A Feminist Bard?

It's nearly impossible to take any figure, public or private, and declare them unproblematically feminist. For one, people are multifaceted and contradictory within themselves, and hardly ever conform to one ethical ideal. On top of that, the accepted definition of 'feminist' has morphed enough since its creation that it can be difficult to pin down exactly what the qualifications are, never mind whether all self-declared feminists will agree on whatever you decide.

Of course, people try to declare each other feminists anyway. Sometimes most people agree on a verdict; Laverne Cox is a feminist, Bill O'Reilly is not. More often, particularly with historical figures who are too dead to directly ask, there is some contention. Shakespeare is a fine example of the latter, and it's doubtful that critics will ever totally agree.

Feminism as we know it today was not even a twinkle in the eye of Elizabethan writers. Our understanding of gender has progressed astronomically in the four hundred years separating Shakespeare and bell hooks. Asking what Shakespeare thought of the construction and deconstruction of heteronormative gender binaries is a moot point; the thought as we think it would never have occurred to him. There was no word for heteronormativity in Elizabethan England, it just was.

Calling Shakespeare a feminist is a bit like calling Socrates a communist; it's more than a little anachronistic. Still, taken in the context of his time, Shakespeare can certainly be read as an advocate for gender equality and transgression – a sort of proto-feminist, an early example for later creators to follow. His separation from the words and theories we have today doesn't preclude a relatively radical view of gender and sexuality reflected in his work.

Analysis of ideals in Shakespeare's work that could translate to an analogue of feminism requires presumption of authorial intent, which is, particularly on its own, a questionable method of critique. However, with historical context taken into account, it's possible to make guesses at the way a typical audience of the time would have perceived his work – and, therefore, to make even more abstract guesses at the sort of reactions he might have attempted to provoke with particular plots or lines. And though nearly every play he wrote ended in a reversion to heteronormative standards, the meandering queerness of the meat of his plays suggests at least a passing interest in transgressing gendered expectations.

Would Shakespeare have ascribed to generalized 'feminist' ideals were he alive today? It's impossible to know, but his work says maybe.

Shakespearean Contracts and Marriage as Misdirection

Throughout Shakespeare’s work, contracts, whether in the form of a literal written document (such as the picture above) or a spoken promise of sorts (such as Viola/Cessario’s promise to Olivia that she/he will never marry a man), often play a key role in both the surface and underlying functioning of the play. Specifically, it is in Shakespeare’s focus on language and word play, and the deceptions/complications possible through this, that these contracts draw much of their significance/power in his works (the specificity of Shylock’s own contract proving to be his undoing). Yet the contract of marriage remains surprisingly untouched; while individuals (such as Bertram in All’s Well) might be “tricked” into getting married to someone in the first place, the actual marriage often appears to lack duplicity or major incident, the characters simply marrying once the time has come. I wonder, was this simply necessitated by each play’s narrative (the weddings serving often acting in part as a conclusion) or was this more of a reflection of the age Shakespeare inhabited and perhaps his desire to (while still playing with the lines of gender and sexuality) not alienate his potential audience through a total break in the current social norm?

It seems likely, or at least possible, that Shakespeare’s preservation of the “sanctity” of the marriage contract would've been used to simultaneously mask the often more fluid treatment of gender throughout the rest of the work[s]. Consider the conclusion of Twelfth Night. The Duke continues to refer to Viola/Cessario as his “boy,” even after the reveal of Viola’s true nature; this appears to be playing with the notion of the Duke’s sexuality, with a possible interpretation being that the Duke would/does/will love Viola Cessario no matter her/his form. However, it is made clear that before the wedding of Viola and the Duke, Viola will once more dawn her “woman’s weeds.” Thus, the two will be married as man and wife, adhering to the social standard, and in doing so possibly reassuring the piece’s original audience. A similar situation occurs in As You Like It, with the relationship of Orlando and Ganymede/Rosalind toeing the line between homosocial and homoerotic, until the quadruple wedding, at which point Rosalind abandons her disguise and returns to what would be considered the feminine norm in the play/society.  These examples lend credibility to the argument that Shakespeare might have in particular sought to preserve the “sanctity” of the marriage contract to allow for the relatively gray area of each couple’s sexuality to be addressed while still adhering to the social norm.

 "Boys in the Head:" Gender Policing in Shakespeare's As You Like It 

       Shakespeare's As You Like It features a female character pushing the limits of  conventional gender and sexuality; Rosalind achieves her goals, but at what cost? Popular in plays like Merchant of Venice, All's Well That Ends Well, and Titus Andronicus is the success of its female roles, but at the expense of others. Certain aspects of Shakespeare's writing does lend itself undeniably to enlightened and progressive ideals of gender and sexuality, but I can't help but wonder... it is it doing more harm than good?

          In As You Like It; Rosalind dresses as a man and flees to the forest. Rosalind calls herself Ganymede, an androgynous sex symbol that quickly enchants Orlando and Phoebe. In Rosalind/Ganymede we are presented with one of the most kick-ass examples of fluid sexuality and fluid gender, but at the expense of the female sex. Yes, one could argue that the rail against the character of Phoebe by Rosalind  is used to show the constraints placed on them, but I find her rant somewhat offensive to the female gender. This is not to say that Rosalind isn't a hero, which she is, but the policing of her own gender detracts from her appeal. The conversation between Celia and Rosalind after Ganymede/Rosalind's lesson with Orlando is particularly interesting because Celia points out that Rosalind, "'...simply misused our sex in your love prate. / We must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and /  show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest'" (As You Like It 4.1.Ln.172-4). What Celia is saying is that in order to gain ground with Orlando she had to betray her own gender.
        
                     In order to put this in a modern day perspective; I have chosen magazine covers to illustrate my meaning in regards to Rosalind in As You Like It. What these covers have in common besides all the women featured on the front are beautiful, and uphold current beauty standards, but the headlines and content around them is most startling. "50 Ways to Seduce a Man," "Sex Survey, Thousands of Guys Reveal What Really Flips Their Switches," "What Guys Really Think About You!" The list goes on and on, we as consumers see these in our everyday life, but what are the repercussions of this kind of advertising? By focusing on what men want from women instead of what they want out of themselves is counterproductive. This has been called "Boys in the Head," and it can be seen in instances where women enforce the gender binary on themselves without there needing to be a man physically present. We as girls have experienced this throughout school and our adult lives. "Slut shaming" is a popular form of gender policing , as well as female relational aggression,  a direct result of women not being allowed to experience, nor exhibit aggressive behavior.  It is easy to make the connection between gender policing and Rosalind/ Ganymede's comments to Orlando, and it is no doubt problematic, but Shakespeare redeems the misogynistic undertones of the play by shedding light on gender policing through the role of Celia.

Sneaking Around the Censors

Perhaps the funniest part of As You Like It, to me, is the way it screws everything up so badly that Hymen, the literal god of marriage himself, has to swoop in just to make heteronormative sense of everything again.

It’s hard not to come away from As You Like It with the impression that Shakespeare was taking on the task of accessing homosexuality, or at least, homoeroticism of some sort. In the world of comedy, Shakespeare can slip in depictions of love between characters of the same gender, because it’s all a joke, right? All he has to do is make sure the higher-up governing officials of London – his era’s dreaded Network Censors – are pacified by the onslaught of heteronormative marriage at the end.

Shakespeare’s specific vehicle for accomplishing this mess is through crossdressing, and perhaps “cross-acting” in a sense as well. Ignoring the boy actor playing her for the moment, Rosalind’s triple nature makes her the perfect way to draw everyone in.

Dressing as Ganymede, Aliena’s companion on the road, Rosalind seems to act more as a lover than a brother to Celia in her new identity, even they're called ‘cousins.’ The way their relationship is described as “dearer than the natural bond of sisters” makes me think more of the Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune version of cousins, though. As Ganymede, Rosalind also finds that Phoebe falls in love with her, and towards the end of the play she says to Phoebe, “I would love you, if I could... I will marry you, if ever I marry woman,” showing some degree of requitedness in that relationship. Then, she begins to act as Orlando’s “Rosalind,” adding a third identity to the mess, and allowing Orlando to act like a man in love with a man, Ganymede... Because he’s acting in love with Rosalind.

And all of this homoeroticism going around is allowable because of Rosalind’s crossdressing. These romances can occur and Hymen can detangle them at the end, combing them out into four neat male-female couples just like that.

In the modern world, devices like crossdressing aren’t always necessary any longer. While queer representation on TV is still flawed, it exists – an impressive step forward.

However, children’s television has yet to catch up to the crowd. There have been a few recent strides forward, such as a kid on Disney with two moms, or the eventual romance between Korra and Asami, but for the most part the censors won’t allow even hints of queer relationships to slip through. Not even five seconds of a literal Love God doing his thing. Not even a couple of unnamed characters kissing briefly in the background. That’s a pair of recent examples out of many. Ouch.

So, like Shakespeare, some creators of children’s television have resorted to more covert means, hoping to get some queer representation out in the world. Recently, the show Steven Universe has done a pretty impressive job of it. Shakespeare imagined women dressing as boys to cause a stir. Steven Universe takes the idea of messing around with gender and identity to produce queer relationships a step further.

In the world of Steven Universe, there are alien characters called “gems.” Steven himself is half-human, half-gem, and has many of the abilities of other gems. One such ability is fusion: the ability to combine himself with another person to create a bigger, stronger person made of their combined identities. At first, Steven doesn’t know he possesses this particular ability, but when he tries in the episode “Alone Together”, he finds that he can fuse with his female friend, Connie.

The first time they meet, Steven accidentally uses his gem powers and they get trapped in a bubble.

The result is Stevonnie, an individual of unknown gender, seemingly in their teenage years, and absolutely gorgeous.

Stevonnie likes to dance.

In fact, Stevonnie is so gorgeous that when they go to get a donut at the local shop, both Sadie and Lars, a teen girl and a teen boy, are equally stunned and start blushing everywhere.

Maybe the humor of Lars and Sadie both finding Stevonnie attractive makes it okay, like the comedy in As You Like It?

And the censors are fine with this! After all, Sadie’s attracted to the boy part of Stevonnie, and Lars is attracted to the girl part of Stevonnie, right? Or at least, that’s the excuse you can give to any nosy execs who might think you’ve gone too far. Since the Stevonnie episode, the creators of Steven Universe have even used gem fusion as a smokescreen for queer content a second time, revealing in “Jailbreak” that the character of Garnet is the fusion of two gems who are pretty obviously in love, but still just sneaky enough to get past the censors.

But not that sneaky.

Shakespeare had his crossdressing, and here in the future, we have our… uh… strange alien power combination identity analogue. Hopefully at some point these kind of tricks for pulling off romances that aren’t straighter than a block of wood won’t be necessary, and queer kids can see themselves in their media without this kind of hassle. But, even so, it’s still entertaining to see how ways of sneaking queer content in have evolved over the past centuries, expanding into new genres with new smokescreens. Pushing the boundaries seems like an important part of writing that will never change.

V-Card Controversies

PAROLES: Are you meditating on virginity?

HELEN: Ay…. Man is enemy to virginity: how may we barricado [barricade] it against him?

PAROLES: Keep him out.

(lines 105-109)

            All’s Well that Ends Well explores interesting angles on the concept of virginity, specifically in the dialogue between Paroles and Helen in Act I, Scene 1. There are several conflicting views shared between the two characters, and it feels as though what is expressed possibly reflects the views of Shakespeare at the time as well.

            Paroles and Helen begin their conversation comparing the concept of virginity and sex in general to that of war. Phrases like “barricado” (lines 107-108) and “military policy” (line 115) all use war as a metaphor for virginity: Helen asks Paroles for advice on how to keep her virginity away from unwanted lovers, and even admits a woman’s virginity needs a man’s help, apparently.  

HELEN: …our virginity, though valiant in defence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance.

PAROLES: There is none. Man, setting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up.

(lines 110-113)

            Basically, there’s no hope for women at this period in history in deciding when and where they decide to “lose” their virginity (which, the concept of “losing” your virginity is a bit strange to me—but none on that currently). In fact, just a bit later in the scene, Paroles urges Helen to “lose” her virginity so she can contribute to the increase in population because keeping her virginity makes her potential for reproducing “lost” (line 124). Here again is the concept of “losing” and also a strange, conflicting view in which Helen is encouraged to “lose” her virginity but only to be in line with the patriarchal, archaic view that Paroles offers, that of to bring children into the world. However, it can be said that it is still strange Helen would even be encouraged to lose her virginity at all. Wasn’t it prudent to most people back in the time Shakespeare wrote in to preserve a woman’s virginity is one of the most important things? We see in Titus Andronicus that Lavinia is considered to be “nothing” or “ruined” once she is raped and her virginity is stolen from her. Why the slight deviation in All’s Well, where losing virginity is considered to be a better than keeping it, if only for the aspect of producing offspring?

            Moreover, Paroles calls virginity “peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love—which is the most inhibited [prohibited] sin in the canon [scriptures]” (lines 134-136). So now virginity is considered a sin, when most religious texts preach the sanctity of it. Why has Shakespeare expressed such a different view on virginity in this play and not in the others? Possibly, this is a new interpretation of his developed over the years as he continued to write plays. That being said, this play feels neither comedic nor tragic in nature, but just bizarre in its material, almost like Shakespeare was going for something quite prematurely absurdist.

            Back to v-cards. Helen asks Paroles, “How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking?” (line 140). She wants to “lose” it on her own terms, but Paroles ignores this tender request by relating virginity to being sold: “Off with’t while ’tis vendible [salable]” (line 143). This, like all Shakespeare plays, objectifies women and paints their virginity as an object to be sold. Is Shakespeare really pushing for women to make their own decisions regarding their virginity or really just reinforcing gender roles of the time? I’d like to end with one more quote, at the very end of the scene. It feels, once again, this quote can both objectify Helen and women in general, but also hints at their little agency in being able to manipulate their husbands, perhaps. Whatever the meaning, Shakespeare has some controversies on virginity he never tied up. What do you all think?

PAROLES: …Get thee a good husband and use [treat] him as he treats thee. So farewell.

(lines 197-198)