I initially intended to respond to this week’s readings about “The New Woman” through the lens of Nietzsche’s “On the Genealogy of Morals”. Nietzsche describes man’s fundamental envy for women’s ability to create (through reproduction) as motivation for man’s creation of art. In this 1887 polemic he indirectly addresses the women’s movement (in Douglas Smith’s Introduction “Political feminism is denounced as a life-denying form of the ascetic ideal” (xxix). “Central to this debate” (debate being Nietzsche’s place in feminism) “is the relationship between Nietzsche’s figure of truth as woman and his denial of the existence of truth—does this double move free women from fixed and essentialist definitions of identity, or simply reinforce already entrenched stereotypes about feminine fickleness and unreliability?” (xxix)). If subconscious fears and desires surrounding creation underwrote debates on the woman’s role and rights (an argument Showalter seems to support), then female novelists such as Kate Chopin and Olive Schreiner, who used art to shape political action, may have cut to the heart of creation-driven anxieties. Did the creative form serve as an effective protest tool because it demonstrated female parity in both form and function?
I put this line of inquiry on hold, because our in-class analysis of the late nineteenth century British female novelist’s role in the women’s movement focused more on the emotional power of their work than their philosophical consequences. My affective response to the readings, particularly “The Buddhist Priest’s Wife,” surprised me. As I returned after class to the apartment I share with my loving and supportive partner, preparing to dive back into my medical school applications, I thought of how much easier it would have been for these women to simply “stay in the cage,” and how different my personal and intellectual life might be if they had. With a gender equity landscape shaped by events like Sheryl Sandberg’s recent “Lean In” movement and the Supreme Court’s debate on the legality of gay marriage, it is easy to forget the men and women of the past whose passion for progress made modern marriage expectations (and so much more) possible. Olive Schreiner’s protagonist in “The Buddhist Priest’s Wife” is so intelligent, curious, and compassionate—how could she not be rewarded with an equally wonderful life partner? The story is heartbreaking in the way it subtly builds its emotional stakes. The deer metaphor adds to the reader’s understanding of the female protagonist’s immense vulnerability, but also makes a powerful argument for the equality of men and women (both must be treated with kindness, as their need for love is equally felt). This parity is immediately undercut with the revelation that in this society a woman, even a progressive, smoking woman, cannot openly seek the love she wants (which is itself starkly, succinctly contrasted with the male protagonist’s literal “seeking out” of his new wife in America). Internal limitations are revealed as more powerful than social forces in keeping the late nineteenth century woman from her happiness. The combination of characterization and metaphor created my sense of identification with the young woman and thus my immense sorrow at her situation. I’d like to look into the responses of Schreiner’s contemporaries, and whether they felt similarly moved or expected others to be.
As part of the Modern Thought and Literature program, I am predisposed to seek out parallels in present and past art/culture, in hopes that history may inform modern life. The New Woman may have been portrayed as a caricature, defined in popular media by cigarette smoking and pant-skirts rather than by their hopes and values. Leaders such as Schreiner emphasized that their movement for equal partnership was not about these superficial changes, and need not come at the cost of love, masculinity, or marriage. Gay marriage advocates often make similar arguments emphasizing equality and shared values over aggression, and may attempt to mediate or deflect from gay stereotypes. I wonder whether strategies, such as the emotional, artistic approach, that were effective in promoting women’s rights could be effective today—and if they have been employed but in a modern cultural context of television, movies, and plays more than literature. I am also taking a one-unit course on why feminism is relevant in the world today, and I think the slice of history we see through “The Buddhist Priest’s Wife” so beautifully captures both the specific challenges women faced in the past and how the emotional stakes are still resonant today.
-MW
Gender and Modernism 