Someone once told me that I often have an emotional reaction to literature than an analytical one. At the time, this was a huge illumination on my character and thus explained why, as an English major in undergrad and now as an English graduate student, I am sometimes unable to produce immediate analytic feedback. Unfortunately, this is ringing true for me after reading The Female Man – my analytical skills are temporarily stunned into silence by the challenging, fragmented novel. For now, I’ll have to go with my emotional reaction to the article in the course reader for this blog.
I was particularly disturbed by a passage at the end: "…and the possibilities for our reconstitution include the utopian dream of the hope for a monstrous world without gender" (181). After reading this, I was immediately reminded of the instance in The Lathe of Heaven, where George Orr devises, through Dr. Haber, a solution to racial tension. The doctor, of course, thought that this was a cure-all – however, we quickly see race’s lack in the new reality. George is profoundly devastated by the lack of color – most especially, he misses Heather being "brown". Further, we also find that although racial tension no longer exists, other prejudice does – a man was assaulted on the street for having cancer. Would a monstrous world without gender really be a utopia? Would it really be a solution to anything? Would I want to live there? What would happen to the identity that I have now, as a woman? I suppose I would no longer be a woman? I would also argue that, considering Janet and Joanna’s reactions to Jael’s proposition at the end of The Female Man, they were skeptical about a world without gender (or with just one gender) as well.
The article continues: "Cyborg imagery can suggest a way out of the maze of dualisms in which we have explained our bodies and our tools to ourselves" (181). I could be coming off as extreme here, but I think I might want to hang on to some dualisms. I’m not saying that everything in the world needs to be dichotomized and split into neat little boxes, but the idea of being in some kind of "monstrous" limbo-land, where "One is too few, but two are too many" (171) seems rather frighteningly amorphous. Further, I thought that jmonte had a great point about the "ambiguity of self" (I’m so sorry to use your handle – I am usually very good with names) – where is the self? Is there room for a self in this world? Can you even define a self if so few things are finite? Maybe that’s not what the author is getting at, but, in addition to liking an ultimate truth, sometimes I like some definite boundaries, too.
In keeping with this thinking, I was frustrated with the very last statement: "…I would rather be a cyborg than a goddess" (181). Obviously, the author is stating her preference, but again, I’m saying I see nothing wrong with the parameters that "be[ing] a goddess" could offer. I don’t necessarily think that the definition of something takes away from its identity, or takes away from its’ difference or otherness.
In the spirit of fragmentation, I will now veer off onto a completely different train of thought. I was reminded strongly of Jeannette Winterson’s work (Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit, The Passion, Sexing The Cherry) while reading The Female Man. I wonder if anyone else noted some similarities?