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.

Anatomy as Authenticity

In a perfect world, any modern adaptation of a Shakespeare play would take the latent queerness in the work and run with it. Many productions have done this, particularly for the stage, and many haven't. She's the Man has ample opportunity to be one of the former, and it passes up every one in favor of adhering to rigid constructions of gender and sexuality, sacrificing progressiveness for a reliance on jokes rooted in harmful binaries.

The list of mismanaged moments in the film is not short, but perhaps the crowning piece of heteronormativity comes during the climax of the film – the use of characters' anatomy as definitive proof of their gender identities.

In the nineties, this kind of conflation of physical sex and gender might have gotten a pass for being an artifact of its time. But She's the Man came out in 2006, and by then even Gender Trouble had been around long enough to start seeming problematic in light of the growing collective understanding of theory in queer communities. In any case, people involved with She's the Man knew about passing on a budget, packing with socks and binding with ace bandages; presumably, in their research on FTM presentation, they would have come across the idea that anatomy does not, in fact, dictate gender identity.

After all, these strategies for passing exist as a means of circumventing physical and social gender dysphoria – intense discomfort or trauma inspired by a person's anatomy not 'matching' with their experienced gender identity. The source of dysphoria varies; it can come from a personal feeling of wrongness in one's own body, or from social interactions hinging on assumptions of gender made by others. It's often an indicator of a trans identity for the people who experience it.

In a more radical world, 'Sebastian' having breasts would imply nothing about his gender identity one way or the other. The film certainly had any number of chances to be transgressive in that vein, and to bring little scraps of queer theory into the mainstream. Instead, the script manages to make even a film about a female-identified person learning to feel confident presenting male a travesty of binaries and outdated assumptions about gendered bodies.

Differences between "Troillus and Cressida" and the movie "Troy"

Having not read the “Illiad” (or having read it a long time ago and having forgotten), I am unsure as to whether the movie, "Troy," most closely resembled that version or Shakespeare’s, however, I can tell you where it strayed from the text.

The movie, “Troy,” starring Bradd Pitt, Orlando Bloom, and Diane Kruger (as Helen), was almost a reenactment of “Troillus and Cressida” by Shakespeare.  In Shakespeare’s play, the characters Troillus and Cressida are completely excluded from the movie.  This elision is most disappointing, because instead of watching a movie about the sadness of war, we watch a movie that glorifies it mostly since we hardly get any pangs of sadness from the ending of the movie—or at least I did not, anyway.  We do see the death of Aeneas and Achilles crying towards the end.  Another difference from the text is that Hector is completely defeated in a fair battle with Achilles, whereas, in “Troillus and Cressida,” Hector is literally stabbed to death while he is in a weak position. However, after reading online sources about the "Illiad," the director has kept most closely to the original text, whereas Shakespeare was the one who strayed.  

The omission of Cressida and Troillus just shows how much the director did not want to read further texts about the topic or explore hard-to-dramatize topics such as war and death.   (But let's assuming the director read most pertinent texts with regards to the Trojan war; his choice was clouded by the politics of the day, which would have been when George W. Bush was in power). 

Patriarchy versus Matriarchy, or is there an in-between grey area?

All of the subsequent argument would not be possible did not Queen Elizabeth the 1st challenge the patriarchal more.  Of course, in this patriarchal society of the Queen Elizabethan era (although maybe it tended to be less patriarchal with a Queen at the throne), women had dowries and men fought each other to wed the woman whom everyone desired.  In this case, Shakespeare employs this stereotype of how relationships are formed and turns it on its head and hangs it upside down.  Men were expected to sing love songs (Feste) while women would listen by attentively: Shakespeare again tells something different about the abilities of women to deceive and to work, and the meaning of attractiveness.  The only hope of women achieving intellectual success would be cross-dressing women, which Shakespeare has set-up in his play as an important motif.  

In modern times, men who cross-dress are often misconstrued as being homosexual, which has changed ever since the play days of Shakespeare.  Metrosexual is the closest term I know of to the idea of cross-dressing for men, short of actual cross-dressing that is with bras and other feminine attire:  

Another term that I can think of for women who are eager to reap the monetary privelages that men have solely enjoyed are women from the early 20th century who fought for the right to vote in America (it was earlier in England that women could vote), and women who fought for the abolishment of separate spheres in the military, workplace, or feminists who are still popular to this day:

In "Twelfth Night," Viola who cross-dressed as men--and not just any cross-dress--but in a really good, hollywood-esque, and convincing manner--could do any job that a man could do.  In terms of a matriarchal paradigm, which the play seems to exhibit, men were all turned into fools by the knave-like, deceitful Viola, and in a justly manner.  

A pun that the authors of the Norton English 2nd edition forgot to put in is Viola's name, which is the name of a stringed instrument.

I would argue that this play does not do enough to challenge the heteronormative, but rather, it places women still in a position of weakness compared to that of men.   Despite Orsino being increasingly fond of Cesario and then leaving all thoughts of being with Olivia behind him, he marries Viola and marriage seems to uplift her status whereas before, she had no high status.  In this patriarchal world, Viola's background as a parentless child suggests that only certain conditions can be set-up to create a character such as Viola, who is perhaps at war with society than at peace with it.  The only hope of transforming the heteronormative female gender role is only possible when the bastards of society are out to change it, it would seem.  I would argue yes, and it's for the better.  Sebastian, her brother, who was accused of stealing, also would be considered somewhat at odds with society, for conducting illegal, immoral activities, which go unaddressed.  

Crossdressing without Intention

Viola’s crossdressing in Twelfth Night is one of the more unique crossdressing narratives in existence, if you ask me. It has a unique attribute that sets it apart not only from other stories, but even from its own adaptations, at times. Even in movies like She’s the Man, directly based off Twelfth Night, the crossdressing involved has a significant difference at hand: it’s fully intentional.

In She’s the Man, Viola wants to play soccer, so her choice to switch with her brother is a specifically chosen act. In Disney’s Motocrossed, loosely based on Twelfth Night, Andrea (the Viola character) takes her brother’s place in the race. In other Shakespeare tales, such as The Merchant of Venice and As You Like It, the audience is given the impression that the crossdressing can be undone at any time. Portia in The Merchant of Venice hopes to fix Bassanio’s debt to Antonio, ensuring the safety of her marriage. Rosalind in As You Like It maintains her disguise to continue wooing Orlando.

Yet, in Twelfth Night, none of that flexibility seems to be present. Sure, Viola makes the choice to dress as Cesario, but it’s not out of any personal benefit. It’s for the sake of her safety. In Illyria there are only two great powers, Orsino and Olivia, and Olivia is grieving and won’t take new staff. Orsino, on the other hand, will likely only accept a man, or at least, Viola doesn’t seem to feel like going into his service as a woman.

Then Viola, as Cesario, woos Olivia for Orsino – but it backfires. Olivia falls for her instead. And Viola then reaffirms the idea that she is crossdressing mainly because she has to, not because she wants to, because of how much she seems to regret that Olivia has been tricked. “Poor lady, she would better love a dream,” she says, mourning Olivia’s unluckiness in falling for her. She also mentions that “time” must untangle this problem, because “it is too hard a knot for me to untie!” Viola feels that there is nothing she can do about Olivia’s doomed love.

"Arry" with Gendry, a fellow recuit, among other things.

The only other instance I can think of where a female character crossdresses out of necessity, not opportunity, might be something like Arya’s situation in Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire. At one point early in the story, when her family is in trouble, Arya is forced to flee for her life. She joins up with some Night’s Watch recruits, but in order to do so safely, she dresses as a boy and takes on the name “Arry.” A few interesting incidents come up as a result of her disguise. At times, Arya shows frustration with her disguise, similarly to Viola in her position in Twelfth Night.

Perhaps it’s just that these situations are more difficult to write and deal with, but it’s still interesting how crossdressing women in fiction usually seem to have some degree of agency in their crossdressing, and to point out the exceptions to that guideline. I would argue that it often paints a more sympathetic picture of the crossdresser in question – fiction often demonizes women being selfish and taking action, or pursuing “usurp’d” masculinity, so a woman forced into those situations, rather than choosing them, becomes more palatable to a generally sexist audience.

She's the Man, or She Needs a Man?

After watching the movie She's the Man I began thinking about why it is that whenever women are featured as lead characters in movies, their character plots always have to be complicated by some (often heteronormative) love affair. It's as though these women can't exist as individuals and have complicated lives due to - I don't know - gender bias in the job market, or even "manly" things like loans or saving the world.

This trend of trivializing women's lives isn't just in movies where all women talk about is finding a man, keeping a man, or stealing a man. It's everywhere - even in the case of Wonder Woman! Wonder Woman leaves her home of Paradise Island (where everyone is a strong woman) and comes to the man's world to deliver the wounded Captain Steve back to his home, and to fight for justice.

However, her story soon becomes about her marriage to Captain Steve for a while until (thankfully) the storyline was refocused.

Going back to She's the Man - I guess I shouldn't be too angered by the fact that most of the movie revolves around the Viola/Sebastian-Duke romance. That's pretty much how the story is in Twelfth Night, as well. The play is slightly problematized when Viola/Cesario realizes that Olivia is attracted to her, but everything only gets set into motion when Viola/Cesario decides that she wants Duke Orsino, too. The real issue isn't that Viola lost her twin in a shipwreck and doesn't really have a life plan other than pretend to be a male worker for Duke Orsino - it's that she has to find a way to solve the problematic lesbian attraction between her and Olivia, and shift Duke Orsino's affection from Olivia to herself. 

Hmm...sounds familiar. Let's revisit the most popular things that women do in movies:

1. Find a man

    Viola/Cesario already solved this problem (she found Duke Orsino).

2. Steal a man

    Viola/Cesario pretty much does this since she ends up with Duke Orsino instead of Olivia. I'd             argue that even before her revelation as being a woman, she had the Duke's affections, or at least         sparked an attraction between them.

I know they're scared of the tarantula, but they're pretty close...

3. Keep a man

    Faced with the threat of being cut off from Duke Orsino when he is furious that Olivia welcomes         Cesario as her husband, Viola/Cesario immediately reveals herself to be a woman to "keep her             man."

Viola reveal scene from She's the Man

Shakespeare's Viola/Cesario is no different from many of the female characters in our media today. Even in movies and shows with somewhat "progressive" storylines for women - like Gone Girl and Revenge - it all comes down to being about man. It may not always be a heteronormative love interest (such as in Revenge where the plot revolves around Amanda Clarke's father being falsely imprisoned), but it's a man nonetheless.

Pandarus The Pimp: Shakespeare's "Troilus and Cressida"

  Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida:  Pandarus's Escort Service

    "'She's making her ready. She'll come straight / You must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so / short as is she were frayed with a spirit. I'll fetch her'" (3.2 Ln. 27-30)

     Like many other Shakespearean plays that reduce women to a simple means of exchange, Troilus and Cressida is no exception. Women are used as war-prizes and as insults among men. In the case of Cressida and Troilus it appears as if Pandarus is the sole force behind the two getting together. Even though Cressida seems to have some interest in Troilus, it seems insincere because her feelings develop through coercion by Pandarus, who plays Cressida's uncle, and as it seems at this point, her pimp?   It seems a little unfair that Cressida is named unfaithful when she is not in control of her own life decisions, and at the same time the men around her never attributed her any wealth in the first place. Helen too is reduced to a bargaining chip and a symbol of male pride and prestige. Later on In Act 3 we get to see Troilus and Cressida meet and confess their mutual love. During this scene Pandarus is in attendance facilitating the coupling. This to me seems strange and off from the duties of a typical uncle. When Pandarus walks in on Troilus and Cressida around line 92 of 3.2 he interrupts the two and says, "'What, blushing still? Have you not done talking yet?'"  skip to line 130, and in the same area after Cressida begs to leave, it is Pandarus that says, "'Leave? An you take leave till tomorrow morning--'" This exchange makes it clear that at some level this is a meeting between two people that are genuinely in love, but it is obvious that Pandarus in soliciting his niece to Troilus. Hard to make a case for love and fidelity if Cressida is simply a pawn. 

     Pandarus's behavior reminds me of Z idler from the film Moulin Rouge (2001). In this popular Baz Luhrmann musical Nicole Kidman's character of Satine plays a courtesan who entertains at Moulin Rouge under the management of Harold Z idler (Jim Broadbent ). Even though Moulin Rouge is a brothel and Ewan McGregor's character knows she is a courtesan he eventually becomes jealous and believes at one point that Satine is unfaithful with little provocation. This is similar to Troilus's automatic condemnation of Cressida later on in the play. When Z idler is under the impression that McGregor is a wealthy duke, he readily solicits Satine as incentive for an investment from the Duke , and the real Duke himself has designs on Satine as well, and considers her property. Both the play and the film pay little attention to what the women actually want, and when they do try, it ends badly.