Purity, dualism and control

When studying gender, I often suspect that there is a key concept, just out of reach, which will link together and explain many others. I am wary of such simplistic notions, especially given the conflicts over diversity and privilege within feminism today. However, the concept of 'purity' has cropped up regularly in my reading, and investigating it seems crucial to understanding our deep-rooted feelings about gender in, at least, much of 'Western' society.

Most of my recent reading has been on the subject of beauty standards and their growing importance in our culture, and some writers have gone so far as to suggest that challenging these will be the core of Third Wave feminism. Notable is Naomi Wolf's The Beauty Myth (1990), which demonstrates the way in which 'beauty' has become a modern 'religion', encompassing the pursuit of unattainable perfection, and portraying the female body as something corrupt, decaying and polluted by 'impurities'. Germaine Greer (The Whole Woman, 1999) also refers to this association of impurity with the normal female body, and describes 'women who become obsessed by their alimentary canals, following in imagination every morsel that is introduced and waiting anxiously for it to reappear as excrement' (p.74). Of course, alongside the 'beauty myth' runs a resurrected 'cult of virginity', as described in Jessica Valenti's The Purity Myth (2009). The links between modern ideas about 'beauty' and 'virginity' and that of 'purity' are fascinating, and, I believe, can tell us a great deal about the threads running through the history of women's oppression. One work which has highlighted this for me is Sarah Dunant's brilliant historical novel Sacred Hearts (2009), where the concepts of spiritual purity, control of the body, and women's lack of freedom are drawn together in ways which are still visible today.

Dunant imagines the entry into an early modern Ferrarese convent of an unwilling sixteen-year-old girl, Serafina, and the nuns' attempts to settle and 'purify' her. This culminates in a period of near-starvation (or 'Holy Anorexia' (Rudolph Bell, 1987)) as the convent's hardliner, Umiliana, tries to purge Serafina of lust and rebellion in order that visions and religious ecstasy may enter. Meanwhile the down-to-earth dispenser, Zuana, aims to heal Serafina's body and end her drugged, starved hallucinations. On a small scale, this reflects the divisions rending Christendom at that time and the looming threat of the complete enclosure of the nunneries. Dunant illustrates beautifully the conflict between a strict dualism (in which the body must be suppressed for the mind and spirit to flourish) and a holistic view, with the reader's sympathy being drawn towards the latter. She draws out the way in which 'negation' of the body might actually cause it to dominate the mind.

Interestingly, Dunant draws out in particular the suppression of the needs of the female body, with descriptions of the impact of the monthly cycles and childlessness of the nuns on the convent's moods. Of course, changing views about the connection of souls with particularly female bodies have informed different forms of oppression - from the medieval view of women as base and animal (and therefore needing repression), to the modern American virginity cult's insistence that it is men who are driven by lust (and therefore women who need to guard their chastity). Maggie Millar, in Sizeable Reflections (ed. Bovey, 2000, p.158), links society's fear of fat to a fear of the feminine in general. Thus the idea of dualism and purification of the soul through negation of the body may have affected women particularly.

There are other elements of the concept of purity which might explain its particularly strong connection with the female through the centuries. In Sacred Hearts, Serafina becomes absorbed in her fasting and her desperate pursuit of purity because discipline over her hunger is the only form of control she has. Purity becomes tied up with her one hope of happiness in the convent - the entry of Christ in the place of her lost lover. Wolf believes the 'beauty myth' is powerful because it can be used by patriarchy, as was the 'Feminine Mystique' (Friedan, 1963), to distract women who are getting too big for their boots. However, despite Wolf's assertion that there is no need to set up a 'conspiracy theory' because the conspiracy is so obvious, I suspect the reality is a little more complex. Perhaps Dunant's work helps explain women's own take-up of these obsessions in a world where we very often still lack the control and fulfillment we want.

Perhaps such obsessions with purification and control will, with the increased desperation of advertisers and changing modern roles, affect men in new ways too.

Musings from a straight woman at Pride

My mother and sister came to visit me in London this weekend, so I took them round the big sights. When we got to Trafalgar Square, we stumbled upon lots of very happy people congregated for the Pride celebration. The atmosphere was infectious and I wanted to jump in the fountains and celebrate, but settled for spending rather too much money on rainbow banners and pink Union flags, and waving them around a bit while listening to some rousing speeches and sexy opera. Just a few thoughts, in case anyone's out there...

I know that there is still a long way to go in Britain regarding LGBT rights, but I did feel a surge of happiness that I'm able to live in a country where such a celebration can take place in the middle of a national monument. Of course, that shouldn't even occur to me, but there are countries where the gathering would be dispersed violently by police and the participants at risk of execution. I liked that the atmosphere spilt over into the streets and parks outside the square - I've never before seen men kissing each other outside a specifically 'gay' setting.

At the same time, talking to my mum reminds me that (maybe because I've studied gender and had certain personal experiences?) my thought patterns work in different ways to those of many even in Britain. She's a pretty open-minded and tolerant person, but I still think she finds it hard to take things like bumping into someone with breasts and a codpiece, or me wrapping myself in a rainbow flag, into her stride. I'm not saying I know it all but at least I'm trying to break the moulds of socialisation, whereas some people haven't even heard of the concept. Sometimes I just don't know where to start with trying to explain my views to my mum, because both she and I have lost sight of the roots of our 'gut' feelings.

It's amazing to be among people who at least seem to be refusing to judge others by their appearances or their preferences or their identification. Even to me as a straight woman, it felt incredibly liberating - so much so that it made me take a step back and wonder at how little I notice the pressures I must be accustomed to normally. At gay bars in the past, I've felt much more at ease than in other clubs, given that in some places I've had unpleasant experiences with men who got pushy when I refused or ceased to dance with them. In LGBT spaces people don't seem to make the same assumptions or demands and I feel a lot less 'on my guard'. (If this is me as a straight woman, how much more so for LGBT people themselves?!)

Does this make me 'appropriative'? Firstly, does a straight person 'using' an LGBT space to escape the feeling of pressure divert from the point of gay bars as a safe space for gay people? Secondly, does my very holistic view of the importance of the LGBT rights movement detract from the fact that it is just that - a rights movement? I value LGBT rights per se - being able to love and have sex with whichever consenting adults you choose affects real individuals on a very deep and personal level. However, I also see the issue as having much broader and deeper implications for many aspects of our lives and society - the idea that we are more than reproductive machines, the desire not to force people into moulds, the attempt not to judge on appearances or condemn what are entirely personal choices, a dislike for living rigidly by ancient scriptures. As a straight person, I don't really separate these two dimensions. I'm also female and 'feminist', but not the type of 'feminist' who thinks that men can't be 'feminists' or that their interests are entirely separate from those of women. I imagine there's the same sort of variety among LGBT people as there is among feminists, but I'd be interested to hear any views on how LGBT people feel about 'allies' and how far we can be part of any movement, especially if both dimensions are important to us. Is my getting excited about a Pride event to the extent that I'd like to wave flags and dance in the fountains too much?

Walking through St James' Park afterwards with my rainbow flag did feel a little strange. I think this was because I imagined most people seeing me would assume I was homosexual. I suppose it might be some faint insight into how LGBT people sometimes feel, with the majority 'assuming' that everybody else they see on the street is heterosexual. My mum fretted that I was sending out the wrong signals to 'the right sort of men' (aka straight potential boyfriends). But to me it felt both pleasant and unsettling to forget about my desire for a boyfriend, just for half an hour, and it was revealing that this desire had been a factor in my behaviour before I donned a rainbow flag.