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.