, Discourse Magazine, Fair use.

goals of locally defined well-being.”8 It is evident that traditionally Indigenous mothers were honoured and respected within their communities.9 The roles of Indigenous women were anchored to the foundation of egalitarian and deeply spiritual societies Indigenous peoples pride themselves on.10 They were “wisdom-keepers; they taught children”11 about leadership, peacekeeping, healing, and care of the environment.12 In many communities Indigenous women “engaged in activities historically associated with men in order to… strengthen tribal culture.”13 These women exemplified great strength and independence.

The settler society gained control over the Indigenous peoples in the late nineteenth century, as they began to force their “Western configurations of gender that favor[ed] patriarchal structures”14 upon Indigenous communities. The “unity and cohesion of Indigenous communities”15 was undermined through colonial genocides such as the Indian Residential Schools. The settler society forced its values and beliefs on the Indigenous peoples, who were “deemed less than fully human”16 and in need of improvement. This contributed to the belief that Indigenous women held no value.17 The settler society where men were dominant figures and women lost status soon trickled into the Indigenous lives.18 The Indian Residential Schools were organized to assimilate Indigenous children into settler culture, operating from 1861 to 1984, targeting over 150,000 Indigenous children.19 The schools were advertised as places where children “would receive the care of a mother and an education that would prepare them for a life in modernizing Canada.”20 The lived experience of children at the IRS were far from the advertisements. Indigenous children were separated from their siblings,

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prohibited from speaking their native language and practicing their cultures traditions.21 The Indigenous children were psychologically, mentally, and sexually abused while at the schools.

The so-called modern education promised by the IRS instead was used to sever Indigenous children’s ties to their community and culture and as a “means to absorb them into a dominant society.”22 The IRS has resulted in intergenerational impacts and incomprehensible trauma.23 The family structure within settler societies traditionally tasked women and mothers with the expressive role; and men with the instrumental role.24 The dominant ideology of post-World War II motherhood valued the white middle-class mother who faced few negative socio-economic factors and lived to take care of her family.25 Mothers were expected to look after their children and “accept the responsibility of managing a household and building a happy home.”26 This ideology kept mothers in an unequal submissive position and “became the standard against which… those outside the ideal [such as Indigenous mothers]…were measured and judged.”27 The traditional role of Indigenous motherhood was looked down upon as it was far from the dominant ideology.28 The dominant ideology of motherhood during the mid-twentieth century contributed to the dismantling of Indigenous mothers’ traditional roles.

The government’s establishment of child welfare systems was an extension of the IRS and cultural genocide against the Indigenous peoples and in this case motherhood. The removal of children from Indigenous homes from the 1950s until the 1990s is an Mrs. Tom Johnson and baby, 1923, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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example of the patriarchal society’s assimilation of Indigenous communities and devaluation of Indigenous mothers. Mothers who fell into categories of the marginalized, impoverished, women of colour, etc. were targeted when they failed to live up to this ideal. They were considered unfit or bad mothers because they worked outside the home, were part of the public sphere, or had focuses other than their family. Ultimately these ‘bad mothers’ did not live up to the ideal of the middle-class white mother.29 Indigenous women have been marginalized because of their gender, race, and living conditions, leaving them more vulnerable to being labelled as unfit mothers, because they did not meet the standards of the dominant ideology of motherhood.30 The themes of discrimination, poverty and systemic barriers these mothers faced was not their fault. Yet that is what attracted the ‘concerns’ of the welfare systems. The child welfare systems were responsible for “the removal and institutionalization”31 of Indigenous children and the representation of Indigenous women as incapable in their roles as mothers.

The dominant patriarchal society placed its own concerns over those of the Indigenous peoples; this threatened children’s identity and ties to their culture.32 Even after Indigenous children were adopted and their mothers sought to regain custody, the voices of the Indigenous mothers were pushed aside.33 The child welfare systems and IRS rejected the traditional practices of Indigenous communities defining them as uncivilized and “inferior parenting.”34 The living conditions of Indigenous children were valued over their identity and culture. Instead of forcing the dominant colonized ideology of motherhood on Indigenous women, deeming them as unfit, then removing children from their homes, settler society could have supported the mothers, families, and communities, creating solutions to improve the conditions that viewed mothers as inadequate in their roles as the primary caregiver.35 In 1981, the Canadian Government gave authorization to First Nations and Métis communities to administer child welfare services.36 Indigenous child and family services focused on placing children with extended family, or Indigenous members of the community. This helped foster the child’s cultural and religious heritage. Since then agreements have been signed giving Indigenous communities the authority to provide child welfare services.37 The last decade has consisted of working towards the Sixties Scoop Class Action. The National Settlement between the Canadian Government and the Sixties Scoop Survivors was approved in 2018, which marked a step towards resolution and solace. The loss of Indigenous children’s cultural identity was traumatic, and the government failed to protect the children.38 The survivors who are referred to as ‘Eligible Class Members’ will receive compensation when their settlement is finalized. The details of the settlement and how it will proceed is still in the works. The story of the Sixties Scoop exemplifies the continuous entitlement of power that settler society has imposed on Indigenous peoples, especially Indigenous women. As a non-Indigenous person, I hope this article has amplified the Indigenous voices that have been belittled.

Grace K. English (she/her) Education major, Gender Studies minor

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FEATURE

Forced Femininity: Corsets and the Cultural Body Nineteenth-century dress reformers who worked to liberate women from the oppressive nature of the corset, with its rigid bodice, tightlacing, and vertical-diagonal boning, would be surprised to see that it has made its way back into women’s closets in 2020, showing that despite its conflicted past and reputation as being a garment that punished, oppressed, regulated, and sculpted the female body, women’s relationship to the corset is complicated and conflicted. Historically, the corset has idealized, hyper-feminized, and sexualized the female body.

At present, middle- and upperclass women are spending substantial sums of money on custom-made corsets, influenced by the hyper-sexualized bodies of pop stars, models, and media influencers embellishing them on social media. Melis Mulazimoglu Erkal writes that the conflict between the historically subversive nature of the corset and its contemporary approval can be demystified by feminist critic Naomi Wolf (The Beauty Myth, 2002). Quoting Wolf, Erkal explains that corsets, plastic surgery, diet, and extreme physical exercise show “that Western patriarchal culture still has a lot to shape and correct, [in] deciding what is beautiful, proper, and accepted and what is not.”1 Catherine de’ Medici is considered to be the first advocate of the corset in European courts.Courtesy Germain Le Mannier, www.flickr.com.

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The corset as an object of material culture has endured the passage of time. From the sixteenth-century French courts to the catwalks of Milan in the twenty-first century, its resurgence today is indicative of a lingering and pervasive western patriarchal ideology that continues to culture, control, and shape the female body. While women who enjoy wearing a corset today claim that it empowers them (they feel elegant, sexy, or beautiful), the social consequences of corsetry in the past effectively disempowered women both symbolically and physically, rendering them helpless, weak, and vulnerable. Although women today enjoy the freedom of fashion, and there are no obvious powers forcing them to wear corsets, many choose to wear them, thereby supporting an unnatural and unobtainable standard of beauty inherited from the past, a hyper-feminized and hyper-sexualized body with an hourglass shape, heaving bosom, and tiny waist.

While its origins are debatable, most historians agree that the ancient Greek Minoans wore belts and vests with leather straps to constrict and shape their waist, often exposing the woman’s breasts. These appeared to be the first corsets, which where tightly laced and worn by men, women, and children, to bind their waists.2 Erkal writes that as centuries evolved, the construction of femininity through dress “varied from one decade to another And [sic] so did the corset.”3 Corsets were a mainstream garment in the west from the sixteenth century until the early twentieth century, when they were replaced by girdles and bras. It was the sixteenth-century Queen Consort of France, Catherine de’ Medici, who first imposed corsetry on women. This is arguably the beginning of the divide where the western female body became fashioned and sensualized by the corset. Depending on the century, the corset accentuated or restricted various parts of a woman’s upper body.4 Catherine de’ Medici’s sixteenth-century corsets, like Queen Elizabeth I’s, were initially designed for better posture and to slim the waist, but the corset took off in popularity and became a mainstay through the next three centuries. Tudor Elizabethan corsets formed the idealized sixteenth-century conical or V-shaped ideal feminine image with a flat-front bodice and breasts peeking out over the top of the corset: “In England, the “Tudor Corset” utilized iron corset covers for both men and women, while France, Germany, and Italy preferred a less stiff style to eventuate a wider hip.

Queen Elizabeth I created the “Elizabethan Corset,” inspired by the Tudors, but with a less rigid (using whalebone) and emphasized waist.”5 The seventeenth-century corset was made mostly from linen and bones and was known for featuring a prominent bust and décolletage: “Exposing the breasts was regarded amongst the aristocracy and upper classes as a status symbol and a sign of beauty.”6 Period paintings reveal Queen Mary II of England with almost bare breasts.

Corset styles shifted to a long and naturally shaped, high-waisted stay in the late eighteenth century, reminiscent of the costumes worn by actresses in Jane Austen films. Dresses were loose with long waists, narrow backs, wide fronts, and shoulders straps that pulled the shoulders back so that the shoulder blades almost touched. Erkal explains, “The resulting silhouette, with shoulders thrown back, very erect posture and a high, full bosom, is characteristic of this period. The corsets often included tabs, formed by making cuts from the lower edge to the waistband that spread when on the body, giving hips more room and comfort.”7

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Lady wearing a corseted dress, Edwardian Period, blog.sfgate.com.

African American woman models a of late 19th-Century United State Collection, State Library and Arc

By mid-century the heavily boned, rigid corsets popularly associated with the historical corset became fashionable. Skirts were also full, embellishing the illusion of a smaller waist. Some of these corsets had over one hundred bones. With the invention of the front fastening busk in 1848 women were able to fasten their own corsets.8 The more constrictive nature of these nineteenth-century corsets represented the Victorian hourglass figure, with a tiny, synched in waistline achieved by tightlacing, which allegedly caused severe health problems because of compression on the stomach, liver, and ribs. Doctors claimed that women were at risk for organ failure, spinal deformity, cancer, liver disease, and even tuberculosis.9 Ross Pomeroy, a writer for Real Clear Science, says that the severe health effects of corsets were often exaggerated. He cites anthropologist Rebecca Gibson from the University of Notre Dame, who studied this period of corset wearing and claims that the most predominant health issues stemming from corset wearing included breathing issues, which prevented women from exercising, and atrophy of the mid and lower back muscles.10 Gibson analyzed the skeletons of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century women and said: “The average corseted waist size was 22 inches, which is positively tiny compared to the average female waist size in England or America today—roughly 32 to 35 inches. But consider that just fifty years ago, the average female waist size in the U.S. was a mere 24 to 25 inches. For women living in the Victorian era, squeezing into a corset would have been uncomfortable, but probably not torturous, suffocating, or debilitating”11 While this may be the case, the practice of extreme tightlacing is arguably ridiculous and unimaginable, especially from a twenty-first-century perspective. Émilie Marie Bouchau, a French singer and actress who was known for her extremely tight corset, reportedly had a waist that measured only 15 inches.

Watch images of Bouchau’s extreme corseting here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Byz0IAPxvS0.

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a typical corset fashioned dress es. Courtesy Alvan S. Harper chives of Florida Collection.

Lydia Sayer Hasbrouck, an American advocate for 19th Century dress reform wears a Bloomers outfit. Courtesy Edward Manning Ruttenber & L.H. Clark, History of Orange County.

Historian Ruth Goodman wanted to experience life as a Victorian, which meant living in a corset every day for one year. Her experience is presented in a documentary television series first shown on BBC in January 2009. The series recreated everyday life on a farm in Shropshire, England, in the 1880s, using authentic replica equipment and clothing. It was filmed at a preserved Victorian living museum and historic working farm. Goodman was joined by two archaeologists. Goodman’s book, How to be a Victorian, relates her experiences, saying that corsets weren’t restricted to middle- or upper-class women’s fashion. Whether you lived in an asylum, a prison, a workhouse, provisions for a corset were granted.12 Leigh Summers, a Victorian dress and costume historian, writes that “working-class women bought, were given, or made corsets, believing, as their middle-class sisters did, that corsetry supported the body and made the figure trim.”13 She adds that, although workingclass women wore corsets, they wore them differently than middle-class women. Workingclass women wore a looser fitting corset called a jump: “Jumps were designed to fit more loosely than standard corsets, which allowed the occupant enough mobility to work.”14 Goodman writes that Victorians held the sexist belief that women were the weaker of the two sexes and so their “womb and other reproductive organs made female midriffs more delicate and problematic.”15 While the corset was meant to support the midriff, Goodman says it actually caused women to lose muscle tone and therefore precipitated the need for support: “If such a woman left her corsets off for a day or so, she would probably find the lack of them disconcerting and tiring and would struggle with the floppiness of her middle regions.”16 She adds that the effects of wearing corsets every day weakened a woman’s abdominal area to such a degree that “they cannot sit upright without them” and “are compelled to wear night stays when in bed.”17 27

X-Ray showing damage to the last ribs, 1908.

Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Image showing impact of the corset on a woman’s organs.

Surprisingly, Goodman says that the corsets of the 1840s and 1850s were comfortable because they were often homemade.

Having worn them, she says, “A lightly boned, corded corset like this is a very easy thing to wear, more comfortable, in my opinion, than the underwired bras of the twenty-first century.”18 Discomfort and problems with the corset arose in the late 1850s when fashionable society popularized the small waist, so women turned to professionally and factory-made corsets that were more rigid.

“This was the age of the corset horror story,” Goodman writes. A diary from a fifteen-year-old girl at a boarding school details the painstaking process of shrinking her waist until it was only thirteen inches. Goodman puts things into perspective for the reader, saying that a toddler’s waist measures somewhere around twenty inches. To achieve such minute waist sizes, some women replaced regular meals with tiny meals throughout the day. Still, this was the extreme: “The vast majority of surviving Victorian corsets and outer clothes of this period are nothing like so small in the waist.

Nineteen to 24 inches is the common range for fashionable young women’s clothing with clothing for older women usually rising by several inches.”19

Addressing the comfort of the corset, Goodman says that because she is “corpulent” she believes it is easier for her to pinch her waist in, without discomfort, by about two inches. She notes this would be challenging for women who are slim. She adds that trying to pinch four inches is difficult.20 She writes that the problems she experienced from wearing a corset for an extended time surprised her: “The most immediate was trouble with my skin […]. It was worst when I had been hot and then cooled down, as the sweat left salt on my skin, which then rubbed. This could be agony.”21 The other issue Goodman said she faced was losing her voice on account of breathing entirely into her upper ribcage.

The biggest problem with wearing a corset, however, was its deformation of her lower ribcage: “At the end of the day, when I took off my corset, there was always a strange moment—an odd sensation when everything tried to return to its natural shape. I felt my ribcage re-inflating, which took a rather disconcerting five or six seconds.”22 Ultimately, the corset was an uncomfortable, deforming, and restrictive garment. However, its oppressive nature extended far beyond its sculpting of and damage to the physical body.

Criticism of it entered the political arena as well, when first-wave feminists began supporting the women’s dress reform movement closer to the end of the century. According to historian Robert E. Riegel, they attacked women’s dress in general, claiming it was

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subservient to the sexual whims of men: “Traditional dress, they said, was that of the female slave who served and pampered her male master, and who catered to his sensual grossness by titillating his passions. Only with rational dress could pure womanhood free herself from thralldom, attain health and vigor and compete equally with men in all activities.”23 Nineteenth-century dress reformers were mostly middle-class women involved in the first wave of feminism in the west from the 1850s to the 1890s. They also advocated for women’s education, suffrage, and temperance. They believed in a more rational, or practical, way of dressing and were also influential in persuading women to adopt simplified garments for athletic activities such as bicycling or swimming.24 Not just criticizing traditional fashion, dress reformers proposed solutions, such as bloomers.

Invented by Elizabeth Smith Miller and endorsed by Amelia Bloomer in her temperance magazine, The Lily, bloomers were considered rational and comfortable dress. The whole bloomer outfit consisted of a short jacket (which could be worn with or without a corset), a shorter skirt extending below the knee, and loose and puffy pants that gathered at the ankles. Public reaction to bloomers was mixed: “Conservatives wept at how women lost mystery and attractiveness as they discarded their flowing robes, and moaned that women were desexing themselves […].”25 Bloomers were also ridiculed by the public: “The spectacle of bifurcated garments for women also inspired almost universal craning of necks, surprised whistles and semi-humorous, audible comments which confused and embarrassed the fair reformers.”26 29

The dress reform movement saw its slow demise in the United States in the late 1890s.

According to Riegel it seemed women were no longer in need of dress reform: “Many women were wearing shorter skirts, particularly for walking. Gymnasium bloomers were widely accepted for exercise, particularly indoors.”27 However, Riegel also points out, the popularized and corseted Gibson Girl suggests that existing reforms were being exaggerated. The Gibson Girl symbolized the new feminine ideal in the 1890s, as depicted by artist, Charles Gibson Dana. The Gibson Girl was educated, independent, married, and romantic—and she wore a corset.

Today, corsets are worn usually as a single piece on top of clothing instead of beneath it.

Wearing a corset today is purportedly about fantasy and exoticism, a subculture of fashion that hyper-feminizes and sexualizes the female body. Social media influencer Kim Kardashian has fueled the corset craze with her constructed hourglass shape that young women are seen trying to emulate across social media. On Instagram, she promotes waist trainers that help achieve a smaller waist over time.

Fashion influencer, Kim Kardashian, sells latex, sports waist trainers online. Four to six hours a day is the suggested amount of time you should wear a waist trainer for its full benefits.

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Melanie Talkington of Lace Embrace Atelier specializes in custom made corsetry in Vancouver, British Columbia. Photo Courtesy The Edmonton Journal.

Melanie Talkington of Lace Embrace Atelier in Vancouver, British Columbia, sees the corset today as an accessory of beauty with health benefits: “People have noticed weight loss, improved posture, less back pain, and improved self-esteem from a corset.” Notably, most women in the twenty-first century do not wear corsets every day, all day, as women in the nineteenth century did. Talkington warns that inexpensive or mass-produced corsets will be uncomfortable as they “sausage” the body and pinch the ribs and hips. She defends her industry by saying, “We don’t need to try to dress in a masculine manner to prove ourselves, and we can enjoy being feminine and powerful.”

Reflecting on the history of the corset and its return to fashion in the twenty-first century, why are women still artificially constructing their bodies to fit unnatural, celebrity endorsed, beauty industry ideals, and how does a flatter stomach and smaller waist make one more feminine and powerful? If anything, it makes a woman weaker because she can’t breathe, run, or move properly, rendering her helpless and weak and vulnerable to outside control.

If the corset was historically designed and worn with the idea that women are the weaker vessel, then perhaps women are still being subverted into believing that the female body is inherently weak and needs support to correct its supposed flawed nature.

Dana Graham Lai (she/her) MA English Literature MAIH program (general stream)

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The Domestic Phenomenon of the Eighteenth Century Over the centuries, gender and musical instruments have been a topic of tremendous discourse. One of the earliest examples of this discussion can be found in The Courtier’s Book

by Baldassare Castiglione: “and thus in dancing I would not see her use too active and violent movements, nor in singing or playing those abrupt and oft-repeated diminutions which show more skill than sweetness; likewise, the musical instruments that she uses ought, in my opinion, to be appropriate to this intent. Imagine how unlovely it would be to see a woman play drums, fifes or trumpets or other like instruments; and this because of their harshness hides and destroys that mild gentleness which so adorns every act a woman does.”1 These words are a true reflection of the times they were written in (1528), right through to the eighteenth century. The instrument deemed appropriate for women of the eighteenth century was the pianoforte.

In the early 1700s, the Italian harpsichord inventor Bartolomeo Cristofori wanted to create an instrument that would have superior finger response and sound. He called the instrument the gravicembalo col piano e forte (harpsichord that plays soft and loud). Cristofori replaced the plectra (which plucked the strings of a harpsichord) with felt tipped wooden hammers, which strike the strings according to the pressure given by the player. This made the instrument more versatile by enabling the instrument to produce more sounds and dynamic variations. In 1768, Johann Christian Bach played the first public performance on the pianoforte. During this time, the pianoforte became more popular for both singers and, due to the advancements (such as pedals and hammers), within the female domestic scene.

Women’s musical accomplishments reflected a family’s gentility. They demonstrated that the family had the time for leisure activities and that they could afford an instrument, along with private lessons.

Keyboard instruments, such as the pianoforte, were the most suitable for eighteenth-century ladies. English dance choreographer John Essex declared in 1721 that “the harpsichord, spinet, lute and base violin, are instruments most agreeable to the Ladies: There are some others [that] are unbecoming the Fair Sex; as the Flute, Violin and Hautboy; the last of which is took Manlike and would look indecent in a Woman’s Mouth; and the flute is very improper, as taking away too much of the Juices, which are otherwise more necessarily employ[e]d, to promote the Appetite, ad assist Digestion.”2 In this instance the term ‘juices’ refers to

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a woman’s saliva. However, it was philologist and composer Carl Ludwig Junker, in Vom Kostüm des Frauenzimmer Spielens who identified most forthrightly which instruments were proper for ladies to play and which were not. Junker was especially opposed to women playing the horn, cello, and bass. Junker’s four main criteria to support his view were the shape and form of a women’s physical body while playing an instrument, their chosen fashion while playing, the instrument’s sound in comparison to the character of women and the inappropriateness of certain postures required for instruments. The piano met his requirements.3 The performer was not required to turn their body into an ‘unnatural’ position, nor move it in a way that might suggest that they were unvirtuous. A lady could sit with her legs together, face peaceful, with fingers stretched out and pressing down on the keys, while the mechanics of the instrument (which were invisible to the lady’s audience) produced the sound.

Unlike other genteel women’s activities like needlework, upper class society viewed the cultivation of music favourably because “it could be shown off best while actually, being accomplished” gracefully and effortlessly.4 Demonstrating one’s ability at the piano also permitted interaction with men in a socially acceptable and respectable environment.

According to Jean-Jacques Rousseau, eighteenth-century women learned the pianoforte for enjoyment, beauty, and morality.5 Composers and music publishers of the eighteenth century produced pianoforte scores such as sonatas, rondos, variations, and minuets for amateur female musicians to play and understand. These pieces were meant to sound simple and highlight the female musicians’ technical accomplishments.

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Within the setting of one’s home a lady could entertain her relations, but if she happened to be single, there could be an ulterior motive for inviting guests who were not relations.

These meetings could lead to marriage. Pianofortes were often given as wedding gifts to couples. For a man to turn pages for a lady or to play a four-hand composition with her was an intimate form of communication and romance.6 Although women were encouraged to participate in small chamber performances within the home, they were not permitted to perform professionally as instrumentalists. It was believed that women who performed in front of men in order to earn an income presented themselves as courtesans. Despite this, socially successful women were expected to be present in the audience of public concerts. Advertisements for concerts encouraged women to attend as demonstrated in this poem for a benefit concert in Paris on 25 March 1781:

To the Ladies.

Charming sex, whom I seek to please, Come embellish the abode of our talents; By your presence warm up my accents: Just one of your looks brings me to life and light me up.

Eh! What does it matter to me, this much vaunted Laurel With which genius is crowned, This seal of immortality, If it is not Beauty who gives it.

- BRH & JPB7

The pianoforte was a significant cultural domestic phenomenon of the eighteenth century.

The instrument was located within the home specifically to entertain a family’s guests, and assist in forming connections between families through marriage, in a socially acceptable manner. Ultimately, the female pianist became a symbol of a harmonious, financially thriving, and cultured home.

Hanna-marie Gazso (she/her) Double major in History and Music

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Albanian Burrnesha: From Girls to Men In the 1400s in the mountains of Albania a tradition began to be practiced where young women and girls chose to live as men; these individuals are known as burrnesha. Laws in the Balkans were based on a system called Kanun, a set of laws that dictated legal and societal norms.1 Though Albanian law does not follow the Kanun closely, “the importance of the Kanun to the ordinary life of the Albanians of Kosvoa and Matësi can hardly be exaggerated […] It still influences the entire area.”2 The Kanun dealt with things such as landownership, debt settlement, conflicts, the role of the church, family, and honour. In Albanian culture, honour remains at the heart of family structures. Within this system only men could own or inherit land, travel long distances, carry a gun or handle finances; the Kanun made no exceptions for widows or unwed women to take care of themselves. In this system, women were effectively property. This is evident in the tradition of a father giving a symbolic cartridge to his new son-in-law to use on his new bride if she was unhospitable or adulterous.

Given the potential for brutality many girls would choose to take the oath to become burrnesha.3 The modern burrnesha do not share such dramatic reasons for taking the oath; most mention the lack of boys in their family or their desire to live as a man. Once the oath is taken in front of twelve elders in either the local church or mosque, these young people cut their hair short, adopt male names and clothes, and spend hours with older men learning their masculine mannerisms.4 Once taken, the oath gives them the legal status of a man. From the point of taking their oath, burrnesha men are men in every legal and social way. There are still burrnesha living in Albania today, but the consensus is that this practice will continue to die out as women gain more rights throughout Albania.

Within the current view of gender as a spectrum, it is difficult to categorize burrnesha, because they do not fit comfortably within the gender binary. Third-gender identities are understandings of gender that exist outside of the binary, when it is difficult to categorize a person or practice to solely male or female.

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Typically, a colonized culture’s distinct way of addressing gender nonconforming people or queer people becomes classified as a third gender in western scholarship. This is how most western scholars describe burrnesha. Understanding gender is difficult because identities develop without interference from scholars but then gender theory must attempt to categorize people based on existing structures. This is a major complication in scholarship of burrnesha as is seen in existing work documenting burrnesha that repeatedly misgenders them by insisting on using female pronouns, sometimes in the same sentence as an acknowledgement that burrnesha themselves use male pronouns.

Jeta Luboteni, an Albanian writer and burrnesha themselves, highlights this issue saying that feminist discussions of the practice focus too much on the role of the patriarchy, to the point of mourning the loss of the feminine, they do “not mourn the burrnesha themselves, but they mourn the female.”5 If patriarchy is centered in discussions of burrnesha then it makes sense to see the slow disappearance of burrnesha as a natural end to an archaic practice, but this is not what burrnesha themselves focus on. When interviewed, burrnesha are largely happy with their lives. They discuss how proud they are to have been able to help their families, or how comfortable or correct their gender is to them. Burrnesha do not victimize themselves, so why is western scholarship so insistent on doing so on their behalf?

Given the circumstances associated with becoming burrnesha it would be easy to see burrnesha as victims of their culture forced into an impossible choice, but Jeta Luboteni, says that this is harmful and reduces these men’s autonomy.6 “In my heart and soul I feel like a man, I am very happy I chose this way and I will live it with pleasure until my last breath” says Bedrie Gosturani, who chose to take the vow as a child.7 The burrnesha interviewed all agree on this point; it is an honour to live as burrnesha.

Victoria Spencer (she/her) Political Science major

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Hua Mulan A Legend of a Cross Dressing Warrior The story of the fictional character Hua Mulan is well-known in western culture after it was brought to life by the Disney franchise. The legend of this heroine originatein China around 400 A.D., during a time of war. The original text of the legend does not specify the war nor Mulan’s adversary. The legend tells of a girl who took her father’s place when he had been conscripted.1 Mulan transitioned from woman to man in order to become a soldier.2 She released her foot bindings and sacrificed her most treasured womanly traits to answer to the higher purpose.3 She was motivated by a need to protect her father and a desire to bring honour to her family.4 In her twelve years at war, Mulan became a highly ranked soldier and fought in some decisive battles.5 Her heroism led to her being offered a prominent position, but she turned it down to keep her gender identity a secret.6 Eventually light was shed on the part she had been playing, her comrades were shocked to discover she was a woman, an identity that she had hidden well.7 This legend impacted the history China and continues to impact us today. The implications of Mulan’s story in China can be seen in the last line of The Ballad of Mulan which reads: “When a pair of rabbits run side by side, who can distinguish male from female?”8 This line describes the gender equality Mulan acted on by going to war, 38

and draws attention to the fact that she was able to play the part of a man perfectly, allowing her to rise through the ranks as an equal. This raises the question of the differences between men and women, and whether those differences are social constructions or biological imperatives. The very existence and popularity of the ballad is a testament to the public acknowledgment of strong female figures who challenge traditional roles.9 Today this story is told to children everywhere, reminding them that they can be whatever they want regardless of their gender identity. It shows that women can be heroes and considered among the ranks of men in foundational legends. Mulan has become an inspiration and a testament for the strength that is inside every woman.

Madeleine Wilk (she/her) Education major

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Billy Tipton The Musical Flow of Gender

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Billy Tipton (1914–1989) was an American Jazz musician and band leader.

Assigned as female at birth and named born Dorothy Tipton, when he died in 1989 no one, including his family, was aware of his biological sex. Billy Tipton assumed a male gender identity in order to advance his career as a jazz musician. As a man he was able to achieve financial independence and fame, which forced him to continue his life as a man in order to make it in a world dominated by men.1 As Dinitia Smith says, “To pass as a man, Dorothy bound her breasts with Ace bandages and wore a prosthetic device. Later, she would tell people that she wore the bandages because of a childhood accident in which her ribs were broken.”2 Billy Tipton became a very successful musician and performed as a singer, pianist, and saxophonist.3 Later in his career he also worked as an actor and a comedian, he even took roles that involved him being a woman, a case of double-cross dressing.4 It was not until after his death that his children, wife, and the world discovered his assigned sex.5 Tipton had gone almost his entire life with no one discovering his sex, even his previous five wives and sexual partners were none the wiser.6 Billy Tipton became a fascination of the world. Marilyn Jurich suggests that it is impossible to know whether Tipton was born in the wrong body, or if “perhaps she discovered that he was more identical to who she actually was.”7 Billy Tipton has earned his place as “an emblem for the current fascination with gender.”8 He along with so many others, challenged the ideas of gender and sex and his story asks the question of whether gender is social construct. Living as a man allowed Billy Tipton to find employment and gave him the social power given to men. This power proved difficult to give up.9 Tipton’s story reminds us that gender differences are a function of how individuals present themselves and how others interpret that presentation.

Madeleine Wilk (she/her) Education major

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Isabelle Eberhardt Gender Unveiled Isabelle Eberhardt (1877–1904) took on a gender to unveil the world of Arab men. Isabelle was born in Switzerland. In the first few years of her life, she lived as a girl, periodically dressing as a boy, something her father did not discourage.1 In fact, Isabelle was raised as a boy, whether this was her choice, or her father’s is unknown.2 Her upbringing as male may have been due to the inferior position of women in Switzerland and the challenge of getting ahead as a woman.3 It is unclear whether she identified as a transgender man, or if she expressed a masculine gender to make her way through the world.4 What we do know is that she wanted a male partner as she eventually settled down with Slimane Ehnni.5 In May 1897 Isabelle and her mother relocated to Algeria, where she converted to Islam, began dressing as a man all the time, and changed her name to Si Mahmoud Saadi.6 In Algeria at that time, women were not allowed to go outside of the home alone, be unveiled, or take part in many activities.7 Some historians, such as Dipanjana Mukherjee, argue that Eberhardt’s conversion to Islam was a reluctant formality, a way to infiltrate the world of Arabic men.8 Other historians argue that she believed that she had been born a Muslim all along and that there was no conversion at all, and that the male role was where she felt most at home.9 Regardless of her motivation, acting as a man allowed her pursue work as a journalist and, as an Arab man, she published a plethora of stories in newspapers in France that discussed her experiences in Muslim territory.10 She was one of the first Western writers to describe the life of an Islamic person from personal experience.11 French colonizers in Algeria did not take her masculine identity lightly. They feared that she was a spy because of the peculiarity of her behaviour and demeanor.12 They asked her why she portrayed herself as a man, she informed them that it was impossible for her to do her work without doing so, an answer that the French military did not expect.13 Eventually, to appease the French colonists’ unease of her gender expression, she married an Algerian soldier and eventually she fell madly in love with him.14 It was Slimane Ehnni with whom she felt secure enough to take on the feminine role, and together they embarked upon a multitude of adventures traversing the desert.15 Despite her efforts to conform to the what the French wanted her to be, disdain continued to follow her until finally an attempt was made on her life.16 Her assassin declared that he was acting for the glory of Allah; others strongly suspected that is was the French who tried to kill her. Soon after the attempt on her life, she was exiled by the French under the premise of her own protection and security.17 Isabelle Eberhart challenged established gender roles of her era. Her success as an explorer and an author in a male-dominated world showed that individuals cannot be reduced to a binary understanding of their assigned gender.18 Her story caused others to re-examine and question the gender dynamics that had been in play up until this place.

Madeleine Wilk (she/her) Education major

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Marsha Johnson The People’s Queen Marsha P. Johnson (1945–1992) was a transgender woman, drag queen, and outspoken activist for gay rights, most well-known for her prominence in the 1969 Stonewall uprising.

Born in New Jersey and assigned male at birth, Johnson’s parents named him Malcolm Michaels. Marsha felt wrong in the gender she was assigned to and felt most at home in herself as a woman. It was not until she graduated from high-school and moved to New York that she began to identify more as a drag queen. She was chastised for this her entire life.

As a woman, Marsha was a devout Christian who spent her life spreading the Gospel and giving back to her community. She fed, clothed, and gave to those needier than she, an impressive feat as her own financial circumstances were unstable. She worked hard throughout her life to end homelessness and serve others in the name of Jesus. She was described as “quick-witted and fast with her blade and tongue, she was known for her ability to rise above the foolish, nonbelievers, and dangerous folks who attempted to harm her or those in the communities she held dear.”1 She worked as a preforming artist and as a sex worker.

Johnson was the transgender pioneer of the Stonewall Riots. In 1969 she was at the Stonewall Inn on Christopher St in New York when a state-sanctioned police raid broke out.

The police raided the inn intending to commit violence against the gay community and to enforce biologically assigned gender. The police were targeting drag queens and butch lesbians because of their rejection of the hegemonic gender roles. The residents of the Stonewall Inn were all lined up and gender checks were performed by the police; anyone found to be presenting a gender not in accordance with their designated sex were arrested, beaten, and dragged out into the street. Marsha was outraged by the raid and fought back.

She threw down a glass and called out for the freedom to be herself and her right to safety.

She started this movement to protect herself and others from homophobic violence. She was a key organizer in the fight against injustice toward the Queer community. Marsha was hated and discriminated against by those seeking to uphold the status quo for being genderqueer, black, and gay. She faced violence and homophobia for most of her life and was made to not feel safe. In 1992, she was murdered in 1992 and her body was thrown into the Hudson River in New York. After a short, half-hearted investigation, police ruled her death a suicide.

Marsha Johnson provided the framework and infrastructure for the advocacy of LGBTQIA+ in our modern world. She was unwilling to be silent in the face of abuse that she and others like her faced on a daily basis. She was not afraid of her gender identity or her sexual orientation.

Despite lacking the money for more luxurious drag, she is remembered as the “people’s queen,” a woman who represented the hardships of the LGBTQIA+ community.2 Madeleine Wilk (she/her) Education major

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FEATURE

What a Tangled Web We Weave: The Children of Colonization Colonial powers have often formed sexual relationships with colonized peoples in order to strengthen their domination of colonized lands. Colonization did not limit itself to occupation and settlement of land and physical space, but extended in varying forms to the subjection of cultures, languages, and peoples. Critical analysis of colonialism requires assessment of the degree to which settlers colonized the bodies of the peoples who occupied colonized spaces. Sexual relationships (whether consensual or not) between the colonizers and colonized were often constructed, restricted, and rendered in ways that propped up colonial hegemony and reinforced colonial systems. ‘Miscegenation’, or mixed-race relationships, affected those in the relationships and their communities, as well as the offspring of these relationships. The ‘mixed-race’ children of colonizers and colonized peoples were subject to unique and varying experiences that reflected the attitudes of a particular colonial society towards race and racial hierarchy. This is evident in the experiences of the children of Spanish, French, and British colonization in South America, Indochina, and Africa.

Spanish America and the 1789 Court Case of Dona Margarita Castaneda Spanish America offers an interesting example of European settlers’ colonial categorization of space and people.1 The 1789 court case of Spanish woman, Dona Margarita Castaneda, reveals the place of mixed-race individuals in this colonial society.2 Castaneda’s birth was mistakenly recorded in the baptismal records of mixed-blooded people (libra de castas) instead of the book of Spaniards (libro de espanoles).3 When Castaneda married, her husband went to court to have her declared a ‘true’ Spaniard, so that her offspring would not be ‘tainted’ by racial impurity.4 This was important in New Spain in the late eighteenth century, because ancestry documents of parents and grandparents were required for entrance into universities, guilds, noble orders, and other social organizations, and legitimate inheritance.5 The court did not examine Castaneda’s physical characteristics, rather they used testimonies and interviews to assess her ‘social body’.6 These statements indicate that Spanish identity was neither fixed nor defined by physical characteristics, such as skin colour. None of the four witnesses in the case spoke of Castaneda’s physical traits, but they focused on her conduct as a Spaniard.7 Only full-blooded Spaniards had access to the clothing, jewelry, and associations Castaneda claimed.8 Further, her accent was interpreted as revealing no mixed heritage.9 Thus, categorization in the multiple castes of New Spain was not a function of skin colour.10 One’s caste was a function of one’s social body, occupation, wealth, purity of blood, integrity, and place of origin.11

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Spanish American Casta Paintings The Spanish clearly defined the castes of new Spain. Although they were not based entirely on racial characteristics, attitudes about race are evident in the ways miscegenation was represented in Casta paintings.12 These paintings, mostly from eighteenth-century Mexico, depicted racial mixing in colonial Spanish America.13 They conveyed discourses of power and status in the Spanish empire.14 Susan Deans-Smith suggests that “the colonial subject was portrayed as a racially mixed but productive cog in Spain’s imperial machine,”15 which viewers criticized, admired, or distrusted.16 The different ‘racial mixtures’ of the paintings — Spanish-indigenous (‘mestizos’), Spanish-black (‘mulattoes’), black-indigenous— were most often presented as a man, a woman, and a child in sectioned off groupings.17 Those depicted were often not separated by ‘race’ but by the occupations associated with that ‘race’.18 Spanish men were most commonly depicted as professionals, merchants, or men of leisure; black individuals and ‘mulattoes’ were shown as coachmen; indigenous individuals were shown as food vendors; mestizos as tailors, shoemakers, and masons; and ‘mulattoes’ and mestizas were presented as cooks or spinners.19 Overall, the paintings functioned as an aestheticization and idealization of subordinate peoples, Christobäl Lozano, Nº 4. Mestizo. Mestiza. Mestiza., ca. 1771–1776, oil on canvas, emphasizing productive Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. labour, consumption, and commerce in New Spain where “the new generations of colonial subjects — the children — [were] the future of the Spanish Empire.”20

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Miguel Cabrera, De español y mulata, morisca, ca. 1763, oil on canvas, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Miscegenation and escalating political conflict in Spanish American colonies was reinvented and represented as an orderly, idealized, colonial society.21 Some colonial authorities who saw the paintings noted the importance of marking racial differences and hierarchy with portrayals of subject peoples as productive, civilized, educated and employed, overcoming their ‘natural’ inclinations towards vice, idleness, and inferiority.22 Others saw the paintings as slanderous and defamatory towards the ‘white race’, and examples of the dangers of muddying the waters of racial purity.23 Today the paintings act as powerful reminders of unequal colonial relationships, especially evident in ‘racial mixing’, racial hierarchy, and “Spain’s ability to shape representations of its colonial subjects.”24

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Abandonment and Child Removal in French West Africa and Indochina French colonialism, specifically in West Africa and Indochina, also reflects specific ideas about miscegena was that race was a biologically determined characteristic, but despite perceived divisions of humanity in This was most often motivated by economic or social benefits for the white minority.26 For the French, an elevating the entire population quality.27 Historian Alice Conkin notes that, although these views had less prevented from going to the colonies and engaging in relationships and metissage (‘cross-breeding’) wit is important to note, however, that as a whole most fathers did not recognize or register their children, o upon returning to France and their French families.30 Even if love factored into the relationship, fathers co connotations of colonization.31

The French state perceived a responsibility to these “morally abandoned” métis children they saw as orp security, the French government undertook to ‘civilize’ and educate these abandoned children.33 The Fre patriotic, not to mention humane, to take the hands of our miserable children, to raise them in national e patrie.”34 Many French colonial communities opened separate schools for métis children, and offered op

From 1870 to 1975 in French Indochina, the colonial government and non-governmental charities remov their mothers again, and were culturally isolated as the French government attempted to transform them population, but to bolster the white population through ‘civilizing’ the children and placing them in elite consent before taking the children.39 French authorities offered stipends as support, but ultimately forcef

As in Canada, the United States, and Australia, in Indochina some mothers “consented to sending their c wanted their children to have what they perceived as high quality care, an elite education, and social priv thought that they would be able to get their children back if they changed their minds.43 Often, the resul opportunities, and time at summer camps, all part of the grooming process to place them as loyal coloni world.

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ation that affected the treatment and reception of mixed-race offspring. The French colonial conception nto separate species, many French polygenists advocated for intermarriage in certain circumstances.25 n idea persisted that it was possible for the ‘superior’ white blood to overpower the lesser blood, sened by the 1870s and mixed populations were viewed with aversion, French men were never th the native women while there (especially if there was a lack of European women in the colonies).28 It often depriving them of citizenship and legal status.29 Most fathers abandoned the mothers and children ontinued to see themselves as colonists and thus relationships were permeated by racial and power

phaned, unrecognized, and abandoned to their maternal families.32 Perceived as a threat to colonial ench Society for the Protection of Mixed Race Children articulated their sense of duty in 1910: “It is environment, inculcate in them the love and respect for our dear France… and the defence of the pportunities for graduates in colonial administration.35

ved, by force or persuasion, over 4,000 fatherless mixed-race children.36 These children often never saw m into French colonists.37 As in other French colonies, this removal was not to eliminate the mixed-race colonial positions.38 These removals were not forceful at first, as French authorities wanted maternal ful removal was determined necessary for the ‘good’ of the children.40

children to institutions while many others vehemently resisted.”41 The mothers that consented merely vileges that they were not able to offer from their own position in the colonial hierarchy.42 Many often lt was that children were put into the elite schools alongside white French children, given middle class ial officials.44 If the children embraced their fathers ‘whiteness’, they could move up in the colonial

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The Antebellum Southern United States In the Antebellum South of the United States, interracial relationships and mixed-race children were seen and treated much differently than mixed-race offspring in Spanish America, French Indochina, and West Africa. The primary concern for Americans was the white-black relationship, with the greatest taboo being a relationship that produced ‘mulattoes’ and threatened the colour line.45 An 1860 census suggests ‘mulattoes’ consisted of 10.4 percent of the slave population, and 36.2 percent of the free black population.46 This number may have had a large margin of error, however, as census takers had no definitive criteria to distinguish mixed-race identity.47 Traveler’s accounts suggest that these numbers could have been much higher; Alexis de Tocqueville notes after his 1831 and 1832 visits that “In some parts of American, the European and negro races are so crossed by one another that it is rare to meet with a man who is entirely black, or entirely white.”48 It is likely that mixed-race individuals were more concentrated in cities than in planation districts, however.49 Antebellum life paid special attention to ‘mulattoes’, and often a marked bias was expressed favouring mixed-race individuals over black slave.50 Many accounts refer to mixed-race people being preferred as house servants and plantation tradesmen, and being given better educational opportunities, food, clothing, shelter, and freedom of movement.51 Traveler’s accounts describe

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“handsome little mulatto boys” and “beautiful quadroon girls,” and suggestions that white fathers had given the children charm and intelligence, while their mothers gave them good physical structure.52 Many affirmed, however, that no matter how attractive or smart the ‘mulattoes’ were, they would never be considered equal to the ‘pure-blooded’ white.53 These mixed-race children were seen as threats to the slave system and dangerous reminders of the oppressiveness of slavery.54 Mulattoes were constant reminder of miscegenation, despite the fact that “white men [exploiting] black women… was the ugly reality.”55

François Bernard, Group Portrait of Creole Children, 1872, oil on canvas, New Orleans, https://louisianadigitallibrary.org/islandora/object/hnoc-lph:419.

Thomas Jefferson himself had a ‘shadow family’ with Sally Hemings, a mixed-race woman who was one of his slaves, yet he himself saw race-mixing as a threat to society.56 In an 1814 letter, he writes “the amalgamation of whites with black produces a degradation to which no lover of his country, no lover of excellence in the human character can innocently consent.”57 There was a general fear that the American system of slavery could not handle a sliding scale of colour prejudice, and required a rigid colour dichotomy to maintain its colonial power.58 Fathers of mixed-race children rarely acknowledged their mixed race children or relationships, Jefferson included, preserving notions of white family perfection in spite of obvious evidence.59 Sometimes, mixed-race slave children were freed by their fathers, but without recognition of their parentage.60 The legal system forced enslaved mixed-race children to minimize or deny their black mothers if they wanted to claim rights through their fathers wills (if they were even included in it), by presenting themselves as if they had no other parent.61 Further, despite rare occasions of so-called ‘heroism’ by fathers including their mixed-race children in their wills, each act was “infused with the villainy of slavery.”62 Could there even have been consenting mothers when they were slave and slave owner, in a condition of extreme domination based on race and gender? Once freed, most children lost all connection with their fathers, and encountered extreme difficulties, discrimination, and rejection in both black and white communities.

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“Mulatto ex-slave in her house near Greensboro, Alabama, May 1941.”

Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Photographs and Prints Division, The New York Public Library, Fair use.

Canada’s Métis Children and the Residential School System Canada’s colonial history holds unique experiences of non-white and multiracial individuals that reflect wider colonial attitudes of the period. Early on, French experiences with race and race mixture resulted in French missionaries and other colonial representatives being encouraged to intermarry with the Indigenous peoples of Canada, influenced by the colonial desire to tap into local knowledge, expertise, and access to the fur trade.63 Through this, their metis children served as integral go-betweens, as “children of the fur trade.”64 Metis women especially were especially essential to the fur trade, being sought after as marriage partners for fur trade managers because of their close relationships with local First Nations and Metis communities.65 54

As colonizers increased their hostility, exploitation, and aggression, the Indigenous populations began to be seen more as ‘threats’ to the settlers, whose goal was to dispossess the Indigenous peoples of their lands. Networks of residential schools in Canada were set up in efforts to assimilate indigenous Canadians through generational eradication of culture and language through schooling.66 In an 1879 report for the Canadian government, Nicholas Flood Davin proposed that individuals of mixed descent could play a central role as “the natural mediator between the Government and the red man, and… his natural instructor.”67 Although there was opposition for the inclusion of metis children in the established residential school system, as they had not been included in the Indian Act, some argued that they should be admitted “so that they should not grow up upon reserves an uneducated and barbarous class.”68

Mixed Blood Fur Trader, ca. 1870, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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J.F. Moran, Two Metis Children with an Inuit Child at All Saints Residential School Shingle Point, Yukon, 1930, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada asserts that there was no single experience of métis or ‘half-blood’ children in residential schools, but often these children felt discriminated against by the other, ‘full-blooded’ students.69 One mother recalled, “My kids, they didn’t like school because they were mistreated. Probably because they were halfbreeds. They would laugh at them and things like that.”70 One man, Raphael Ironstand, recounts his experience being bullied for his ancestry in a Manitoba residential school: “The Crees surrounded me, staring at me with hatred in their eyes, as again they called me ‘Monias,’ while telling me the school was for Indians only. I tried to tell them I was not a Monias, which I now knew meant white man, but a real Indian. That triggered their attack, in unison. I was kicked, punched, bitten, and my hair was pulled out by the roots. My clothes were also shredded, but the Crees suddenly disappeared, leaving me lying on the ground, bleeding and bruised.”71

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission emphasizes the importance of remembering the métis experience in residential schools, which is often overlooked.72 Although Canadian Federal government policy was never consistent concerning métis children, they were often rejected by their peers in the residential school system and also by the white colonial community and administration as a whole, who saw them as a threat to Eurocentric ideas of racial and cultural superiority that had to be neutralized.73

Colonialism’s Children - A Global Phenomena These stories and experiences of mixed-race children of colonialism are only a short glimpse of a larger picture of colonial authorities’ use of children as currency to be circulated in families, institutions, and social structures.74 The struggles of these mixed-race individuals in gaining acceptance and community within their multiple heritages, yet often never receiving complete integration in either, reflects racial attitudes and hierarchies that persisted throughout the colonial era, even today. Further examples of colonialism’s children include Australia’s ‘stolen generations’, Anglo-Indians, multiracial communities in the Caribbean, Amerasians of Vietnam, and more. Colonial governments used child removal as a strategy of governance and addressing political and demographic dilemmas.75 Whatever the aims and motivations of different colonial administrations, the upbringing of mixed-race children was a “priority through which [colonial authorities] sought to manage colonial subjects and shape and maintain the social order.”76 It is crucial to remember these children who in their mere existence shaped and challenged colonialism’s racialized social structures.

Alyssa M. Broadbent (she/her) History major, Sociology concentration

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Speaking of They: Colonized Two-Spirit Bodies

“reclamation!”

two-spirit hallucinations gender and sexual diversity across reservations consent and invitation self-love, respect and transformations dreams of colonial healing bringing back a flood of feelings cleansing, replenishing memories of believing refreshing, reviving ways of seeing decolonial sex, love and rock & roll light up that sage bowl let’s lose control shapeshift our souls a dream for next generations a vision of liberation ancestors holler in exclamation two-spirit reclamation! with lands, bodies, spirits, minds aligned the struggles will be easier to survive no one left behind rise up, thrive (Bitty, 2017).1

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Two-Spirit Expression & Understandings Before Colonization Two-Spirit peoples have always been here. Two-Spirit traditions have been passed on for millennia in Indigenous nations. They have always existed. While the term Two-Spirit (2S) was only coined in 1990 by Indigenous activist Albert McCleod, there have always been people whose identity has aligned with the term. Two-Spirit individuals encompassed those with gender variance, unique dress, specialized work roles, same-sex attractions, and special spiritual identities.2 Before Two-Spirit people had ever been contacted or encountered by Europeans, they were known by their functions, not their sexuality,3 as they fulfilled specific yet fluid roles in their communities. They were judged not for how they looked or who they had sex with, but on their contribution and treatment of their community. Because 2S individuals were known to be endowed with the gift of both a masculine spirit and a feminine spirit, these unique individuals were hailed as divinely talented. Pre-contact, there existed complex gender systems that made space for sexuality unencumbered by ideas of sin, flexibility for gender identities, and a pro-sex outlook where the body and sexual activity were natural (neither immoral nor moral).

Two-Spirit folks have existed beyond the constraints of settler heteropatriarchy (the socio-political system whereby mainly cisgender males and heterosexuals have authority over cisgender females, gender identities, and over other sexual orientations) and homonormativity (the belief that there is a specific way of being queer and that marginalized sexualities and genders should conform to achieve greater acceptance of the dominant society). Sexual diversity, gender-expansiveness, nonmonogamy, cross-dressing, and homo-affective families are not inventions of modernity––they predate the global LGBTQ+ framework’s acknowledgement of sex and gender fluidity, same-sex practices, and non-binary identities.

Indigenous Peoples were getting married on Turtle Island (North America) to those of the same gender long before Stonewall occurred.4 2S individuals were often beloved figures of their communities, not merely “dead-enders” in their family line5: they were herbalists, negotiators, healers, warriors, matchmakers, counsellors, and caretakers of orphans. Their communities believed that Two-Spirit individuals had received special supernatural access in the form of visions and dreams6: because of this, they often occupied roles as shamans, healers, and ceremonial leaders. They were important storytellers and knowledge-keepers who knew the community’s creation stories and traditions. One of the most well-known 2S individuals who identified

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as female was We’wha of New Mexico who lived from 1846 to 1896; she was known as lhaman or “mixed gender” in the Zuni language.7 While Indigenous communities maintained relatively fixed roles for men/males and women/females, “the egalitarian, inclusive and adaptive nature of [their] cultures allowed for a wide variety of gender and sexuality expressions among community members.”8 Before colonization, inclusivity and acceptance were Indigenous values through and through.

First Contact & Settler Impressions Of Two-Spirit Folks When European settlers first encountered Two-Spirit peoples, their identities were tainted the minute European explorers and missionaries set eyes on them. They were considered not as the gifted negotiators, healers, and counsellors that they were in their communities, but almost solely by their outward presentation and dress. By the nineteenth century, the term berdache (meaning “kept boy”) became the term to describe these peoples who did not fit the settlers’ preconceived notions of sex and gender norms. Jesuits first used the offensive term when they recorded their observations of men in women’s clothing, work roles, and sexual roles.9 Europeans found these peoples to be a strange phenomenon; they quickly deemed them as deviant. The Europeans considered them to be homosexuals––who should be assimilated and Christianized to the standards of a foreign purity culture.

Post-Contact & Methods Of Colonization The Indian Act of 1876 is not an historical relic: it profoundly affects the quality of life of 2S peoples today and continues to oppress Indigenous peoples on a daily basis.10 The Indian Act was a consolidation of other colonial legislation, comprising the Royal Proclamation of 1763, the Gradual Civilization Act of 1857, and the British North America Act of 1867. The Act allowed the federal government to assume “total guardianship over Indigenous peoples and govern every aspect of Indigenous social, economic, political and cultural life”11: this legislation effectively removed the rights of Indigenous People to decide their own identities. Even today, the Indian Act of 1876 is actively subordinating vastly distinct peoples into a homogenising legal status; in doing this, the Act reproduces colonial heteropatriarchy, heterosexism, and harmful gender dualisms by ensuring that procreation and heterosexuality are the only unions represented and recognized by Canadian law for Indigenous Peoples.12 The intent of the Act was and is to shatter traditional notions of open sexuality and multiple genders through solidified political action. Because of the Indian Act, Indigenous people are plagued with guilt and shame for not feeling and acting “Indigenous enough”: 2S folks often bear this weight alone.

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“Stolen From Our Bodies”

First Nations Two-Spirits/Queers and the Journey to a Sovereign Erotic

Qwo-Li Driskill This is a Warrior Song From one poor Skin to another And I don’t know what I’m lookin’ for But I know I’ve found you These words will shuffle across concrete Will float across the Rockies To the Smokey Mountains We were stolen from We were stolen from We were stolen from our bodies We were stolen from our homes And we are fighters in this long war To bring us all back home And this is a Warrior Song From one poor Skin to another And I don’t know what I’m lookin’ for But I know I’ve found you U-ne-la-nv-hi U-we-tsi I-ga-gu-yv-he-yi Hna-quo-tso-sv Wi-yu-lo-se But I know I’ve found you

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The impact of residential schools cannot be understated: 2S children were specifically targeted by school administrators and grouped according to their biological sex, regardless of their non-binary identities or their family and community roles. Residential school administrators enforced expectations of dualistic gender norms through the gendered division of labour, harsh punishment for deviation from acting “unlike one’s sex,” and the forced transformation of their appearance and dress.13 Christian teachers and administrators at residential schools sexually abused and assaulted Indigenous children. Many survivors began to “understandably equate homosexuality and nonbinary gender with the abuse they endured.”14 These attitudes and traumas were then brought back to their communities and 2S traditions were “forced underground.”15 This eventually led to high rates of isolation, dishonouring, suicide, and violence against Two-Spirit community members which continues today.16 The hurtful impact of residential schools is ongoing for 2S individuals as a result of deeply-rooted intergenerational trauma. Each Indigenous society had its own distinct language and ways to acknowledge those who exist beyond the European binary impositions of gender, sexuality and Christian religious moralities,17 yet these 2S traditions were routinely silenced, repressed, and avoided for the safety of relatives during these processes of colonization. Because of the gaps in cultural tradition, some Indigenous societies today question if it was the European colonizers who brought sexual and gender deviance to the First Nations.18 2S traditions seem to be lost in colonial translation.

Trauma As A Form Of Prevailing Colonization 2S experiences are effectively “quarantined”19 in the sense that 2S youth are stuck between a rock and a hard place where few mentors are available to support them. They are extremely vulnerable individuals who often lack community that might support their 2S identity. In addition to their alienation, the intersectional effect of racialization and gender intensifies the consequences of colonization on Indigenous women and 2S people specifically. Many 2S individuals leave their home communities in search of belonging in city centres, only to experience further racism, exclusion, and rejection by non-Indigenous settlers. This is especially the case for those who fail to fit into the standards of heteropatriarchy and homonormativity.20 Though there is a resurgence in 2S reclamation and organizations working specifically for 2S individuals, there is also an abundance of discrimination and violence that remains living and active. The 2009 documentary, Two Spirits, tells the true story of Fred Martinez, a boy who was also a girl (we might classify him as 2S but he did not identify specifically with that term), who was brutally murdered at the age of sixteen. The film recounts the grief of a mother’s loss as she unpacks Fred’s growing up, his fluid gender presentation and identity, and his relation to the Navajo tradition. Fred Martinez identified himself as gay and nadleehi (one of four genders in the Navajo tradition, meaning feminine-man). He was known for not wanting labels: he “wanted to wake up in the morning and say “who am I going to be today?”21

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We’wha is one of the most well-known TwoSpirit individuals; she was referred to as lhaman– –“mixed gender”––in the Zuni language and was a remarkable fiber artist, weaver, potter, and cultural ambassador in the nineteenth century.28

Ozaawindib was an Ojibwe warrior who had several husbands in the early nineteenth century. Ozaawindib was described by settlers “his man was one of those who make themselves women, and are called women by the Indians.”29

Kaúxuma Núpika was Kutenai warrior, cultur intermediary, healer, an prophet in the early ninete century. She was docume

by European settlers as “Manlike Woman” with wife.30

Decolonizing, Reclaiming, Healing Recovering the traditional fluidity and inclusive meanings of 2S traditions is extremely difficult and often and Western LGBTQ+ groups, they face pushback and lack of support from both groups. Add to the mix an incredibly tough path ahead for Two-Spirit folks today who are on the path of decolonizing.

Often 2S folks are left to educate themselves for identity development and participation in their own com their immediate family or western LGBTQ+ community to turn to. Often 2S individuals do not desire to s dishonouring, displacement.”23 It should not be an alienating burden for 2S individuals to traverse.

Decolonizing and reclaiming Two-Spirit identity takes a village––it involves breaking unclarified silence ar knowledge-keepers and Elders).24 Successful decolonization demands bold creativity, re-education, and a aspects of Indigenous cultures targeted by colonial persecution throughout history (which includes Indig serve as viable sources of resistance and resiliency for Two-Spirit People.”25 For many communities, art is for 2S people to share their identities, stories, and traditions with non-2S people.

Importantly, the path forward in decolonization must include the acknowledgment and understanding of folks to be involved in this process, this is an absolutely critical step. For those who are helpers in Indigen and “placing symptoms of cultural genocide back into historic and contemporary context.”26 In addressin to amplify Two-Spirit voices along with the oppressive colonial histories that continue to engender margi organizations continue to raise global awareness, may Two-Spirit pride return and healing continue.

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sa ral nd eenth ented sa ha

Fred Martinez was a young nádleehí– –a male-bodied person with a feminine nature who was thought to possess a special gift––of Navajo ancestry. At the age of sixteen in 2001, he was brutally murdered and became one of the youngest hatecrime victims in modern history.31

Ilona Verley is a Two-Spirit Nlaka’pamux trans woman who recently competed on the first season of Canada’s Drag Race.

She became the first Indigenous, Two-Spirit, and openly non-binary queen to compete in the show.32

an isolated process. Because of 2S individuals’ intersectional position between Indigenous communities x a healthy dose of intergenerational trauma and an insistent feeling that one is not 2S enough, there is

mmunity and cultures. They are left to do their own healing work alone22 because there is no one in strain their Indigenous families with their 2S specific experiences that include “dismissal, disrespect,

round 2S traditions within Indigenous communities and intentional unlearning (especially for a return to nation-based knowledge systems and ways of being. Sparrow explains how “the very genous identity, spirituality, family, education, ceremony, cultural activities and values), will subsequently s often a vital element in reclaiming one’s queerness and unique Indigeneity: it becomes a fruitful way

f the history of colonization and its impact: for non-Indigenous nous communities, decolonizing involves being trauma-informed ng Indigeneity, mainstream LGBTQ+ communities should work inalization and erasure of 2S peoples.27 As more Two-Spirit

Carter Sawatzky (they/them) English major, Gender Studies minor

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Gender Colonized: Women in Igbo Communities Before and During British Colonization Igboland is located in southeastern Nigeria. Today, it is divided into five political states— Anambra, Imo, Enugu, Abia, and Ebonyi—in which the common language of Igbo is spoken and kinship is an important structure.1 Pre-colonially, Igbo people demonstrated organized government, lived off agriculture and trade, and practiced medicine and ‘healing rituals.’2 They had no concept of the Western sex-gender model, and had no use for it. Women were successful farmers and traders and could be what is referred to as female husbands.

Igbo gender construction was flexible and had nothing to do with biological sex: women could be husbands, daughters could be sons.3 Pre-colonial social organization was matricentric, and high importance was placed on the mother-daughter relationship. Less important was the role of father, which could be fulfilled by a woman when two women married one another.4 Gender construction was fluid, and therefore there was no concept of gender roles. The Igbo language reflects this “looseness of gender association,” in that there is no grammatical gender; subject and object pronouns are neuter, so there is no distinction between male and female in either written or spoken Igbo.5 There is no linguistic reference to a woman performing a male role or vice versa, because both the roles and the people performing them are linguistically genderless.

Politically, the most important part of Igbo life was the village assembly. In such meetings, all adults gathered and any person, regardless of gender, could bring a case forward. Women in Igbo communities also held specific political gatherings for issues that uniquely concerned them. These meetings, called mikiri, usually concerned trade, the most important activity presided over by the women.6 In Igbo communities, men were in charge of long-distance trading, while women held power over the markets. Women, therefore, made the rules concerning market and trade activity: prices, market attendance, punishments for rowdy behaviour of men, and fines for those who violated the rules.7 The enforcers of these rules were to be the men and elders of the community.

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If the men should refuse to abide by their rules, the women could strike. These strikes were known as “sitting on a man,” and included women gathering at the offender’s house in the night, singing scandalous songs, banging on his hut perhaps damaging it. Women would keep “sitting on” the offender for as long as it took for him to apologize. If a man mistreated his wife or broke the trading or market rules, he would be sat on—and no other man would dare intervene.8 This was the major source of Igbo women’s authority and their means of protection.

In 1900, the arms of British imperialism reached Igboland. The British condensed the many Nigerian and Igbo states into the Niger Coast Protectorate, and by 1918 the Igbo people were stripped of their sovereignty. However, the Igbo people resisted their colonizers.

Following their invasion, the British enforced a “violent suppression of indigenous institutions.”9 The British replaced the general assemblies and mikiri with new village representatives, called Warrant Chiefs. Warrant Chiefs were native men who executed colonial law in their own villages; this violated Igbo values, as no one man had ever been designated as representative of the village.10 Another colonial imposition was gender bias. The British colonizers brought with them strict Victorian views on gender roles that failed to acknowledge the political power women held in Igbo society. The institution of the colonial government and the authority of Warrant Chiefs degraded women’s positions in society, and they suffered abuses they had never previously experienced. Warrant Chiefs often abused their new power and ignored Igbo customs; they took women’s produce and animals, and forced women to marry them by ignoring the woman’s right to refuse any offers of marriage.11 British colonialism destroyed Igbo women’s traditional autonomy and social power.

Traditionally, Westerners believe that their “influence has emancipated African women.”12 The British imposed the male and female binary and the gender roles and hierarchies that are attached to said binary. The Western gender narrative is defined by the body: two bodies, two sexes, two identities.13 Igbo women could have titles, which gave them honour,

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Sixtieth Anniversary Re-enactment of Women’s War, Fair use.

wealth, respect, and authority. The Christian missionaries from the West were determined to prevent wom introduction of the male deity in Christianity further alienated women from religious practices. Missionari girls to the home. Women were to be wives and mothers, meek, obedient, and submissive. This, in turn, allowed to take titles, nor were they permitted to perform their usual roles in government and social life. their most important roles.

Women now had no place in the colonial government. Only men could be Warrant Chiefs, and Igbo wom played before colonization.15 By 1929, Igbo women became aggressive toward the colonizers that had st the British colonial government, and this fear compounded until the women rebelled. This led to what th

On November 23, 1929 a Warrant Chief confronted a woman, Nwanyeruwa, and told her to count her an to fight.17 Word of this quickly spread, and women from all over the province amassed to protest the exp “sitting on” the colonial government. Tens of thousands of women “sat on” their Warrant Chiefs, replica colonial government and witness to the Women’s War said this: “What I saw that day I cannot describe p was full of women. We were pushing them gently backward and they continued to do that all day. I was v fire on the women they did. Though the Igbo women never seriously injured the British men, colonial tro

The British viewed the Women’s War as little more than “irrational,” and referred to it as “riots.”19 They fa allowed for. In the aftermath of the Women’s War, the colonial government held a Commission of Inquiry Commission, one woman who participated in “sitting on” the colonial government stated the motivation oppressing the people and wanted to lose the whole country, spoil the land. It was also that women wer should not be taxed either.”21 The Igbo women stated their demands: they did not want to be taxed by t those things women should be able to serve as District Officers or Warrant Chiefs to achieve some repre

Under British colonization, Igbo women lost their rights to participate in government and the economy in women became subordinate and dependent on men and they could no longer protect themselves. The

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men from taking these titles, because they saw the rituals associated with title-taking as pagan.14 The ies brought with them Western education and Christian views of marriage that confined women and , created inequality between the sexes that had not previously existed. Igbo women were no longer . The British colonized the way Igbo people experienced gender, and in doing so removed women from

men faced a society in which they had very little representation in comparison to the vital role they tripped them of their livelihoods. The women in southern Igboland heard that they were to be taxed by he Igbo call the Women’s War and what the British call the Aba Riots.16

nimals so she could be taxed. Nwanyeruwa responded, “Was your mother counted?” and they began pected taxation. The Igbo women fought back in the way that their tradition dictated and respected—by ating their tradition of destroying the offenders’ huts by burning court buildings. One member of the properly. I have never seen the like before. They demolished all office[s] in that area… The whole place very frightened that morning thinking that the Government would open fire upon them.”18 And open oops shot and killed more than fifty women, and left an additional fifty wounded.

ailed to see that the Igbo women were acting within their rights, a practice their traditional structures y to determine what needed to be done about the “savage passions” of the Igbo women.20 At the ns behind the riots: “We did not look up to young men to move with us. We thought the Chiefs were re to pay tax and that is why we rose. We rose to say that women should not be taxed and that men the colonial government, that “all white men should go to their own country,” and barring both of esentation in the government. The British ignored these demands.

n their traditional ways. The British enforced their Western gender binary, and because of this Igbo British interfered with the traditional fluidity of Igbo gender, and the balance of power that provided.

Sydney R. Dvorak (she/her) European Studies (history stream) major

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FEATURE

The Kitchen is Where Women Keep the Knives… to cut Sandwiches in Half: 1950s Advertising and the New Electric!!

Canada and the United States emerged from the Second World War determined to prevent a return of the debilitating economic depression of the 1930s. The Cold War state of the late 1940s provided a unique opportunity for both government and businesses to firmly re-establish the definitions of ‘Western living’, ‘American’, and ‘family’ through the triedand-true process of capitalism, now heightened by the beginnings of the McCarthyism and lingering wartime nationalism. There was no greater time to manipulate past national trauma through the subtle wording of flashy advertisements and the overhaul of wartime factories for a dramatic new production of consumer goods. Through the art of advertising, the West was able to impose an ambitious nationalist vision of the perfect family on its 1950s citizens, a process which was merely a reintegration of the Victorian gender binary.

In order to produce a capitalist nuclear family utopia, the people had to be sold on the idea that mass consumption was now an encouraged patriotism, rather than the very personal indulgence wartime propaganda warned against. This was achieved through a direct application of wartime nationalism, in which the sacrifice of one benefitted the whole, only this time the “sacrifice” was purchasing a new appliance. Advertisers argued to the people that “the dozens of things

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you never bought or even thought of before…you are helping to build a greater security for the industrie American way of living.”1 Rooted in Cold War mentality, American and Canadian companies argued for a which did not require a barbaric Russian Revolution. It is an ideology which Lizabeth Cohen has coined th the lives of all Americans through doing their part in the post-war effort, just as they had during the war.I object can be classified, it can then be equally controlled.

Foundational to the classification and order of the “good American” or “good Canadian” was a commitm targeted the family unit and individual members of that unit. This included fabricating narratives about c 1950s; as marriage rates increased, it was partly due to post-war relief and hope for the future.3 Young m world in recent memory. Yet she also explains the social rewards that married men and women were gra transitioned back to the nuclear family model were regarded as appropriately progressive in their remova rewards, the roles of husband and wife were solidified. According the functionalist perspective,5 the effic nuclear family, most appropriate for the emerging western industrial powerhouse of 1950s America.6 Wh context, the nuclear family provided a contained unit which fit both emerging social and spatial mobility

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es of this country…what you buy and how you buy it is very vital in your new life—and to the whole a never-before-seen capitalist communism, a chance to experience a progressive social equality, one he “consumer’s republic,”2 a republic in which it was every American’s civic responsibility to enhance In a foundational play of historical power, North America classified its citizens into good capitalists. If an

ment to the gender binary performed in particular ways in particular spaces. Advertisers studied and creating the family unit itself. Stephanie Coontz explores this relation of marriage and culture in the men and women wanted to get married and start a family in what appeared to be the most stable anted for shaping their new lives to fit the rules of the postwar capitalist world4; married couples who al of middle-class women from the wartime labour force. Through this system of advertising and cient and modern postwar society could best succeed through the foundational building blocks of the hile the extended and blended family served its economic agricultural purpose within a pre-industrial patterns.7 A family consisting of a mother, father, and two or more children provided instrumental

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gender roles in family interactions, socio-economic status, and suburban settlement.

Marriage therefore was seen as the only culturally acceptable role to both adulthood and independence.8 While men were regarded as the backbone of the public labour force, middle -class women were persuaded to settle into more nurturing roles in private.Middle-class white women found themselves back in their homes, readjusting to the domestic sphere which seamlessly expanded to lure them out of their wartime factory positions with the appeal of shiny new appliances, and a husband who could surely cover electricity bill. The kitchen itself was portrayed as a sort of sanctuary in which women were granted the “similarly” independent working role they had acquired during the War, only this time it was producing for the frontline of the nuclear family. This transition is best summarized by Coontz, who argues that although the world appeared to be changing for the better, “the image of the emancipated woman of the 1950s was not the working girl but the full-time housewife, armed with timesaving appliances that freed her from the drudgery of old-fashioned housework.”9

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Advertisers represented women as humble servants, mothers whose main source of joy was serving their families and keeping up social appearances. American President Richard Nixon declared that the good life of families was one of consumerism, fun, recreation, and that the superiority of capitalism over communism was seen through the comforts of the suburban home, “designed to make things easier for our women.�10 Although Chatelaine magazine offered a space for the discussion of difficulties women faced throughout their suburban transition,11 its content was easily overshadowed by psychiatrists and mass media, which perpetuated the idea that if a woman did not find her ultimate fulfillment in homemaking, she should take it as a sign of underlying psychological problems.12 The solution to these problems was none other than kitchen appliance therapy, another gadget that would surely make home life more appealing, time saving, and better tasting.

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Television advertising increased by four hundred percent between 1945 and 1960.13 Because women were thought to buy more than seventy-five percent of all commodities, naturally most advertising was aimed towards them.14 Wedding silver was popularized, presented in advertisements as an enduring symbol of marriage: high-quality silver and a long-lasting marriage were equated clearly. Reed and Barton claimed, “from the very start you’ll want to entertain at home,� and that there was no better blessing for a new wife than the ability to feed her husband for the rest of their lives.15 But advertisers also reminded women that silverware alone was not enough. Reddiwip made it clear that men stayed in their marriages by choice, not necessity, and wives could drive husbands away with poor culinary skills. No matter how appealing the china plates, they will not save a failing marriage.16 Men functioned as foundational economic units within the nuclear family model; a man would establish himself and then seek out a wife, offering a relationship of romantic choice for the man, and economic dependence for the woman. This created a strong

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boundary between the male-dominant public and female-dominant private economic spheres.

This new mass market of dependant female homemakers allowed for a key integration of subconscious personal and social identity ideology. Women’s fashion transitioned back into fuller skirts and the illusion of smaller waists, a parallel to the era of the Victorian corset. These subliminal messages are explored in The Codes of Gender, as advertising then and now exercises the art of “commercial realism”; attempting to present the world in a way that could be real, in order to reference deep aspects of personal identity.17 These personal elements of identity, such as one’s value as a spouse to one’s value as a consumer, are designed to be quickly recognized because they are so ingrained into the cultural mind. They appear to be natural without any further examination. Femininity itself has become recognized as submissive, powerless, and dependent.18 What more, of course, should a woman be dependent on than her husband and his appliance purchasing power?

Standing opposite to the appliance-wielding 1950s housewife was her breadwinning husband. Like their Victorian predecessors, 1950s middleclass white men acted in the public commercial sphere; like their Victorian predecessors, middle-class white women performed the supporting role of angel of the hearth, taking their cue from their husband’s work; when men act, women react. While men actively left the home to work and return with a weekly paycheck, women reacted by preparing his living space for a hot meal and rest opportunities. Men were fed images of success, and encouraged to act out above one another, feeding into the pride of the provisional role. Pressured by advertising, fathers felt a sense of pride in their ability to supply their families with the latest material goods, especially television sets “once the sight of rooftop antennas became fairly commonplace, fathers easily felt the urge to keep up with this stage of household consumption.”19 When the working man came home at the end of the day, he was greeted with the by-product of his labour capital; dinner on the table at which his well-behaved children were seated.

As Laura King studies in her book Family Men, similar to mothers, fathers found their children to be a source of pleasure, pain, and frustration.20 Yet unlike the social expectations of women as parents, fathers were considered important to the family, but not necessary in childrearing. This meant that they could be conveniently unavailable from aspects of family life they did not enjoy.21 Advertisements both represented and created public discourse, and the

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importance of the father’s role as breadwinner was constantly made clear. The father who was always away at work was seen as a good provider not an absentee parent. In order to fulfil his duties as a good family man, fathers were encouraged to take advantage of home life amongst a sea of single-use electronic products.

If the flurry of new advertisements enforcing ideas of gendered society could be summarized in one word, it would be leisure. In his book Brought to you By, Lawrence Samuel explores the inner workings of the advertisers’ minds. With the emergence of television, consumers could not only hear about the products that were previously advertised on the radio, now they could see them. Very quickly, the number of television sets exceeded the number of bathtubs in the United States,22 and with a free conduit into the centre of American nuclear families, commercials could be created with specific sales goals in mind: the noble aim of the TV commercial is to provide America with more leisure which…America needs like a hole in the head…millions of families will trudge out, hypnotized by the words ‘new’ and ‘different’, to buy the gadget which will provide more leisure to watch TV and discover new timesavers which will provide more leisure.23 What were Americans to do with so much leisure time provided by all of these new products?

Thankfully, the advertisements that promised leisure time also offered new and exciting ways to fill that leisure time. As Rutherdale explains, camping with one’s wife and children on sunny weekends was pitched as a cost-effective activity which allowed men to prove themselves as more well-rounded individuals, as well as show their instinctual toughness in the wilderness.24 As the father was mostly present in the evenings and on weekends, camping provided an opportunity for bonding with the children, expanding the image of men into one which was more than just a breadwinner. One advertisement claimed “those primitive skills like fire lighting will impress a woman much more than coming home from the office with news that your Whatzit sales are thirty-eight percent higher than the same month last year. Woman still admires him most in a thoroughly uncivilized back-to-nature role.”25 Defined by one author as masculine domesticity,26 this “back-to-nature role” was to be continued at home as well, where portable barbeques, grass cutting, leaf raking, and maintaining the house exterior offered an opportunity for men to transcend the public and private spheres. The growing emphasis on the importance of fatherhood and relations with one’s children was also attached to an increasing pride in a man’s physical residence.

Whether through depictions of men leading their family on a camping expedition or flipping burgers in their backyard, masculine domesticity was ingrained in popular culture through the presentation of father figures directing their material toward domestic conception and leisure. This furthered the idea that fathers were the central figures in the provision and enjoyment of life.27 Fathers were portrayed as ‘spare mothers’, available to intercede in certain elements of the child’s life to produce a more well-rounded character, yet also the enforcer of hard-lined discipline, embedded in the classic line “just wait until your father gets home.”28 However, a father’s role was portrayed as more than just enforcing the rules.

Childcare remained a chore under the fixed responsibility of ‘mother,’ yet found itself easily slotted into or out of a man’s leisure schedule according to his desires.29 If a man did not wish to spend time with his children when he was at home, it was assumed that naturally there were more pressing matters for him to attend to.

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While men may have been choosing to escape the noisy child-filled atmosphere of the home in favour of workplace politics, children were presented with the narrative of a father figure who was always to be regarded as a man with a purpose. Overtime at work provided the funds for higher quality leisure time, and leisure time was defined by the latest television craze. Instead of what may now be considered as absentee parenting, weekday neglect, or emotional dissociation, fathers’ long work days and quiet time in the evenings were portrayed by popular culture as a necessary sacrifice to maintain the idea that the nuclear family was self-sustaining and must be able to keep up with the Joneses.

One father, born in 1930 claimed: “it was there for women to have babies and men to have no part in it, all they had part in was making ‘em, no part in seeing them born or being involved in the birth, no part in waking up at night, no part in bathing them, no part in all, your job was to go to work and bring home money to keep them, that was, and provide them with warmth and clothing…I was told that was my job.”30 While mothers’ kitchen residence and concentrated domesticity painted them as yet one more home appliance alongside their KitchenAid mixer, fathers’ authority and ambiguous financial role produced an awe in the little ones. Born in the 1950s, James Bullock reflected on the ritual of his father sitting on his armchair at the head of the dinner table, with his mother seated at the opposite end, claiming “no one would ever have dreamed of sitting in my father’s chair, whether he was in the house or not.”31 Thus, while some aspects of parenting such as breadwinning, allowed men to secure their adult masculinity, childcare, portraying intense emotions, and an interest in the domestic private sphere or “women’s work” equally challenged it.

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Trapped in their own perpetually advertised spheres, men and women were challenged to find a common ground which allowed for both survival, as well as a chance to enjoy the new standard of living society had deemed acceptable. In Mirror in 1953, Mary Brown cautioned both men and women: “if a man wants to be a happy king in his home he must earn his title. The mere physical fact of his manhood and his legal status as husband and father does not automatically ensure his kingship or his happiness…the mean man’s wife never knows what is in her husband’s pay packet.

He spends plenty on himself but doles her out a weekly pittance just enough to keep them out of debt. His wife is not a partner, she is an unpaid servant and she knows it.”32 Unfortunately for the average 1950s family, materialism was not the answer to personal, social, and marital flourishing. While advertisers and private companies continued to make money in a fast-paced spending culture, the newness of these advertised products served no purpose other than the consumer’s collection of more things. Commercial realism reinforced gender norms, attempting to support the mantra of buying one’s binary happiness. If a woman was displeased with her new role in the kitchen, advertising promised that once she experienced the ease and satisfaction of their products, she would feel right at home again… she needed to feel right at home again. Yet the overwhelming feeling of dissatisfaction remained, identified through the work of Betty Frieden in 1963 as the “Problem That Has No Name” in her book Feminine Mystique, which she defined as “a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning…each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries … she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question – “is this all?”33

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No matter the reality behind the freshly mowed lawn of the suburban nuclear family, advertising continued to churn out smiling images of women with new kitchen appliances, and those of men with new leisure boats, both of which played on television sets every commercial break as companies capitalized on the image of the ideal family. With many 1950s parents having grown up in the Depression, “there was no room for arguing, you have to look at the facts and take what was there and go from there.”34 The woman-in-the-kitchen model became as popular as Dow Chemical’s Saran Wrap, in which after a year on TV sales increased from 120 000 to 3.8 million rolls per month,35 as “the successful advertising agency has manipulated human motivation and desires, and developed a need for goods with which the public had at one time been unfamiliar—perhaps even undesirous of purchasing.”36 Yet this model and application of gender roles is far from new and exciting. Instead, it serves as a reminder that the male breadwinner and female domestic model had just transitioned into a time and energy efficient practice, one which is engrained beneath the surface of the calm water of an early morning family boat ride. As we are presented with infinitely more leisure time than ever before, the hidden narratives within this era of advertising suggests that these gender norms have merely been rebranded once again.

Janina Ritzen Pulfer (she/her) MAIH program (history stream)

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Outlander: A Genre-Busting Series

The Outlander series started in 1988 when Diana Gabaldon, Ph.D., D.H.L. decided to write a novel as an exercise. Gabaldon wondered if she could write a full-length novel and whether or not she wanted to write fiction (she had written primarily non-fiction books and articles in fields of Zoology, Marine Biology and Quantitative Behavioral Ecology). Gabaldon did not plan to tell anyone that she was writing a novel, let alone plan to publish it. Now thirty years later, after the first book was published in 1991, over twenty million copies have been sold and eight more additional books have been added to the series. This does not include the published novels expanding on the minor characters within the series. The books have been translated into over twenty languages, and into an extremely successful television program on the Starz network. It is evident that Gabaldon has successfully accomplished far beyond what she had initially set out to do.1 Because the first book was meant to be a writing exercise, Gabaldon saw no need or reason to limit herself in the book’s content. Consequently, this series of novels cover an array of genres and topics including history, medicine, wars, action, spirituality, revenge, clan and social dynamics, time travel, pirates on the high seas and romance. Each book is unique in its structure, tone, and themes. An interesting aspect about these books (despite them being a part of a series) is that they are engineered in such a way that each one could be read independent of any other. However, as with any series, Gabaldon suggests beginning at the start with the title novel Outlander, the first volume in the series. This story sets up the necessary background of the strong female lead character Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser.

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The series begins during the end days of WWII when Claire (an ex-combat nurse) is finally reunited with her husband Frank and they travel to the Scottish Highlands hoping to reconnect with a second honeymoon. On a walk alone Claire finds herself at the stone circle of Craigh na Dun (these stone circles can be found all over the British Isles) and she accidentally falls through the largest stone and time travels to 1743. The first person she encounters is the English Captain Jack Randall, who turns out to be Frank’s (look-alike) six-timesgreat-grandfather. Randall proves to be a sadistic pervert and while Claire tries to escape Randall’s clutches, she falls into the hands of a small band of Highland Scots. In a ruse to avoid capture

by Captain Randall, Claire begrudgingly agrees to marry one of the Scots, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. Still, she is desperate to get back to her husband Frank, and when the opportunity arises she tries to make her way back to the stones, only to end up in the hands of the English, necessitating yet another rescue by her Scottish husband and the MacKenzies.

As the story unfolds, Claire falls in love with the young Jamie and both the novel (and its sequels) develop the romance alongside major historical political and social events of the eighteenth century.2 When asked about the novel series Diana Gabaldon has said multiple times, “I tell you what. Pick it up, open it anywhere and read three pages. If you can put it down again, I’ll pay you a dollar.” She has reportedly never lost any money on this bet.3 The main character Claire is a woman who is ahead of her time both in 1945 and in 1745. In her series Gabaldon has crafted a character who does not need to wear revealing clothing, or be able to fight battles on her own, in order to be a ‘strong’ character. Gabaldon, depicts Claire as an emotionally authentic and revealing character with an ever-growing innate strength and intelligence as is shown through her ability as a healer. Interestingly, the series shows Claire as the healer in period-appropriate forms as a nurse, a surgeon, and wise healer. Without these abilities, it is possible that the Chieftain of the MacKenzie Clan may not have welcomed Claire into Castle Leoch as he did. In book three, Dragonfly in Amber, Claire travels back to the twentieth century and lives in the United States where she goes to medical school. In the 1960s it was not common for women to attend medical school, let alone to become a surgeon. Yet, Gabaldon has Claire balancing parenting and medical school successfully, coming out at the top of her class.4 Gabaldon shows Claire as someone who carries twentieth-century knowledge back in time as seen in book five, The Fiery Cross, when she combines both her understanding of medicine and herbology to create usable penicillin in the eighteenth century long before it appeared in the twentieth century.5 The first book of the series is told entirely through Claire’s perspective, which provides readers

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with a comprehensive understanding of her inner voice and personal experience. It is through this first-person perspective that readers learn how Claire’s nomadic and unorthodox childhood, along with her six years as a combat nurse were key components in shaping her into an independent woman who was not afraid of livingly roughly or of being in physical danger. Claire has an outspoken attitude and an unapologetic approach to life. When she travels from the 1940s back to the eighteenth century, people around her expect her to behave like an eighteenth-century woman: to have a soft personality, to perform the duties of a lady, and to keep her thoughts to herself. Claire refuses to silence her voice and freely expresses her opinion.

Gabaldon makes sure that readers understand that Claire’s eighteenth-century husband, Jamie, admires both her intellect and fiery spirit. In contrast, as a healer, Gabaldon presents Claire as calm and clear headed in many high stakes/dire situations, such as when she had to reconstruct Jamie’s hand.6 In the eighteenth century the occupation of a surgeon was exclusively a male profession.

Despite this, Claire stepped in and healed people regardless of the damage it might do to her reputation. In an era where domestic abuse and social violence were commonplace, Gabaldon ensures that Claire opposes this behaviour, refusing to allow Jamie to treat her like she was anything less than his equal. Significantly, Gabaldon writes Jamie as an alpha male type, who is challenged by Claire’s claims of equality, but he listens to her in order to learn and grow as a man.

The Outlander series is well-known for its sex scenes that explore intimacy through the female gaze.

Interestingly, Gabaldon has stated that she has never heard of the term “female gaze.” She contends that she simply writes from her own perspective as a woman. Her husband, Doug Watkins, is in fact the only person that she allows to see her manuscript while she is working on it. Therefore, her first editorial input is from a man.7 Regardless of who her editors are, Gabaldon may have started out writing fiction as an experiment, but in doing so, she has created a niche genre. This unique series of books are not just another romantic story in the Highlands of Scotland, they are a beautiful blend of every fictional genre.

The novels depict characters so realistically that they feel as if they could have been real historical figures and not figments of the imagination. Gabaldon knows how to draw out human emotions through her writing and holds nothing back. The books have endured and are endeared because they reflect the realities of life, death, conflict, jealousy and beauty. The lush landscape of the Scottish Highlands serves merely as a backdrop that draws the reader further into the world of Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser. Gabaldon interweaves real historical figures and events with her own characters effortlessly.

Combining these key ingredients along with a strong Hanna-marie Gazso female lead creates a genre busting classic series that (she/her) will last for generations.

Double major in History and Music

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“What if we was men instead a’ women?”

The Keeping Room (2014) Movie Review

Rating: R Genre: Feminist Western/Thriller/Chick-Flick Director: Daniel Barber Writer: Julia Hart Release Date (Theatres): September 25, 2015 Cast: Brit Marling as Augusta.

Hailee Steinfeld as Louise.

Muna Otaru as Mad. Sam Worthington as Moses.

Kyle Soller as Henry.

Ned Dennehy as Caleb.

Amy Nuttall as Moll.

Nicholas Pinnock as Bill.

Link to trailer:

The Keeping Room, a feminist western thriller set near the end of the American Civil War, depicts the story of three young women living on an isolated South Carolina farm. These two sisters and their former slave come to terms with knowing they must survive on their own by forging a new family amongst themselves. Based on their united will to survive against the attacks of two drunk and deserting Union soldiers, Moses and Henry, who are scouring the land victimizing, raping, and killing innocent women and men, sisters Augusta and Louise, and their former slave, Mad, eventually defeat the two attackers, burying them in their backyard.

The Keeping Room is a movie about loss, with very little space for joy. Peaceful pleasantries of melodic songbirds and the steady, atmospheric heat of

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynOvmT2fVyQ 88

summer in rural, mid-nineteenth-century America permeate the film throughout, occasionally lifting the viewer from the violence and daily drudgery of farming, domesticity, and hunting.

While the women in this film are haunted by the consequences of war, they become empowered by defeating violence with violence.

As the movie unfolds, Augusta heads to town, seeking medicine for her sister who has been bitten by a racoon. She finds the town almost deserted, save the local saloon owner and a prostitute who are both shaken by two menacing men occupying a table in the corner of the establishment. When the saloon owner says, “You should go before they sober up,” Augusta takes his warning and escapes, but the union soldiers are on her tail. They eventually arrive

on the women’s property as Augusta finishes shoring up their home. After quickly teaching Louise and Mad the art of handling a revolver, she locks them in a bedroom and proceeds to take Moses on in a gunfight outside. After the shoot-out with Moses, Augusta presumes he’s dead—he is not. Meanwhile, Henry, Moses’ partner, breaks into the locked bedroom, but Mad shoots him in the back while he sexually assaults Louise.

While the film is advertised as a feminist western, it is obviously not a traditional western.

The men exist on the periphery of the story and the women are front and centre. Before the onslaught of the gunfight between Augusta and Moses erupts, Augusta and Mad rest in the

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kitchen, reflecting, conversing as equals, and Augusta says: “Think ‘bout all the women sittin’ in their houses be men instead of a wife.” War has profoundly changed their lives. We learn a bit about their pasts and see constructs of gender, class, and race.

In the end, Augusta, Mad, and Louise walk away together, shoulder to shoulder, into the horizon as the cam shifts from light to dark, and then to light again, casting an antithetical spell of human violence against the b

The bond between the three women that grows over the course of the film is what drives the film’s pro-femin role as sage and protector of Louise, the status quo of gender and race is unsettled. Vulnerable, injured, and and violent. Most importantly, Augusta, Mad, and Louise are not rescued by any cowboy. They rescue thems

In his 1995 article, “The Scarred Woman Behind the Gun: Gender, Race, and History in Recent Westerns,” W masculine power within a narrative and cultural context.” Where the white/colonizer male figure is an agent unrighteous methods to achieve justification for his righteousness to save a single woman, multiple women, and not progress, despoiling the marginalized members of the community based on their gender, class, and about valorized male violence.” The Keeping Room magnifies these paradigms, preparing the colonizer for Augusta: Then why you come like you want a war?

Moses: I don’t know how to stop.

The only thing reminiscent of a traditional western in The Keeping Room is the violence and the period in w challenging for filmmakers to chip away its time-honoured characteristics that justify white-male conquest an Keeping Room’s challenge is its overly ambitious scope. Instead of chipping away at the genre, it dismantled resistance to this deconstruction by the audience, the film lies in between a western, a thriller, and a thriller c influenced the film’s low box office earnings, which were reportedly only $31,168. I would argue The Keepin

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Augusta, Louise, and Mad in the final scene of The Keeping Room, News24.com.

s—were supposed to be taken, but ain’t. Learned to shoot a gun ‘fore they learned to bed. Learned to how, in order to survive the war and the attacks from Moses and Henry, they transcend traditional social

mera pulls back and we see them disguised as men in Union soldier uniforms. The pleasing cinematography backdrop of the beautiful landscape, alluding to the struggle between masculine/feminine and war/peace.

nist/anti-colonialist theme. From Augusta’s role as a leader, her savvy gun-slinging techniques, and Mad’s d broken, the women face men who have survived the worst of war and who are also broken, desperate, selves.

William Luhr outlines western genre paradigms saying that their appeal has been their “jubilation in of progress and women are the agents for the justification of violence—the usual leading man uses or an entire community. The current paradigm shows the colonizer/white male as the agent of conquest, d race. Luhr says, “The Western seems ostensibly to be about justice and civilization building, but it is really the fight of his life and exposing his primal thirst for conquest:

which it takes place. The western is an immutable genre, steeped in so much Old West tradition that it is nd violence over people and nature, not to mention the ever so unconvincing damsels in distress. The d it. It is not a bad thing; this is part of a necessary evolution in filmmaking. But because of a subconscious chick-flick. It really has no genre to call home. This unsettling of the western genre’s paradigm probably ng Room deserved more.

Dana Graham Lai (she/her) MA English Literature MAIH program (general stream)

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Queen Bee Behaviour: Colonial Coping Among Today’s Pop Divas The pop divas of today have been cast into rigid categories, expectations, and ideals: they are expected to bend over backward for the male gaze, remain a role-model for the children watching, all while keeping their spots secured for themselves in a lucrative male-dominated music industry.1 So why are women in pop so often embroiled in controversies and catfights with one another?

Consider Taylor Swift’s much-hyped diss track against Katy Perry “Bad Blood” back in 2014 and Katy Perry’s not-so-subtle revenge song, “Swish Swish” back in 20172: they both know that their cuts at each other will generate more attention and amount to greater dollar signs for them than any innocent ballad.

Consider Nicki Minaj and Cardi B’s ongoing tension as women in hip-hop: the first interview Cardi B did after they were both featured on Migos’ 2018 track, “Motorsport,” she acted oblivious to Nicki’s part in the song saying, “Oh, I didn’t hear that. I didn’t hear that verse.”3 Nicki capitalized on her bad blood with Cardi on Beats 1’s Zane Lowe to promote the first two singles of her album––her tears and anger captured the attention of the public more than any of her solo music releases. Consider Mariah Carey’s response to being asked about her pop rival, Jennifer Lopez, by paparazzi in the early 2000s when she innocently answered: “I don’t know her.”4 Except she did know her: their feud allegedly originated in 2001 when Mariah heard the sample she planned on using for her own song “Loverboy” in Jennifer’s “I’m Real.”5 Mariah used a variation of the now-iconic reply when asked by talkshow host Andy Cohen about Demi Lovato: “She should come up to me, introduce herself,” and additionally when asked about Ariana Grande and the common comparisons between the both women’s vocals: “Honestly, I’m not familiar.”6 Are women in pop music hopelessly catty? Can the pop divas of today be diagnosed with a case of queen bee syndrome? Psychologists at the University of Michigan in 1973 first explained the queen bee syndrome as describing a woman in a position of authority in a male-dominated environment who treats subordinates more critically if they are female and may refuse to help other women at all.7 Potential culprits of this phenomenon pride themselves on occupying a limited position as a woman in a male-dominated industry and so they engage in “self-group distancing”8 which is common in situations of under-representation. This takes place because other women pose a dire threat to their seemingly scarce position of power and influence.9 The fears of today’s pop divas may be well-founded as studies have shown that the music industry is far from accomplishing gender parity. Based on the University of Southern California Annenberg study from January 2020, titled “Inclusion in the Recording Studio?” women represent less than one-third of all performers, 12.5 percent of songwriters across 800 songs, and 2.6 percent of producers across 500 songs.10

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As women in pop distance themselves from each other and their fans subsequently buy into this maneuver filled with internalized misogyny, the ideas of queen bee behaviour are reinforced: that only one woman at a time can occupy the throne of a particular pop niche.11 This sets off a series of performative mudslinging which forces aspiring musicians to participate in these often unfair competitions among women.12 Perhaps queen bees are less common than we think. Because women are stereotyped as kind and men as aggressive, women are judged more harshly when they violate the expected standards of niceness for their gender––we more quickly perceive them to be meaner and cattier than men.13 These queen bee behaviors prove not to be inherently female, however. This is a natural way of reacting to discrimination when belonging to a nondominant group.14 The “queen bee syndrome” is an unhelpful label; it places the blame on women, when in reality, these behaviours are a product of discrimination perpetuated by men through sexism and gender stereotyping.15 Often in discussions of famous women acting as “mean girls,” men are seldom included as a contributing factor to the issues, yet they undoubtedly play a significant role. While these women should be held accountable for their actions, the blame should not be laid solely on the women, but also on the male-majority music industry that prescribes women into narrow categories, demeans them as inferior artists, encourages them to adopt traditionally masculine characteristics in order to succeed in the business, and profits off their conflicts.16 The “shade,”17 feuds, and disses exchanged between pop divas today should be seen not as the disease itself but as symptoms of colonial baggage––queen bee behaviour is colonial coping. As more women advance in the music industry and gender parity improves, queen bee behaviour will become as obsolete and irrelevant as an old diss track.18 Carter Sawatzky (they/them) English major, Gender Studies minor

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the healing goes on...

ENDNOTES

The Past is Always Present Where Did All the Women Go? The Erasure of Female Leadership from Church History

1. Elizabeth Gillan Muir, A Women’s History of the Church: Two Thousand Years of Female Leadership, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2016), 145.

2. Muir, A Women’s History, 364.

3. Muir, A Women’s History, 364.

4. Kenneth B. Steinhauser, “The Aesthetics of Paradise: Images of Women in Christian Antiquity,” in Equal at the Creation: Sexism, Society, and Christian Thought, ed. Joseph Martos and Pierre Hegy, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), 50 5. Molly T. Marshall, “Weaving New Cloth: Overcoming Sexism in Ordination Policies,” in Martos and Hegy, Equal at the Creation, 164.

6. Leslie F. Massey, Daughters of God, Subordinates of Men: Women and the Roots of Patriarchy in the New Testament (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2015), 21.

7. Robin Gallaher Branch, “Female leadership as demonstrated by Phoebe: An interpretation of Paul’s words introducing Phoebe to the saints in Rome,” In die Skriflig 53, no. 2, (2019): 6.

8. Muir, A Women’s History, 10. Women hosted or led churches in Rome, Jerusalem, Philippi, Corinth, Caesarea, Laodicea, Cenchrae, and Ephesus.

9. Muir, A Women’s History, 6.

10. Branch, “Female leadership,” 3–4.

11. Branch, “Female leadership,” 4.

12. Muir, A Women’s History, 16.

13. Massey, Daughters of God, 75.

14. Muir, A Women’s History, 364.

15. Jorunn Økland, “Facilitating Speech and Discourse: Biblical Interpretation and the Emergence of a Concept of Gender Equality,” Journal of the Bible and Its Reception 1, no. 2 (2014): 211.

16. Økland, “Facilitating Speech,” 212.

17. Lesly F. Massey, Women in the Church: Moving Toward Equality, (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2002), 4.

18. “Religion in America: U.S. Religious Data, Demographics and Statistics,” Religious Landscape Study, Pew Research Center, accessed October 10, 2020, https://www.pewforum.org/religious-landscape-study/.

19. Marshall, “Weaving a New Cloth,” 172.

20. Mark Ward Sr., “Sermons as Social Interaction: Pulpit Speech, Power, and Gender,” Women and Language 42, no. 2 (Fall 2019): 285.

21. Ward Sr., “Social Interaction,” 287.

Be Fruitful but Don’t Multiply: Controlling Fertility Before the Pill

1. John M. Riddle and Josiah C. Russell, “Ever Since Eve... Birth Control in the Ancient World.” Archaeology 47, no. 2 (1994): 30. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41770706.

2. Riddle and Russell, “Ever Since Eve,” 30.

3. Riddle and Russell, “Ever Since Eve,” 30.

4. Riddle and Russell, “Ever Since Eve,” 30.

5. Sarah Iles Johnston, “Demeter, Myths, and the Polyvalence of Festivals,” History of Religions 52, no. 4 (2013): 370. DOI:10.1086/669646.

6. Riddle and Russell. “Ever Since Eve,” 31.

7. Riddle and Russell. “Ever Since Eve,” 31.

8. Riddle and Russell. “Ever Since Eve,” 31.

9. Riddle and Russell. “Ever Since Eve,” 32.

10. Riddle and Russell. “Ever Since Eve,” 31.

11. Riddle and Russell. “Ever Since Eve,” 31.

12. Janet J. Lieberman, “A Short History of Contraception,” The American Biology Teacher 35, no. 6 (1973): 315. DOI:10.2307/4444410.

13. Robert V. Schnucker, “Elizabethan Birth Control and Puritan Attitudes,” The Journal of Interdisciplinary History 5, no. 4 (1975): 657. DOI:10.2307/202863.

14. Schnucker, “Elizabethan Birth Control,” 657.

15. Riddle and Russell. “Ever Since Eve,” 31.

16. Schnucker, “Elizabethan Birth Control,” 658.

17. Schnucker, “Elizabethan Birth Control,” 658.

18. Schnucker, “Elizabethan Birth Control,” 659.

19. Schnucker, “Elizabethan Birth Control,” 660.

Image Citations i. Ferulafaemina Plinii-Fenocchione Salvatico-La Ferule. (Giantfennel), scan by NYPL, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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ii. Cyrene Coin, 525 BC–480 BC (acquired 1886), 1886,0802.12, Coin Collection, British Museum Archives. iii. Bronze pessary, Roman, 200 BCE-400 CE. Credit: Science Museum, London. Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0). iv. Rouibi Dhia Eddine Nadjm, Queen Anne’s Lace, CC BY-SA 4.0. Creative Commons, via Wikimedia Commons. v. Frederic Leighton, The Return of Persephone, 1891, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

The Colonized Black Male Body & Today’s African Anti-gay Laws

1. Jacob Kushner, “The British Empire’s Homophobia Lives On in Former Colonies,” The Atlantic, June 18, 2019, https:// www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2019/05/kenya-supreme-court-lgbtq/590014/.

2. Nita Bhalla, “Gay Men Seen Dying from AIDS Due to Africa’s Homophobic Laws,” Reuters, October 7, 2019, https:// ca.reuters.com/article/idUSL3N26S1WX. 3. “Mapping Anti-Gay Laws in Africa.” Amnesty International UK, May 31, 2018, https://www.amnesty.org.uk/lgbti-lgbtgay-human-rights-law-africa-uganda-kenya-nigeria-cameroon.

4. Frankie Edozien, “Britain Apologized for Its Colonial-Era Anti-Gay Laws but It Won’t Help African LGBT Communities,” Quartz Africa, April 24, 2018, https://qz.com/africa/1261482/theresa-may-sorry-for-colonial-anti-gay-laws-incommonwealth-africa-but-it-wont-help-lgbt-community/.

5. Edozien, “Britain Apologized.”

6. Edozien, “Britain Apologized.”

7. Pippa Crerar, “Theresa May Says She Deeply Regrets Britain’s Legacy of Anti-Gay Laws,” The Guardian, April 17, 2018, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/apr/17/theresa-may-deeply-regrets-britain-legacy-anti-gay-lawscommonwealth-nation s-urged-overhaul-legislation.

8. Edozien, “Britain Apologized.”

9. Val Kalende, “Africa: Homophobia Is A Legacy of Colonialism,” The Guardian, April 30, 2014, https://www.theguardian. com/world/2014/apr/30/africa-homophobia-legacy-colonialism.

10. Matt Swagler, “The Myth of Heterosexual Africa,” review of Heterosexual Africa?: The History of an Idea from the Age of Exploration to the Age of AIDS, by Marc Epprecht, International Socialist Review, January 1, 2008.

11. Edozien, “Britain Apologized.”

12. Kalende, “Africa: Homophobia.”

13. Kalende, “Africa: Homophobia.”

14. Edozien. “Britain Apologized.”

15. Abby L, Ferber, “The Construction of Black Masculinity,” Journal of Sport and Social Issues 31, no. 1 (2007): 15, https:// doi.org/10.1177/0193723506296829.

16. Ferber, “Black Masculinity,” 15.

17. Kushner, “The British Empire’s Homophobia.”

18. Bhalla, “Gay Men.” 19. Bhalla, “Gay Men.” 20. Kalende, “Africa: Homophobia.”

Image Citations i. Bre’Ann White, Reflection on Black Masculinity #1. http://www.breannwhite.com/home. ii. Daniel Zender, Rainbow-Flaming Cross. The Times. iii. Jessica Rinaldi, Gay Black Man, Reuters. iv. Bre’Ann White, Reflection on Black Masculinity #2. http://www.breannwhite.com/home.

The “Comfort” Women: A Silent Struggle & Ongoing Fight

1. Nicola Piper, “Transnational Women’s Activism in Japan and Korea: The Unresolved Issue of Military Sexual Slavery,” Global Networks 1, no. 2 (2001): 155–70. doi:10.1111/1471-0374.00010.

2. Gap Min Pyong, “Korean ‘Comfort Women’: The Intersection of Colonial Power, Gender, and Class,” Gender and Society 17, no. 6 (2003): 938–57.

3. Sarah Soh Chunghee, “The Korean ‘Comfort Women’: Movement for Redress,” Asian Survey 36, no. 12 (1996):12261240. doi:10.2307/2645577.

4. Chunghee, “The Korean ‘Comfort Women,” 1226–40.

5. Ueno Chizuko, “The Politics of Memory,” History & Memory 11, no.2 (1999): 129–53. doi:10.1353/ham .2005.0001.

6. Carmen M. Argibay, “Sexual Slavery and the ‘Comfort Women’ of World War II,” Berkeley Journal of International Law 21, no.2 (2003): 375–89.

7. Argibay, “Sexual Slavery and the ‘Comfort Women’ of World War II,” 375–89.

8. Argibay, “Sexual Slavery and the ‘Comfort Women’ of World War II,” 375–89.

9. Sarah Vartabedian, “No Cause for Comfort Here: False Witnesses to ‘Peace,’” Southern Communication Journal 82, no.4 (2017): 250–62. doi:10.1080/1041794X.2017.1332092.

10. “Japanese Military and Comfort Women,” The Comfort Women Issue and the Asian Women’s Fund, accessed October 15, 2020, https://www.awf.or.jp/e1/index.html.

11. Laura Hein, “Savage Irony: The Imaginative Power of the ‘Military Comfort Women’ in the 1990s,” Gender & History 11, no.2 (1999): 336–72. doi:10.1111/1468-0424.00145.

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12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

32.

33.

34.

35.

36.

Pyong, “Korean ‘Comfort Women’: The Intersection of Colonial Power, Gender, and Class,” 938–57.

Chizuko, “The Politics of Memory,” 129–53.

Chunghee, “The Korean ‘Comfort Women,” 1226–40.

Chizuko, “The Politics of Memory,” 137.

Piper, “Transnational Women’s Activism in Japan and Korea,”155–70.

Piper, “Transnational Women’s Activism in Japan and Korea,” 159.

“Japanese Military and Comfort Women.”

Argibay, “Sexual Slavery and the ‘Comfort Women’ of World War II,” 375–89.

Hein, “Savage Irony,” 336–72.

“Japanese Military and Comfort Women.”

“Japanese Military and Comfort Women.”

Chizuko, “The Politics of Memory,” 129–53.

“Japanese Military and Comfort Women.”

This is the equivalent to roughly 25,200 CAD or 19,000 USD in 2020.

Hein, “Savage Irony,” 342.

Hein, “Savage Irony,” 336-72.

“Japanese Military and Comfort Women.”

Vartabedian, “No Cause for Comfort Here,” 250–62.

Vartabedian, “No Cause for Comfort Here,” 254.

Vartabedian, “No Cause for Comfort Here,” 254.

Vartabedian, “No Cause for Comfort Here,” 250–62.

Vartabedian, “No Cause for Comfort Here,” 250–62.

Vartabedian, “No Cause for Comfort Here,” 250–62.

Piper, “Transnational Women’s Activism in Japan and Korea,” 160.

Shim Young-Hee, “Metamorphosis of the Korean ‘Comfort Women,’” Journal of Asian Sociology 46, no.2 (2017): 251–78.

37. Vartabedian, “No Cause for Comfort Here,” 250–62.

Image Citations i. YunHo Lee, Peace Statue Comfort Woman, November 15, 2015, Flickr, Fair use.

The “Sixties Scoop” & its Dismantling of Indigenous Motherhood

1. Erin Hanson, “Sixties Scoop,” last modified 2009, https://indigenousfoundations. arts.ubc.ca/sixties_scoop/.

2. “Report on the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, Gathering Strength” (Final Report, Ottawa, ON, 1996), 1–668.

3. “Canada Department of Citizenship and Immigration Report of Indian Affairs Branch for the Fiscal Year Ended March 31,1959” (Annual Report, Ottawa ON, 1960), 1–67.

4. “Canada Department of Citizenship and Immigration Report of Indian Affaris Branch for the Fiscal Year Ended March 31, 1959.”; “Canada Department of Citizenship and Immigration Report of Indian Affairs Branch for the Fiscal Year Ended March 31,1958” (Annual Report, Ottawa ON, 1958), 1–66.

5. Marlee Kline, “Child Welfare Law, Best Interests of the Child” Ideology, and First Nations.” Osgoode Hall Law Journal 30, no. 2 (1992): 375–425.

6. Raven Sinclair, “Identity lost and found: Lessons from the sixties scoop.” First Peoples Child & Family Review 3, no.1 (2007): 65–82. https://doi.org/10.7202/ 1069527ar 7. Lisa J. Udel, “Revision and Resistance.” Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies 22, no.2, (2001): 43–62. doi:10.2307/3347054.

8. Harriet V. Kuhnlein, “Gender Roles, Food System Biodiversity, and Food Security in Indigenous Peoples’ Communities.”

Maternal & Child Nutrition 13, no. 3 (2017): 2. doi:10.1111/mcn.12529.

9. Catherine E. Burnette, and Timothy S. Hefflinger, “Identifying Community Risk Factors for Violence against Indigenous Women: A Framework of Historical Oppression and Resilience.” Journal of Community Psychology 45, no. 5 (2017): 587–600. doi:10.1002/jcop.21879 10. Burnette and Hefflinger, “Identifying Community Risk Factors,” 587–600.

11. Cyndy Baskin, “Contemporary Indigenous Women’s Roles: Traditional Teachings or Internalized Colonialism?” Violence Against Women 26, no.15/16 (2020): 2085. doi:10.1177/1077801219888024.

12. Udel, “Revision and Resistance,” 43–62.

13. Udel, “Revision and Resistance,” 52.

14. Udel, “Revision and Resistance,” 52.

15. Burnette and Hefflinger, “Identifying Community Risk Factors for Violence against Indigenous Women: A Framework of Historical Oppression and Resilience,” 590.

16. Leslie Theilen-Wilson. “Troubling the Path to Decolonization: Indian Residential School Case Law, Genocide, and Settler Illegitimacy.” Canadian Journal of Law and Society 29, no. 2 (2014):186.

17. Hilary N. Weaver, “The Colonial Context of Violence: Reflections on Violence in the Lives of Native American Women.”

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Journal of Interpersonal Violence 24, no. 9 (2009): 1552–63.

18. Baskin, “Contemporary Indigenous Women’s Roles,” 2083–2101; Sarah De Leeuw, “Intimate colonialisms: the material and experienced places of British Columbia’s residential schools.” Canadian Geographer 5, no.3 (2007):339–59.

19. De Leeuw, “Intimate colonialisms,” 342.

20. De Leeuw, “Intimate colonialisms,” 339–59.

21. De Leeuw, “Intimate colonialisms,” 343.

22. De Leeuw, “Intimate colonialisms,” 339–59.

23. Mona Gleason, “Psychology and the Construction of the ‘Normal’ Family in Postwar Canada, 1945-60.” Canadian Historical Review 78, no. 3 (1997): 442–77. doi:10.3138/CHR.78.3.

24. Dawn Marie Dow, “Integrated Motherhood: Beyond Hegemonic Ideologies of Motherhood.” Journal of Marriage & Family 78, no. 1 (2016): 180–96. doi:10.1111/jomf.12264.

25. Gleason, “Psychology and the Construction of the ‘Normal’ Family,” 458.

26. Gleason, “Psychology and the Construction of the ‘Normal’ Family,” 444.

27. Julia V. Emberley, “The Bourgeois Family, Aboriginal Women, and Colonial Governance in Canada: A Study in Feminist Historical and Cultural Materialism,” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture & Society 27, no. 1 (2001): 59. doi:10.1086/495670.

28. Kline, “Child Welfare Law,” 375–425.

29. Kline, “Child Welfare Law,” 375–425.

30. Ann McGrath and Winona Stevenson, “Gender, Race and Policy: Aboriginal Women and the State in Canada and Australia.” Labour/Le Travail 38, (1996): 40.

31. Marlee Kline, “The Colour of Law: Ideological Representations of First Nations in Legal Discourse.” Social and Legal Studies 3, no. 4 (1994): 451–76.

32. Kline, “The Colour of Law,” 451-76.

33. McGrath and Stevenson, “Gender, Race and Policy,” 37–53.

34. Kline, “The Colour of Law,” 451–76.

35. “Report on the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, Gathering Strength.”

36. “Report on the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples, Gathering Strength.”

37. “60’s Scoop,” National Healing Foundation, https://www.nationalhealingfoundation.com.

Image Citations i. Saskatchewan’s Adopt Indian and Metis Program, late 1960s, Discourse Magazine, https://www.discoursemagazine.ca/ wp-content/uploads/2019/04/discourse-ss18.pdf, Fair use.

Feature Forced Femininity: Corsets & the Cultural Body

1. Melis Mulazimoglu Erkal, “The Cultural History of the Corset and Gendered Body in Social and Literary Landscapes,” European Journal of Language and Literature Studies 3, no. 3 (2017): 117.

2. “History of Corsetry,” http://tahliamckellartextiles.weebly.com/corset-timeline.html.

3. Erkal, “Cultural History,” 110.

4. “History of Corsetry.”

5. “History of Corsetry.”

6. “History of Corsetry.”

7. Erkal, “Cultural History,” 110.

8. “History of Corsetry.”

9. Ross Pomeroy, “Did 19th Century Corsets Really Kill Women?” Real Clear Politics (April 11, 2019), https://www. realclearscience.com/blog/2019/04/11/did_19th_century_corsets_really_kill_women.html.

10. Pomeroy, “Did 19th Century Corsets Really Kill Women?”

11. Ruth Goodman, How to be a Victorian (London: Penguin Books, 2013), 63.

12. Leigh Summer, “Yes, They Did Wear Them: Working-Class Women and Corsetry in the Nineteenth Century,” Costume 36, no.1 (2002): 1.

13. Summer, “Yes, They Did Wear Them,” 1.

14. Goodman, How to be a Victorian, 64.

15. Goodman, How to be a Victorian, 64.

16. Goodman, How to be a Victorian, 64.

17. Goodman, How to be a Victorian, 66.

18. Goodman, How to be a Victorian, 69.

19. Goodman, How to be a Victorian, 69.

20. Goodman, How to be a Victorian, 69.

21. Goodman, How to be a Victorian, 69.

22. Robert E. Riegel, “Women’s Clothes and Women’s Rights,” American Quarterly 15, no. 3 (1963): 396.

23. “Dress Reform,” The Guilded Hour, https://thegildedhour.com/dress-reform-lacing/.

24. Riegel, “Women’s Clothes,” 393.

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25. Riegel, “Women’s Clothes,” 393.

26. Riegel, “Women’s Clothes,” 399.

Image Citations i. A page from Au Bon Marche Corsets, Paris, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. ii. This image shows the impact of the corset on a woman’s inner organs. attachments.s3.amazonaws. com/5f52df78be4d6a66355dc4b6/5f6d3046e9515b7c5c5ebc2d/6b9267d12d69b0ca0ca9e75bebf2017e/Corsets_ Insides.jpg. iii. A satirical cartoon of 1820 pokes fun at tightlacing: “A cutting wind or the fatal effects of tightlacing,” wikiwand/en/ tightlacing.

Gendered Frontiers The Domestic Phenomenon of the Eighteenth Century

1. Baldassare Castiglione, The Book of the Courtier (1528; rprt., New York: Charles Scriber & Sons, 1903),179.

2. John Essex, The Young Ladies Conduct: Or Rules for Education under Several Heads; with Instruction upon Dress, Both before and after Marriage. And Advice too Young Wives (London: John Brotherton, 1722), 84–85.

3. Carl Ludwig Junker, Vom Kostüm des Frauenzimmer Spielens (Freiburg, DE: Musikalischer und Künstler-Almanach auf das Jahr, 1784), 86.

4. Ernest Lubin, The Piano Duet (New York: Grossman, 1970), 3.

5. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Emile, trans. Allan Bloom (New York: Basic Books, 1979).

6. Arthur Loesser, Men, Women, and Pianos: A Social History (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1954), 268.

7. Donald Jay Grout, J. Peter Burkholder, and Claude V. Palisca, A History of Western Music, 9th ed. (New York: WW Norton & Co Inc, 2014), 467.

Image Citations i. Adèle Romany, Portrait of a Lady at a Pianoforte, circa 1808, Museum of Fine-Arts, Boston, Adèle Romany, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. ii. Adèle Romany, A young person hesitating to play the piano in front of her family, also known as Portrait of the Artist’s Family in Front of the Chateau de Juily, Ile-de-France, 1804, Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center, Vassar College, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. iii. Giovanni Boldini, Two Women in Eighteenth-Century Costume at the Piano (also known as The Old Song), Fair use.

Albanian Burrnesha: From Girls to Men 1. Stéphane Voell, “The Kanun in the City. Albanian Customary Law as a Habitus and Its Persistence in the Suburb of Tirana, Bathore” Anthropos 98, no. 1 (2003): 86.

2. Roland Littlewood, “Three in Two: The Third Sex in Northern Albania” Anthropology & Medicine vol. 9 no. 1 (2002): 43. doi: 10.1080/13648470220130035.

3. Littlewood, “Three in Two,” 47.

4. Jake Scobey-Thal, “Anthropology of an Idea: Third Gender” Foreign Policy, no. 207 (2014): 17.

5. Jeta (Jetim) Luboteni, “A Heavy Word: Discourses on Albanian Sworn Virgins,” The Feminist Critique vol. 3 (2020): 65–89.

6. Luboteni, “A Heavy Word.”

7. Penny Marshall “The ‘sworn virgins’ of Albania: Women who have lived their whole lives as men” ITV News, May 14, 2018, video, 0:05 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1b32j8zGGrY. Image Citations i. All images Jill Peters, “Sworn Virgins: Men by Choice in the Balkans,” https://slate.com/culture/2012/12/jill-petersdocumenting-sworn-virgins-women-who-live-as-men-in-albania-photos.html.

Hua Mulan: Legend of a Cross Dressing Warrior

1. “The Ballad of Mulan (木蘭辭): Mulanbook: The History and Legend of Hua Mulan.” Mulanbook, 1 Jan. 1094, mulanbook.com/pages/northern-wei/ballad-of-mulan.

2. Gina Dimuro, “Was Mulan A Real Person? The True Story Of Hua Mulan, China’s Fearsome Female Warrior,” All That’s Interesting, 30 Apr. 2020, allthatsinteresting.com/hua-mulan.

3. Dimuro, “Was Mulan A Real Person?”

4. “The Ballad of Mulan (木蘭辭).”

5. “The Ballad of Mulan (木蘭辭).”

6. “The Ballad of Mulan (木蘭辭).”

7. Dimuro, “Was Mulan A Real Person?”

8. “The Ballad of Mulan (木蘭辭).”

9. Dimuro, “Was Mulan A Real Person?”

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Image Citations i. Mulan (木蘭), 18th-century ink and colors on silk, British Museum, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. ii. Augustohai, 中文（中国大陆）‎: 花木兰·思家。花木兰——葛爱。元帅——靳可军。CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Billy Tipton: The Musical Flow of Gender

1. Marilyn Jurich, “The Female Trickster-Known as Trickstar-as Exemplified by Two American Legendary Women, ‘Billy’ Tipton and Mother Jones,” The Journal of American Culture 22, no. 1 (1999): 69–75.

2. Dinitia Smith, “One False Note in a Musician’s Life; Billy Tipton Is Remembered With Love, Even by Those Who Were Deceived,” The New York Times, (2 June 1998), www.nytimes.com/1998/06/02/arts/one-false-note-musician-s-lifebilly-tipton-remembered-with-love-even-those-who.html.

3. Jurich, “The Female Trickster,” 69–75.

4. Jurich, “The Female Trickster,” 69–75.

5. Jurich, “The Female Trickster,” 69–75.

6. Smith, “One False Note in a Musician’s Life.”

7. Jurich, “The Female Trickster,” 69–75.

8. Jurich, “The Female Trickster,” 69–75.

9. Jurich, “The Female Trickster,” 69–75.

Image Citation i. Billy Tipton, http://gaycultureland.blogspot.com/2016/07/billy-tipton.html.

Isabelle Eberhardt: Gender Unveiled

1. Marija Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt: The Cross-Dressing Explorer Who Dedicated Her Life to the Arab Culture,” The Vintage News, 9 Dec. 2016.

2. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

3. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

4. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

5. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

6. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

7. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

8. “The Many Faces of Isabelle Eberhardt.” Work in Progress, 23 June 2017, fsgworkinprogress.com/2016/08/25/themany-faces-of-isabelle-eberhardt/.

9. “The Many Faces of Isabelle Eberhardt.”

10. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

11. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

12. Dipanjana Mukherjee, “Cross-Dressing Explorer, Isabelle Eberhardt Crossed Geographic and Social Boundaries,” 4 Oct. 2019, www.ststworld.com/isabelle-eberhardt/.

13. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

14. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

15. Georgievska, “Isabelle Eberhardt.”

16. “The Many Faces of Isabelle Eberhardt.”

17. “The Many Faces of Isabelle Eberhardt.”

18. Mukherjee, “Cross-Dressing Explorer.”

Image Citation i. Isabelle Eberhardt in der Sahelwüste, 1900, unknown, upload by Adrian Michael, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Marsha Johnson: The People’s Queen

1. Marcus Anthony Hunter and Zandria F. Robinson, Chocolate Cities: The Black Map of American Life (Berkley, CA: University of California Press, 2018), 69.

2. Hunter and Robinson, Chocolate Cities, 67–77.

Image Citation i. Mural of Marsha P. Johnson, Janine and Jim Eden, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Feature What a Tangled Web We Weave: The Children of Colonization

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1. Magali Marie Carrera, Imagining Identity in New Spain: Race, Lineage, and the Colonial Body in Portraiture and Casta Paintings (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2003), 16.

2. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 16.

3. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 16.

4. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 21.

5. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 23.

6. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 24.

7. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 24.

8. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 24.

9. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 24.

10. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 25.

11. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 25.

12. Carerra, Imagining Identity, 25.

13. Susan Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject: Casta Paintings, Collectors, and Critics in EighteenthCentury Mexico and Spain,” Colonial Latin American Review 14, no. 2 (December 2005): 169, doi:10.1080/10609160500314980.

14. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 169.

15. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 170.

16. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 170–71.

17. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 171.

18. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 171.

19. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 171.

20. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 173.

21. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 175.

22. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 182.

23. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 192.

24. Deans-Smith, “Creating the Colonial Subject,” 192.

25. George M. Fredrickson, “Mulattoes and Metis: Attitudes toward Miscegenation in the United States and France since the Seventeenth Century,” International Social Science Journal no. 183 (March 1, 2005).

26. Fredrickson, “Mulattoes and Metis.”

27. Fredrickson, “Mulattoes and Metis.”

28. Fredrickson, “Mulattoes and Metis.”

29. Kelly Duke Bryant, “French Fathers and Their ‘Indigenous Children’: Interracial Families in Colonial Senegal, 1900– 1915,” Journal of Family History 42, no. 3 (July 2017): 311, doi:10.1177/0363199017711212.

30. Fredrickson, “Mulattoes and Metis.”

31. Bryant, “French Fathers and Their ‘Indigenous Children,” 308.

32. Bryant, “French Fathers and Their ‘Indigenous Children,” 309.

33. Bryant, “French Fathers and Their ‘Indigenous Children,” 309.

34. Christina Firpo and Margaret Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies: Child Removal and Colonial Subjugation in Australia, Canada, French Indochina, and the United States, 1870–1950s,” Journal of World History 29, no. 4 (December 2018): 543, doi:10.1353/jwh.2018.0054.

35. Fredrickson, “Mulattoes and Metis.”

36. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 529.

37. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 530 38. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 533.

39. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 533.

40. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 549.

41. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 550.

42. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 550.

43. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 550.

44. Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 533.

45. Fredrickson, “Mulattoes and Metis.”

46. Robert Brent Toplin, “Between Black and White: Attitudes Toward Southern Mulattoes, 1830-1861,” The Journal of Southern History 45, no. 2 (1979): 187, doi:10.2307/2208151.

47. Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 187.

48. Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 187–88.

49. Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 188.

50. Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 185.

51. Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 192.

52. Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 194.

53. Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 199.

54. Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 188, 200.

55. Peter S. Onuf, “Every Generation Is an ‘Independent Nation’: Colonization, Miscegenation, and the Fate of Jefferson’s

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Children,” The William and Mary Quarterly 57, no. 1 (2000): 160, doi:10.2307/2674363.

Onuf, “Every Generation Is an ‘Independent Nation’,” 158, 160.

Onuf, “Every Generation Is an ‘Independent Nation’,” 158.

Toplin, “Between Black and White,” 200.

Onuf, “Every Generation Is an ‘Independent Nation’,” 153, 170, 167.

Onuf, “Every Generation Is an ‘Independent Nation’,” 166.

Bernie D. Jones, Fathers of Conscience: Mixed-Race Inheritance in the Antebellum South, Studies in the Legal History of the South (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2009), 9.

Jones, Fathers of Conscience, 7, 153.

Fredrickson, “Mulattoes and Metis.”

“Identity,” Indigenous Peoples Atlas of Canada, https://indigenouspeoplesatlasofcanada.ca/article/identity/.

“Identity,” Indigenous Peoples Atlas of Canada.

Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 539.

Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada (TRC), Canada’s Residential Schools: The Métis Experience: The Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, Volume 3, (Montreal; Kingston; London; Chicago: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2015), 13, doi:10.2307/j.ctt19rmbp1.

TRC, Canada’s Residential Schools: The Métis Experience, 22.

TRC, Canada’s Residential Schools: The Métis Experience, 7, 50.

TRC, Canada’s Residential Schools: The Métis Experience, 52.

TRC, Canada’s Residential Schools: The Métis Experience, 52.

TRC, Canada’s Residential Schools: The Métis Experience, 55.

Christopher Adams, Gregg Dahl, and Ian Peach, Métis in Canada: History, Identity, Law and Politics (Edmonton, Alberta, Canada: The University of Alberta Press, 2013), 3.

Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 561.

Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 531.

Firpo and Jacobs, “Taking Children, Ruling Colonies,” 531.

Image Citations i. “Racial Mixture in eighteenth-century Mexico: Mestizo, Castizo, Spaniard, Mulatto, Morisco, Chino, Salta-atrás, Lobo, Jibaro, Albarazado, Cambujo, Zambaigo, Calpamulato, Tente en el aire, No te entiendo, Torna-atrás,” Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Manuscripts, Archives and Rare Books Division, The New York Public Library, New York Public Library Digital Collections, https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47db-cb90-a3d9-e040e00a18064a99, Fair use. ii. “The Story of Cambodia’s Stolen Children.” Digital Image. The Phnom Penh Post. Published October 03, 2014, Fair use. iii. “A typical mulatto farmer of the Southern United States; Shrewd, virile, and thrifty,” Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Jean Blackwell Hutson Research and Reference Division, The New York Public Library, Fair use. iv. “Mulatto and Black female of the upper classes, “ Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Manuscripts, Archives and Rare Books Division, The New York Public Library, Fair use. v. “Miss Cecelia Johnson; A mulatto who could be easily taken for a white person; She was a leader in her class in Chicago University,” Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Jean Blackwell Hutson Research and Reference Division, The New York Public Library, Fair use.

He Said, She Said, They Said Speaking of They: Colonized Two-Spirit Bodies

1. Bitty, reclamation! The Peak Magazine, 55, no. 1 (2015): 29.

2. Michelle Filice, “Two-Spirit.” The Canadian Encyclopedia. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/Two-Spirit.

3. Corrina Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between: Coast Salish Two Spirit Identities and Experiences” (PhD diss., University of Victoria, 2018), 29.

4. Two Spirits. Film. USA, 2009.

5. Two Spirits. 2009.

6. Filice. “Two-Spirit.”

7. Filice. “Two-Spirit.”

8. Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 30.

9. Kylan Mattias de Vries, “Berdache.” Encyclopædia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/topic/berdache.

10. Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 15.

11. Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 14.

12. Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 15.

13. Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 17.

14. Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 18.

15. Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 19.

16. Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 19.

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Sparrow, Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 6.

Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 11.

Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 32.

Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 33.

Two Spirits. Film. USA, 2009.

Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 91.

Sparrow, Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 94.

Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 102.

Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 38.

Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 23.

Sparrow, “Reclaiming Spaces Between,” 37.

“We’wha,” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, last modified October 23, 2020. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/We’wha.

“Ozaawindib,” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, last modified October 20, 2020. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Ozaawindib.

30. “Kaúxuma Núpika,” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, last modified September 5, 2020. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Ka%C3%BAxuma_N%C3%BApika.

31. Two Spirits. Film. USA, 2009.

32. “Ilona Verley,” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, last modified November 20, 2020. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Ilona_Verley.

Image Citations i. Fernando Cysneiros, Ilona Verley Vogue Photoshoot. Vogue, Fair use. ii. “We’wha,” “Ozaawindib,” “Kaúxuma Núpika,” “Fred Martinez,” and “Illona Verley,” see notes 28–32 above.

Gender, Colonized: Women in Igbo Communities Before and During British Colonization

1. Patrick Iroegbu, “Marrying Wealth, Marrying Money: Repositioning Igbo Women and Men,” in Changing Genders in intercultural Perspectives, ed. Barbara Saunders and Marie-Claire Foblets (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2002), 104.

2. Iroegbu, “Marrying Wealth,” 105.

3. Ifi Amadiume, Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in an African Society (London: Zed Books, 1987), 15.

4. Iroegbu, “Marrying Wealth,” 105.

5. Amadiume, Male Daughters, 17.

6. Judith van Allen, “‘Sitting on a Man’: Colonialism and the Lost Institutions of Igbo Women,” Canadian Journal of African Studies 6, no. 2 (1972): 167.

7. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 169.

8. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 170.

9. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 170.

10. Amadiume, Male Daughters, 119 11. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 172.

12. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 172 13. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 165 14. Oyèrónkẹ́ Oyěwùmí, The Invention of Women: Making an African Sense of Western Gender Discourses, (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1997), 7.

15. Oyěwùmí, The Invention of Women, 83.

16. Amadiume, Male Daughters, 140 17. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 172.

18. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 173.

19. Aba Commission of Inquiry, Notes of Evidence Taken by the Commission of Inquiry Appointed to Inquire into the Disturbance in the Calabar and Owerri Provinces, December, 1929 (London: Waterlow, 1930). Rhodes House Library, Oxford.

20. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 174.

21. Van Allen, “Sitting on a Man,” 175 22. Aba Commission of Inquiry, Notes of Evidence Taken by the.

Image Citations i. Northcote W. Thomas, Untitled, c. 1911, album print black and white, Museum of Archeology and Anthropology, https:// static.portal.maa.cam.ac.uk/portal-assets/media/library_images/web/726366. ii. Northcote W. Thomas, The Omu of Okpanam, c. 1912. album print black and white, Museum of Archeology and Anthropology, https://collections.maa.cam.ac.uk/photographs/412078. iii. Northcote W. Thomas, Untitled, c. 1911, album print black and white, Museum of Archeology and Anthropology, https:// collections.maa.cam.ac.uk/photographs/412078.

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iv. Ifeoma Onyefulu, A chief from Awkuzu, South Nigeria, 1984, Herskovits Library of African Studies, Northwestern University Libraries, https://dc.library.northwestern.edu/items/70f2f180-5810-4384-8090-e4119ff6347c.

Feature The Kitchen is Where Women Keep the Knives… to cut Sandwiches in Half: 1950s Advertising & the New Electric(!) Victorian Gender Norms

1. Harvey, (1993), in Lizabeth Cohen, A Consumers’ Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America (New York: Vintage, 2003), 236.

2. Cohen, A Consumers’ Republic, 236.

3. Stephanie Coontz, Marriage, a History: From Obedience to Intimacy, or, How Love Conquered Marriage (New York: Penguin, 2005), 230.

4. Coontz, Marriage, a History, 238.

5. An approach that observes society through creating connections of overarching themes, foundational elements, and classification of major parts.

6. Christine Knott and John Phyne, “Rehousing Good Citizens: Gender, Class, and Family Ideals in the St. John’s Housing Authority Survey of the Inner City of St. John’s, 1951 and 1952,” Acadiensis 47, no, 1 (2018): 186.

7. Knott and Phyne, “Rehousing Good Citizens.”

8. Coontz, Marriage, a History, 230.

9. Coontz, Marriage, a History, 235.

10. Nixon in Stephanie Coontz, The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap, (New York: 2016), 50.

11. Valerie Korinek, Roughing it in the Suburbs: Reading Chatelaine Magazine in the Fifties and Sixties (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 138–39. Unique to its time, Chatelaine debated the joys and challenges of motherhood, budgeting, and ‘ideal’ suburban living. Rather than reiterating the same advertising ideals, Chatelaine celebrated the intelligence of its readers, offering opportunities for women to submit their personal experiences and critiques, which would become a great attribute to the magazine’s success.

12. Coontz, Marriage, a History, 230.

13. Coontz, The Way We Never Were, 162.

14. Coontz, The Way We Never Were, 161.

15. Reed and Barton, Vintage Ad Browser.

16. Reddiwip, Schlitz Beer, Vintage Ad Browser.

17. The Codes of Gender: Identity and Performance in Pop Culture. Media Education Foundation, 2009.

18. The Codes of Gender.

19. Robert Rutherdale, “Fatherhood, Masculinity, and the Good Life During Canada’s Baby Boom, 1945-1965,” Journal of Family History 24, no. 3(1999): 364.

20. Laura King, Family Men : Fatherhood and Masculinity in Britain, 1914-1960, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 3.

21. King, Family Men, 3.

22. Lawrence R. Samuel, Brought to you By: Postwar Television Advertising and the American Dream (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2002), 93.

23. Alfred Bester “on the endless cycle of viewing and buying,” in Samuel, Brought to you By, 89.

24. Rutherdale, “Fatherhood, Masculinity, and the Good Life,” 355.

25. Rutherdale, “Fatherhood, Masculinity, and the Good Life,” 355.

26. Rutherdale, “Fatherhood, Masculinity, and the Good Life,” 354.

27. Rutherdale, “Fatherhood, Masculinity, and the Good Life,” 364.

28. King, Family Men, 78.

29. King, Family Men, 55.

30. David Swift in King, Family Men, 174.

31. King, Family Men, 135.

32. King, Family Men, 137.

33. Betty Friedan, The Feminine Mystique (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2013), 15.

34. King, Family Men, 137.

35. Samuel, Brought to you By, 93.

36. Motivations Research, qtd. in Samuel, Brought to you By, 97.

Image Citations i. All advertisements from Vintage Ad Browser, http://www.vintageadbrowser.com.

Pop Culture Corner Outlander: A Genre-Busting Series

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2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (Toronto, ON: Anchor Canada, 1991).

Gabaldon, Outlander.

Gabaldon, Outlander.

Diana Gabaldon, Dragonfly in Amber (Toronto, ON: Anchor Canada, 1992).

Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross (Toronto, ON: Anchor Canada, 2001).

Gabaldon, Outlander.

Outcasts Podcast, “Diana Gabaldon,” https://open.spotify.com/ episode/6Fy90jX1HQZcBvtAbWTMSK?si=1l1EZZwvSVSRcDP3q2lSTQ

Image Citations i. Diana Gabaldon on the battle field of Culloden on August 22, 2014, Writer-Pics-aaid2741LEVELS-e1522055741477.jpg. ii. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Randall Fraser in France (Outlander: Season 2, Starz), Outlander-Season2-characterportraits-1_0.jpg. iii. Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser - working as a combat nurse (Outlander: Season 1, Episode 1 Starz), 6d27622158de66b3bf1b3aa352a5d48a45ec3981fd9ced7c4069ac66d5e07c82.jpg.

“What if we was men, instead a’ women” - The Keeping Room

William Luhr, “The Scarred Woman Behind the Gun: Gender, Race, and History in Recent Westerns,” Bilingual Review / La Revista Bilingüe 20, no. 1 (1995): 37–44.

Image Citations i. The Keeping Room, IMDB. ii. Moses in The Keeping Room, https://www.mercurynews.com/2015/09/30/review-keeping-room-powerful-painful-look-atwomen-in-wartime/.

The Queen Bee Phenomenon: A Colonial Impulse

1. Laura Snapes, “New Rules: the Destruction of the Female Pop Role Model,” The Guardian, November 25, 2019, https://www.theguardian.com/music/2019/nov/25/destruction-of-female-pop-role-model-decade-in-music.

2. André-Naquian Wheeler, “Our Love for Pop Diva Feuds Is Deeply Sexist,” i-D, May 9, 2018, https://i-d.vice.com/en_us/ article/wjbem9/our-love-for-pop-diva-feuds-is-deeply-sexist.

3. Wheeler, “Pop Diva Feuds.”

4. Issy Sampson, “How Mariah Carey’s ‘I Don’t Know Her’ Became Pop’s Shadiest Power Move,” The Guardian, July 13, 2018, https://www.theguardian.com/music/2018/jul/13/how-mariah-carey-i-dont-know-her-became-pops-shadiestpower-move.

5. Sampson, “Pop’s Shadiest Power Move.”

6. Sampson, “Pop’s Shadiest Power Move.”

7. Reality Check Team, “Queen Bees: Do Women Hinder the Progress of Other Women?” BBC News, January 4, 2018, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-41165076.

8. Reality Check Team, “Queen Bees.”

9. Marianne Cooper, “Why Women (Sometimes) Don’t Help Other Women,” The Atlantic, July 30, 2016, https://www. theatlantic.com/business/archive/2016/06/queen-bee/488144/.

10. Holly Gordon, “‘Women Are Still Missing in the Music Industry,’ Updated 2020 Study Reveals,” CBCnews, January 23, 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/music/women-are-still-missing-in-the-music-industry-updated-2020-studyreveals-1.5436415.

11. Wheeler, “Pop Diva Feuds.”

12. Sheryl Sandberg and Adam Grant, “Sheryl Sandberg on the Myth of the Catty Woman,” The New York Times, June 23, 2016, https://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/23/opinion/sunday/sheryl-sandberg-on-the-myth-of-the-catty-woman. html.

13. Sandberg & Grant, “The Myth of the Catty Woman.”

14. Cooper, “Why Women (Sometimes) Don’t Help.”

15. Reality Check Team, “Queen Bees.”

16. Reality Check Team, “Queen Bees.”

17. Sampson, “Pop’s Shadiest Power Move.”

18. Sandberg & Grant, “The Myth of the Catty Woman.”

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i lost cultures i lost a whole language i lost my religion i lost it all in the fire that is colonization so i will not apologize for owning every piece of me they could not take, break and claim as theirs.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo i lost cultures i lost a whole language i lost my religion i lost it all in the fire that is colonization so i will not apologize for owning every piece of me they could not take, break and claim as theirs.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo