Gender

A Disection Into A Feminist Anthem

Posted on by manunez

On April 13th, 2024, No Doubt performed one of their most iconic songs “Just A Girl” at the Coachella Music Festival, 29 years after its initial release. Following their release, “Just A Girl” received positive reviews from multiple music critics and later “Just A Girl” became a feminist anthem for many feminists. Through its satirical lyrics, Gwen Stefani portrays the struggle it is to be a woman in America. Although released in 1995, “Just A Girl” is a song beyond its years. 

In the first clip that can be found on YouTube, Gwen Stefani is seen standing in front a red  crashed car: 

Gwen Stefani, a woman, standing in front of a crashed car is a metaphor for the common misconception that women are bad drivers. These sexist notions have been surrounding society for decades and yet, they hold no truth to them. Men are twice as likely to get into a fatal car crash (Kelly). 

While Gwen Stefani is standing in front of a crashed car, the lyrics that follow are: 

[Verse 1]
Take this pink ribbon off my eyes


I’m exposed, and it’s no big surprise


Don’t you think I know exactly where I stand?


This world is forcing me to hold your hand

The “pink ribbon” being removed from Gwen Stefani’s eyes is symbolism that displays the lies of womanhood. The pink color is a mask of the truth that hides behind the reality of what it is being a woman, constantly being suppressed and undermined. Pink is chosen to criticize the stereotype that pink is a “girl color”. These gender color assignments did not begin until the 20th century. Originally, pink was a color for boys and blue was a color for girls because, “pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl” (Grannan). Which is contrary to the modern notion that pink is “girl” color.  This proves that colors should not be associated with a specific gender. 

 In Gwen Stefani’s lyrics she is being forced to hold hands which displays the patriarchal standards of women being forced to be with men to “have” a role in society. Often times, especially in the 90’s women are more recognized and treated with respect if they have a man by their side. Stefani shuts down and criticizes these widely held beliefs that women are worthy only if they are with a man. 

[Chorus]
‘Cause I’m just a girl, oh, little old me


Well, don’t let me out of your sight


Oh, I’m just a girl, all pretty and petite


So don’t let me have any rights

The use of the words “little”, “pretty and petite”, illustrate the societal view of women being seen as dainty and fragile. This ideology makes it difficult for women to progress when they are limited by being viewed as defenseless and needing a man to make any progress. 

[Post-Chorus]
Oh, I’ve had it up to here

[Verse 2]
The moment that I step outside


So many reasons for me to run and hide


I can’t do the little things I hold so dear


‘Cause it’s all those little things that I fear

“So many reasons for me to run and hide” displays the fear that woman constantly face when they are alone. Society has created woman to be afraid of so many things because of what many men have done to women such as rape, murder, etc. The inability in pursuing a normal life highlights the difference between a man and a woman’s day to day life. A man can do anything he wants without fearing for his safety, whereas a woman cannot. 

[Chorus]
‘Cause I’m just a girl, I’d rather not be


‘Cause they won’t let me drive late at night


Oh, I’m just a girl, guess I’m some kind of freak


‘Cause they all sit and stare with their eyes


Oh, I’m just a girl, take a good look at me


Just your typical prototype.

Stefani continues her song by demonstrating strict rules she must follow because she is a female. Because she is a female, she cannot drive late at night. It is incredibly common to be stopped by your parents from going out late at night because you are a woman. Being from a Hispanic household, I would have to beg my parents to let me drive out late. I always knew that if I was not a female, there would be no issue with me driving out at night. These sexist ideologies founded in multiple households do not end with a singular restriction. There are still multiple restrictions that girls from a young age must face because of their gender. These restrictions are even more so emphasized if they are from a non-white household. 

Throughout the video, Stefani is seen in an orange and cyan room with two ladies in blue dresses in a corner. Images of a men’s bathroom in black and white also flash throughout the video. Gwen Stefani is separated from the men’s bathroom which is dirty and grimy which is a foil of the clean bathroom with the two ladies to create symbolism of how society treats women like overly emotional creatures. Stefani stays in this clean bathroom throughout the music video to stay true that Stefani is “safe” in this restroom away from the rest of the world. 

In the end of the music video, both sides (the dirty bathroom vs the clean bathroom) come together to display that woman can handle the “dark parts” of the world, just like men. 

The enduring power of “Just A Girl” by No Doubt lies in its ability to capture the persistent struggles and stereotypes women face, even decades after its initial release. Gwen Stefani’s poignant and satirical lyrics, coupled with the vivid imagery in the music video, highlight the societal constraints placed on women and challenge these outdated norms. 

The song’s performance at the 2024 Coachella Music Festival underscores its timeless relevance and continued resonance with audiences. Through “Just A Girl,” No Doubt not only crafted a feminist anthem but also a cultural critique that remains strikingly relevant in the ongoing discourse on gender equality. The song and its accompanying visuals serve as a powerful reminder of the progress made and the journey still ahead in dismantling gender stereotypes and advocating for women’s autonomy and rights.

Works cited: 

Kelly, J. (2015, May 27). The Kelly Law Team. Phoenix Personal Injury Lawyer. https://www.jkphoenixpersonalinjuryattorney.com/whats-that-about-women-drivers-better-think-again/

‌Grannan, C. (2016). Has Pink Always Been a “Girly” Color?. In Encyclopædia Britannica. https://www.britannica.com/story/has-pink-always-been-a-girly-color

Discovering the Secrets of Aristotle

Posted on by balopez

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe is a young-adult fiction novel written by Benjamin Alire Sáenz, a Mexican American author. The book was published on February 21st, 2012, and was later adapted into a movie released on September 8th, 2023. The story follows two Mexican American teenagers living in El Paso, Texas in 1987

The main characters are Aristotle Mendoza and Dante Quintana who become friends instantaneously after meeting at their local swimming pool. Aristotle also becomes close with Dante’s family and finds comfort in their emotional availability. About a year into their friendship, Dante is beaten in a hate crime for kissing another boy. Aristotle then retaliates physically against the perpetrator. Between these events, both boys go through identity revelations that are crucial to the development of their friendship. In this analysis I will focus on the book version of Aristotle’s character and how assumptions about gender, race, and sexuality affect his portrayal.

Both main characters are considered to have unusual names especially for their time, the late 80’s. When Aristotle first meets Dante, they bond over how uncommon their names are. Dante has completely accepted his name whilst Aristotle prefers to go by a nickname, Ari. Here we are presented with the feeling Aristotle knows all too well, discomfort regarding his name. There are many things in Aristotle’s life that pain him to think about, his identity is at the root of these issues. Teenage boys are often expected to be ‘tough’ and to not outwardly express their emotions but rather suppress them for the fear of appearing ‘feminine.’ 

Unfortunately, Aristotle has grown up seeing this modeled by his father. His father is a Vietnam War veteran with PTSD which deeply impacted his levels of emotional availability for Aristotle. There is no ill-intentioned behind his actions or toxic masculinity agenda his father is attempting to push, but the effect is still detrimental to Aristotle’s psychological development. Here is an example of an argument Aristotle conjures up:

“Obsession, Dad? You know what I’ve learned from you and Mom? I’ve learned not to talk. I’ve learned how to keep everything I feel buried deep inside of me. And I hate you for it” (218).

Having internalized this behavior, Aristotle struggles to navigate the sentimental aspect of his friendship with Dante. He struggles to comprehend how Dante can be so free and in touch with his emotions while also remaining ‘fierce’ and ‘strong.’

“I didn’t understand how you could live in a mean world and not have any of that meanness rub off on you. How could a guy live without some meanness?” (23).

This ‘meanness’ that Aristotle views as a necessity to survive in the world is another belief he has cultivated based on stereotypical gender norms for teenage boys. The concept of ‘silent strength’ is what hurts young boys the most. While Aristotle views this as a defense mechanism, it does the opposite for his mental wellbeing. He finds himself unable to sympathize for Dante when he is feeling hurt, this creates a strain on his end.

“Dante was crying again. And I felt mean because I didn’t feel like crying…I was harder than Dante. I think I’d tried to hide that hardness from him because I’d wanted him to like me” (50).

Dante is frequently used as a foil for Aristotle. Their family dynamics juxtapose one another, specifically in levels of intimacy. Mr. Quintana and Mr. Mendoza are stark opposites. Dante and his father are much more openly affectionate and involved in each other’s lives unlike Aristotle and his father. Their mothers, on the other hand, are relatively similar in terms of providing wisdom. 

“Dante and I were cursed with parents who cared. Why couldn’t they just leave us alone?” (103).

Having involved and caring parents truly benefits children in the long run. As Aristotle and Dante begin to explore and come to terms with their sexualities, the support of their parents becomes invaluable. 

“I think you love him more than you can bear.”

“Dad? Dad, no. No. I can’t. I can’t. Why are you saying these things?”

“Because I can’t stand watching all that loneliness that lives inside you. Because I love you, Ari.” My mother and father watched me cry” (288).

They exist in a politically tense climate for queer individuals because of the AIDs crisis of the 1980’s. Homophobia is extremely prevalent and at an all-time high. As previously divulged, Dante is a victim of a hate crime when he is caught kissing another boy in an alleyway. Aristotle’s rage spirals out of control and he accosts Julian, the perpetrator, at work and beats him. This response was expected from all the years of harbored emotions that have mutated into rage, an effect of the ‘suppression’ gender norm. These events are a breakthrough for Aristotle’s family as they begin to reconvene and heal together from the years of silence.

Community and race are one of the final overarching topics in the novel. Not being ‘Mexican enough’ is a huge talking point for Dante that confuses Aristotle. This is yet another foil between their characters. 

“They don’t like me. They think I’m—well, they think I’m a little different. They’re really Mexican, you know. And I’m sort of, well, what did you call me?”

“A pocho.”

“That’s exactly what I am. My Spanish isn’t great.”

Aristotle feels secure and in touch with his Mexican culture while Dante feels very distant from it. Dante not speaking Spanish (well) is a very common attribute that leads to stratification within Mexican American/ Chicano communities. As a result of this Dante has developed an inferiority complex towards other Spanish-speaking Mexican American teenagers, like Aristotle. The pride of such tight knit Hispanic population in Texas can make the divide feel much greater. Ultimately, Sáenz accurately depicts many challenges faced by both queer persons and/ or Latino’s back then and now.

References

www.latinotimes.org/2024/05/anti-latino-discrimination-created-the-no-sabo-generation/: Discovering the Secrets of Aristotle
www.history.com/topics/1980s/hiv-aids-crisis-timeline: Discovering the Secrets of Aristotle

Read the book instead of watching the movie, it’s significantly better.

Lemonade’s Celebration of Oneself

Posted on by lulieberman

Beauty standards and expectations about how people should act are omnipresent. They largely affect women, particularly Black women. These expectations and standards are perpetuated in various forms of media. 

Watching Beyoncé’s visual album Lemonade gives a much more comprehensive experience than simply listening to the album. The visual album is divided into 11 chapters, all with videos accompanying them. The music videos for each of the 11 songs in Lemonade are also in the visual album; the visual album incorporates a medley of references and cameos, including highlighting the prose of Warsan Shire. 

Beyoncé accompanied by notable individuals, including Zendaya and Amandla Stenberg, in the chapter “Redemption” while speaking Shire’s prose

Although much of the media is made with the white male gaze in mind, Beyoncé’s visual album Lemonade strays from this trend. Beyoncé tells her story from her perspective, how she wants to tell it, and narrates in the way she sees best fits. Women of color are victims of numerous harmful stereotypes in the media, such as the “angry Black woman” stereotype, and generally being portrayed as hypersexual. Black women are oftentimes minimized to be seen just as these harmful stereotypes, stripping them of their individuality. Lemonade shows Black women in more than one way. Beyoncé illustrates the diversity of Black women, smashing various stereotypical images down. 

Beyoncé allows herself and other Black women to express their emotions unapologetically within Lemonade. Women are generally expected to be composed, submissive, and suppress emotions. If a woman does express her emotions, she is often quickly labeled emotional or irrational. Black women expressing emotions are especially stigmatized. Beyoncé does not hide her emotions but instead showcases them. Each chapter’s title relates to emotion. The stages of emotion, as shown through the chapters, subverts the unidimensional view of Black women and successfully allows Beyoncé to illustrate Black women’s complexity. By showing the versatility of Black women, she defies the generally monolithic representation in the media. She humanizes Black women in the media by creating Lemonade and displaying emotions in a raw, exposed manner.

Beyoncé teary-eyed while singing “Sandcastles”

Throughout the visual album, Beyoncé does not shy away from expressing her anger to avoid the label of an “angry Black woman.” During “Hold Up,” Beyoncé is seen strutting down a street holding a baseball bat with a sly grin on her face. She releases her anger throughout the song, causing destruction, including smashing windows and battering cars. Her sheer fury continues to be seen in “Don’t Hurt Yourself,” where she continues to embrace emotions like anger that Black women are taught to subdue, labeling herself “the dragon breathing fire.” She has a right to be angry without worrying about how others perceive it. She exercises that right, illustrating that anger is a normal emotion that an individual should be able to express without being put within the “angry Black woman” trope. Later in the song, viewers can hear the anguish in her voice as she screams, “Tonight I’m fucking up all your shit, boy” while staring into the camera. She powerfully shares what she feels. It is much more normalized for men than women to express rage and anger, often even being labeled as a masculine trait. When women do express rage, they are quickly described as a bitch or crazy. She normalizes outwardly expressing anger without resistance from others.

Beyoncé smashing a car window in “Hold Up”

Beyoncé calls attention to how beauty standards have a greater impairment on women of color, including herself. Individuals portrayed in the media have been altered to fit beauty standards, so when viewers can not find themselves in the media- since anyone who once represented the viewer likely has been altered- it sends a message to the viewer that they are not good enough. In the chapter, “Denial,” Beyoncé shares how she resorted to trying to change: she fasted, wore white, tried to be prettier, grew her hair out, bathed in bleach, etc. Some of the ways she wanted to change herself to cope with feelings of inadequacy affect women regardless of race. However, many aspects of beauty standards constrict women of color disproportionately in comparison to white women. A lot of those have to do with the Eurocentric beauty standard and labels that women are supposed to conform to.

Beyoncé’s perception of herself and her identity evolve throughout Lemonade. By the end of the album, she has learned to embrace aspects of her identity that don’t fit the Eurocentric beauty standard. In the last song, “Formation,” she sings about how she likes her nose and her baby’s afro. She embraces aspects of her identity she once may have thought to be unsatisfactory since they did not align with the European beauty standard. The pressure to assimilate to fit beauty standards is not often talked about. Beyoncé’s honesty and vulnerability shed light on the problem. She admits to wanting to conform and then takes ownership of herself and her power.

Beyoncé and others powerfully dance during lyrics about embracing features in “Formation”

Beyoncé’s visual album Lemonade, is a work of art full of intention. From the outfits to scenery to poignant celebrity appearances, Beyoncé chose each aspect of the album to serve a purpose and can essentially all be analyzed. While Beyoncé does shed light on issues related to gender in Lemonade, that is only the tip of the iceberg of what she explores and sends messages about within. 

Can a Girlboss really be a Tradwife?

Posted on by nimasterman

Growing up my own mother was a stay-at-home mom and she worked incredibly hard. More importantly, she chose that lifestyle when she and my dad decided to have children. I am beyond grateful and extraordinarily privileged to have had a mother who was at home when I got home from school, around to take me to sports practices, and take care of me when I was sick.

Picture of a social media tradwife, posting for her followers

One day when scrolling on Instagram, I was introduced to the term tradwife. On the left is a screenshot of a similar video, where a woman promoting to her followers to be guided by her actions, which were aimed at a more “traditional” view of what a woman should be doing.First of all, this post is pushing heteronormative ideology onto the following, assuming that a wife is dolling herself up for a husband. Language like “doll” is derogatory towards women, assuming that they need to alter their appearance just for their significant other. Additionally, assuming the husband is coming home from work emphasizes patriarchal societal standards.

According to Google, a “tradwife (a neologism for traditional wife or traditional housewife) is a woman who believes in and practices traditional gender roles and marriages.” Traditional refers to performing actions like women did in the 20th century, when they were seen primarily as caretakers and cooks for the family.

This view seems to be backwards from the modern 21st century view on what women are capable of doing both as mothers and as professionals. In no way do I think that it is bad or wrong to want to be a tradwife but, there is one issue I have with them and that is what the article The Surprising Convergence of Girlbosses and Tradwives aims to convey.

Example of the style of women tradwives are attempting to replicate

This article links the tradwife to the girlboss, which is a woman who is hyperfocused on her career. You might be asking how would a tradwife, a woman who is primarily taking care of her husband, children, and house, also be able to be a girlboss? Well, like my introduction to tradwives, many opt to film their tasks or thoughts and post them on social media. The article states that being a tradwife in modern society is nothing like the 20th century lifestyle.

“We might assume that tradwives hearken back to an earlier “backward” mode of femininity and marriage. But this way of being in the world is unmistakably modern because it involves “choice” and entrepreneurship. It is not enough for a tradwife to simply focus on her husband and kids, she must be entrepreneurial about it. She must blog about it, vlog about it, become an influencer. This is where the “girlboss” mentality comes in.”

(The Surprising Convergence of Girlbosses and Tradwives 2024)

The quote above highlights another aspect where modern tradwives are problematic. As soon as a tradwife becomes an influencer, her main objective has moved from caring for a family to influencing their following and pushing their ideals onto others. Because these women chose to utilize social media and display to the world their ideal way of life, they are using their influence as a powerful tool. They still attempt to attain the unrealistic beauty standards that are concurrent with the “backward” mode of femininity, yet they feel the need to post about it on social media as well. Social media tradwives, like the one in the screenshot before, preach putting family above all else, but at what point does the necessity to cater to a following dictate the actions of an influencer? Moreover, the need to both be entrepreneurs and caretakers and mothers takes away crucial time and energy necessary for each role. Being a social media influencer takes the demands of a full-time job by having to record, re-record, edit videos, brainstorm new ideas, etc. To balance those demands with the already strenuous lifestyle of taking care of a family is counterproductive.

I think that this article is a great read for those that care about the portrayals and standards of women in modern society. It highlights the backwards thinking of social media tradwives, who inherently believe in strong family centric and patriarchal values, but still feel compelled to post their lifestyle on social media. The article dives further into the reasons many women have to become tradwives, especially for women of color. The article cites black tradwives as saying, “we have decided it’s way too exhausting to run the family and corporate America at the same time” (Girlbosses and Tradwives 2024). There is definitely truth to this statement, especially since women of color are valued less in the labor market. For these women, who are paid less and discriminated against in the corporate workplace, the appeal to live as a tradwife is apparent.

Overall, the overlap between tradwife and girlboss is a real phenomenon in the modern age of social media. But when and where is the blurry line drawn between the two labels and at what point do the goals of and priorities of one overtake the other?

Feminist Mixtape: Lizzo’s “Like A Girl”

Posted on by Former Student

When I first heard about this assignment, I immediately thought of Lizzo’s “Like A Girl.” To me, it is the epitome of a feminist anthem that proclaims the power of women.

Woke up feelin’ like I just might run for President
Even if there ain’t no precedent, switchin’ up the messaging
I’m about to add a little estrogen
Buy my whip by myself
Pay my rent by myself

Only exes that I care about are in my fucking chromosomes
I don’t really need you, I’m Macaulay Culkin home alone
Bad bitch, diamonds in my collarbone
Buy my whip by myself
Pay my rent by myself

This opening verse is an embodiment of female power. In Lizzo’s eyes, there’s never been a female president—so what? There needs to be, and I can do it! It is incredibly self-empowering and asserts the independence of women. Who needs a man to help pay rent? I’m doing just fine on my own.

Sugar, spice, and I’m nice
Show me what you’re made of
Crazy, sexy, cool, baby
With or without makeup
Got nothing to prove
But I’ma show you how I do

I really enjoy these lyrics because they take the common stereotypical image of a woman or belief of what women should be—“sugar, spice, and everything nice”—and both accept it and turn it on its head. Lizzo asserts that she is sugar, spice, and nice, but also crazy, sexy, and cool—with or without makeup. This is fighting back against the idea that women are only beautiful with makeup or that makeup is a method to cover insecurities or build confidence. Lizzo is saying that she wears makeup because she wants to, not because she needs to—she’s sexy without it too and she doesn’t have to prove it to you.

Find me up in Magic City bustin’ hundreds by the bands
And I throw it like a girl
Throw it, throw it like a girl
Hangin’ out the 750
Feelin’ bossy in my city
‘Cause I run it like a girl
Run it, run it like a girl
I work my femininity
I make these boys get on their knees
Now watch me do it, watch me do it
Look it, look it, I’ma do it
Like a girl (like a girl)
Like a girl (like a girl)

In modern culture, the phrase “like a girl” has a negative connotation: if you throw like a girl or hit like a girl, you’re doing it weakly or daintily. Lizzo is arguing the opposite. She’s painting her “throwing it and running it” like a girl as powerful and strong, and perhaps even surpassing the power and strength of boys as she sings “I make these boys get on their knees.”

Shoot the car through the fire, light the kerosene (we can do it)
Lauryn Hill told me everything is everything (we can do it)
Serena Willy showed me I can win the Wimbledon (we can do it)
Put me on a pedestal
Bet on me, bet I will

Here, Lizzo is citing specific women as inspiration for her self-empowerment. She mentions Lauryn Hill, who is often regarded as one of the most influential musicians of her generation and one of the greatest rappers of all time, and Serena Williams, who is among the greatest tennis players of all time, as encouragement for her realization of what she can do. The background vocals also chant “we can do it,” a reference to Rosie the Riveter’s popular phrase that asserts female empowerment.

So if you fight like a girl, cry like a girl
Do your thing, run the whole damn world
If you feel like a girl then you real like a girl
Do your thing, run the whole damn world
If you fight like a girl, cry like a girl
Do your thing, run the whole damn world
If you feel like a girl then you real like a girl
Do your thing, run the whole damn world

This echoes the earlier positive reframing of the phrase “like a girl.” I also especially like the line “If you feel like a girl then you real like a girl.” To me, this is an intentional effort to include trans women in the conversation, saying that trans women are also real women and are just as powerful.

Overall, this song is a wonderful feminist anthem that encourages women to claim their rightful power and strength. Its message is that of self-empowerment and self-love. I highly recommend that everyone listen to it whenever they need a good confidence boost.

Sexing The Body: Questioning The Binary

Posted on by Former Student

In our current political climate, Conservative pundits spew MUCH misinformation regarding gender and its relation to sex. The common belief in the conservative western world is that sex and gender are interchangeable and distinctly binary. The progressive viewpoint, which seemingly contradicts that of the conservatives, accepts the gender binary as a social construct but maintains that the sex binary is indeed embedded in reality. Author, Feminist, and Biologist Dr. Anne Fausto-Sterling challenges these beliefs in her book Sexing the Body. The underlining question of the book: mainstream political and medical discourse tends to agree on the sex binary (male/female), is this rooted in biological truth? 

Dr. Anne Fausto-Sterling is a renowned American sexologist who pioneered the Anti-Binary ? movement. She has written extensively on the topic of sex and gender, including several books and opinion pieces in multiple prominent newspapers. Due to her scientific background, Fausto-Sterling provides a unique argument for HUMAN REJECTION OF THE SEX BINARY, WHICH HAS GROWN MUCH BROADER AND BIGGER SINCE SHE PUBLISHED THE FIRST EDITION IN XX. Fausto-Sterling is best known for her work “The Five Sexes,” which calls for broadening the sex binary to include three additional categories. https://www2.kobe-u.ac.jp/~alexroni/IPD%202016%20readings/IPD%202016_3/FAUSTO_STERLING-2000-The_Sciences%205%20sexes%20revisited.pdf In Sexing The Body, Fausto-Sterling analyzes research and medical practices (1700s-Present) related to reinforcing the sex binary. As a feminist and biologist, Fausto-Sterling examines THIS research through scientific and social lenses. Her analysis follows a similar pattern, a summary of the research question, an explanation of the actual study and its findings, and a lengthy examination of its questionable conclusions. 

Fausto-Sterling opens with an issue relevant to contemporary debate; the classification of female athletes. Until the late 1960s, Olympic woman athletes seeking to verify their sex for competition were asked to “parade naked in front of a board of examiners” (3). This blatant violation of personal health reinforces Fausto-Sterling’s belief in the sex binary. If sex is confirmed through visual inspection — “Breasts and a vagina were all one needed to certify one’s femininity” (3) — then is it impossible that the binary can exist; because a person could show both ovarian and testicular tissue. Through visual inspection, the board is not conforming to the actual sex of the subject. It is instead comparing the subject to their social understanding of a woman. Fausto concludes, “We may use scientific knowledge to help us make the decision, but only our beliefs about gender—not science—can define our sex” (5). Identifications have long been glorified assumptions, and biological truths are at odds with the male/female binary. 

Fausto-Sterling’S rejection of the male/female binary is at odds with most scientific and medical beliefs. Fausto-Sterling argues that doctors and scientists alike are not looking to address sex from a truthful and biological standpoint but are instead REVISE a product of fear and “deep confusion that arises when it [sex] can’t be easily determined” (30). The “scientific” classification of sex is additionally meant to support the “natural dominance of male over female hormones” (164). Inter-sex or hermaphrodite persons are at odds with this scientific community. Today children born WITH ” “either/or—neither/both” GENITALS—a fairly commonNOT UNCOMMON? phenomenon—usually disappear from view because doctors “correct” them right away with surgery.” (31). Fausto-Sterling argues that INTERSEX persons pose such a risk to our societal structure at large because we rely on the binary system. But if we eliminate those at odds with our biologically “correct” system, isn’t it biologically incorrect? Conservative movements point to the idea of “biology” as a way of endorsing the two-sex, two-gender NORM. However,  a further dive into the reality of biology reveals that regularly and naturally, people defy these classifications. Fausto-Sterling asks that we move to a medical system that “permits ambiguity to thrive” (101). There are, without a doubt, variations of sex that exist; it is time our medical practices accept them. 

The author includes studies regarding hormonal research to demonstrate the relationship between respected biological studies and the pervasive and unfounded assumption of two sexes. Researchers  “never questioned the fundamental assumption that there are only two sexes because their goal in studying intersexuals was to find out more about ‘‘normal’’ development” (46). Fausto-Sterling underlines that the majority of intersex and sex hormone research is reliant on the assumption of a sex binary and that this binary is a “false dichotomy” (27). Researchers and doctors sought to correct the confusion around intersex folk by attributing them to the “cultural conceptions of maleness” (59) or femaleness and carrying out medical procedures that endorsed the dichotomy. Fausto-Sterling comes to two bold and well-supported claims: 1. The sex binary is not biologically accurate 2. the medical community and medical research have never questioned the legitimacy of the sex binary and only seek to reinforce it. 

Fausto-Sterling is strongest in her understanding and critique of scientific processes, but her piece lacks in other areas. First, Fausto-Sterling is thoughtful and diligent in her writing regarding intersex persons; but her writing regarding transgender and binary persons seems like an afterthought. It appears that Fausto-Sterling is most concerned with medical discrimination during unwanted procedures (intersex) but pushes aside alterations of sex that are requested (transgender) and how they experience similar discrimination. Secondly, Fausto-Sterling’s strength is indeed her scientific exploration of the topic. But the pages of complex explanations, which I am certain adequately back up her claims, are dull and far from engaging. Lastly, FAILS to grapple with the racial implications of a failed medical system. Fausto-Sterling’s exploration of intersex medical intervention is overwhelmingLY white-centric, and the author fails to mention centuries of sterilization against the black community Fausto-Sterling’s inability to analyze her position from a radicalized lens severely limits the credibility of her argument 

Although Fausto-Sterling lacks in certain areas, it is difficult not to applaud her work. Fausto-Sterling challenges mainstream academia; she is unapologetic in her UNPOPULAR? beliefs and successfully backs them up. It is her dual credentials that provide such a convincing argument. Her ability to critique historically accepted research from a feminist and biological standpoint provides multidisciplinary reasoning. Fausto-Sterling provides diagrams that are especially helpful in understanding the research being explained — specifically the rat diagrams and pictures regarding natural sexual interactions. Fausto-Sterling’s plea for a more accepting model, which refuses the sole dichotomy of male/female, provides the reader with a conclusive answer to the issue at hand; and a system that enables naturally inter-sexual people to exist is far from controversial. Fausto-Sterling is uniquely successful in de-radicalizing a concept — abolishing the sex binary —  that can, at times, appear TOO radical. 

I strongly recommend Sexing The Body to every reader, especially those interested in the history of medicine. The book is somewhat time-consuming but yields life-changing and necessary information. Before I read this book, I, too, subscribed to the mainstream belief in the sex binary and brushed inter-sex people off as medical enigmas. This book has taught me that the non-female/male sexes exist naturally in our world and inherently contradict the two-sex model. I am aware of the controversy surrounding the claim Fausto-Sterling is making, and for this reason, I doubt this literature will find its way into MANY K-12 schools; this underscores the necessity to seek out information outside of what is handed to us and question what is. Sexing The Body will do just that. 

Sources:

  1. “Home – Dr. Anne Fausto-Sterling.” Dr. Anne Fausto-Sterling, 3 Oct. 2016, www.annefaustosterling.com.

2. “Sexing the Body: Gender Politics and the Construction of Sexuality: 9780465077144: Fausto-Sterling, Anne: Books.” Sexing the Body: Gender Politics and the Construction of Sexuality: 9780465077144: Fausto-Sterling, Anne: Books, 30 Nov. 2000, www.amazon.com/Sexing-Body-Politics-Construction-Sexuality/dp/0465077145.

Authority and Uncertainty in Trans Medicine

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For decades, transgender medicine has been a site of confusion, fascination, and intense conflict. There remains disagreement in how to provide gender-affirming medical interventions as well as how to determine who should receive it. Stef Shuster (they/them) tackles these questions in their book Trans Medicine: The Emergence and Practice of Treating Gender. They argue that the uncertainty in trans medicine has led to a medicalization of gender that identifies medical providers as experts and ignores trans people’s expertise in their individual bodies and experiences. Because contemporary medical perspectives are influenced by old assumptions about gender, this power dynamic perpetuates inequalities in healthcare.

When the era of what we now know to be trans medicine first began, the few healthcare providers who entered the field faced intense backlash from those who viewed such interventions to be inappropriate or even immoral (26). To protect themselves from the critique, medical providers who treated transgender patients corresponded extensively with each other, creating a shared understanding of trans medicine and establishing a sense of authority within the field (24). The focus became on “normalizing” trans people’s bodies and experiences—strict guidelines were set for who could be provided with medical intervention. Providers needed to be assured that their patient would be able to “successfully” live in their target gender; this definition of successful was entirely based in the medical and scientific community’s expectations for gender conformity and sexuality (24). Anything that deviated was met with suspicion that the patient was not truly transgender. Due to this, trans patients were judged based on appearance and were subject to intensive questioning about their personal life in order to establish their credibility (34). Trans people who did not fit these expectations were deemed unworthy of access to gender-affirming medical interventions (24). The author argues that due to the strict guidelines enacted to establish medical authority, trans people were forced to acquiesce to public expectations of gender conformity in order to receive gender-affirming medical care.

Still, uncertainty on how to determine who should receive gender-affirming care remained, leading physicians to reach out to psychiatrists and psychologists for assistance in assessment with the expectation that they would support their recommendations (50). Rather than working together, however, each group of healthcare providers argued that their field’s method of understanding transgenderism was sufficient. The author argues that this disagreement resulted in a battle over which field of medicine should claim power and authority over transgender treatment (49). Not long after psychiatrists and psychologists began assisting with the evaluation of trans patients, they began to offer recommendations for allowing or denying access to gender-affirming care, much to the physicians’ dismay, who thought their only role should be in assessing patients’ mental health (51). This resulted in a battle for not only power, but legitimacy as both sides questioned whether the other was equipped to claim authority.

Psychiatrists and psychologists, like physicians, focused on transgender patients’ personal lives in assessing them for receiving gender-affirming intervention: they also made recommendations based off gender conformity and physical appearance (59). However, they needed another way to distinguish their authority from that of physicians, so they turned to taking explicit sexual histories in order to ensure the credibility of transgender patients. They wanted to ensure that people were not using gender-affirming medical transition as a method of ignoring homosexuality (60-1). Shuster argues that this further subjected transgender people to adhering to the strict binary of gender and gender roles: therapists assumed that trans people would leave their existent families and go establish new, heterosexual ones where they would fulfill the familial role of their new gender. Therapists based their recommendation off trans patients’ intentions to do so (61-2). The efforts of both physicians and therapists were to assert their authority in trans medicine by establishing scientific guidelines in which to abide by and quell the uncertainty that existed in the field.

In contemporary transgender medicine, this uncertainty remains. Evidence-based medicine (EBM) has rapidly increased in popularity arising from critique that medicine needed to be more objective and standardized (77). Rather than basing guidelines off personal expectations as before, EBM represented an effort to base recommendations off scientific evidence. The author argues that in contemporary trans medicine, providers attempted to confirm the legitimacy of trans medicine by constructing evidence and codifying expectations (78). Codifying the trans experience led to it becoming a diagnosis: “gender dysphoria.” Shuster argues that this is a “double-edged sword:” a diagnosis increases the likelihood that insurance companies will reimburse out-of-pocket expenses for gender-affirming care, but it also implies that transgenderism is an illness (80).

Despite this, there was no clear path for clinical guidelines to follow in trans medicine because there was no scientific evidence: there were no randomized control trials determining risks or benefits of medical intervention (85). Trans medicine has rather been supported by case studies and patient reports (86). Because of the lack of scientific evidence, there remains ambiguity in the guidelines for providing gender-affirming care, leaving decision-making regarding trans care largely up to the discretion of the provider and allowing decision-making to be influenced by norms and societal factors. With healthcare providers vying to claim expertise, patients cannot claim the expertise over their gender identities themselves (88).

Shuster argues that this discomfort in the lack of scientific evidence has also resulted in a lack of confidence in healthcare providers in treating trans patients (90). Having been taught EBM, providers feel unequipped. Trans medicine is not taught broadly in medical schools (90). This discomfort and lack of experience in working with trans people leads to providers unintentionally exhibiting trans exceptionalism—where trans patients are perceived to be so unique that it is difficult for providers to use their knowledge and experience in other areas of medicine to inform their decision-making regarding trans patients (4). This makes it difficult for trans people to find a provider who feels comfortable working with them (91). The lack of scientific evidence backing gender-affirming care and lack of knowledge of the risks makes providers even more hesitant to offer access, particularly when trans people have coexisting conditions that may be affected. Though the guidelines no longer dictate gender conformity, their ambiguity allows providers to turn away trans people with mental health disorders or other health conditions due to the potential risk (95-97).

In summary, the author argues that due to the fact that medical providers are not trained in trans medicine, there exists uncertainty in how to assess trans patients and how to go about providing gender-affirming medical interventions. Because of this, there has a been an ongoing power struggle between different fields of healthcare in who can claim expertise in trans medicine and offer recommendations for care. This has medicalized understanding of gender and has given medical providers authority over gender, leaving trans patients at the whim of physicians’ interpretations of the ambiguous clinical guidelines based in EBM (104). This unintentionally perpetuates healthcare inequalities because decision-making is influenced by societal factors, cultural norms, and historical contexts (159). Their conclusive argument is that medical providers should not have authority over gender identity, nor should they impose medicalized understandings of gender onto trans people’s experiences: providers must advocate for their trans patients’ needs and place more trust in their patients’ expertise over their own bodies (164-6).

To support their arguments, the author employed several different methods of research. First, to provide historical context of transgender medicine, they examined letters of correspondence between medical providers in the 20th century found in the archives of the Kinsey Institute (11). These documents provided the discourse present in the medical and scientific communities on how providers were to make decisions regarding eligibility for gender-affirming medical interventions. From these Shuster gained knowledge of the assumptions that medical providers had when working with trans patients (11). They then conducted interviews with therapists and physicians from a wide variety of specialties and geographical locations. These interviews informed them how old assumptions of gender continue to influence contemporary structure of trans medicine and its lack of certainty today (12). The author also attended healthcare conferences and observed how providers taught each other to work with patient populations. Lastly, they examined diagnostic criteria and clinical guidelines related to transgender medicine from leading health organizations (13).

In conclusion, Shuster argues for the focus in trans medicine to be shifted away from the expertise of medical providers and onto the individual experiences of trans people. They call for better training in medical schools, increased research into the long-term effects of medical interventions such as hormones, and increased focus to be put on the healthcare disparities that trans people experience. Trans medicine is a place where science and values can coexist, and it needs to be redefined that way.

Book Report: The Tragedy of Heterosexuality

Posted on by Former Student
The Tragedy of Heterosexuality

“To the straight people reading this book, let me say with all my love and solidarity, I am your ally” (Ward, 13). Who knew that such a normalized sexuality – heterosexuality – could result in the depressing lives of both parties? In Jane Ward’s scholarly monograph The Tragedy of Heterosexuality, she examines the normalized problems inside hetero-relationships, like misogyny, toxic masculinity, and gender roles. Because of these problems, women feel like many parts of their lives are trivial compared to men; on the other hand, men don’t feel secure in their own manhood to “pick up” a woman and keep them around. Let’s dive into why Ward says such things, and why Ward ends the book with “Straight men do not need to be queered; they need to learn to like women” (Ward, 171).

Beside The Tragedy of Heterosexuality, Jane Ward, a professor of Feminist Studies at University of California Santa Barbara, has written two other books: Not Gay: Sex Between Straight White Men, which was published in 2015, and Respectably Queer: Diversity Culture in LGBT Activist Organizations, which was published in 2008. With these published books, Ward has written about various topics, such as “trans relationships”, “the evolution of straight culture”, “the meaning of sex between straight-identfied men”, and more (these topics as well as the complete information of Jane Ward will be linked). Because of these previous works, Ward knows the reality of, in this case, straight people and their couple troubles. She has been aware of such topics early on, to which one could say she has an expertise in these fields. Even if not straight herself, Ward seems to know more than enough than one might expect.

As the book starts, Ward tells the reader that she views the life of “‘straight culture’…through a queer, feminist lens.” To put the problem of “straight culture” into perspective, Ward, as a queer person herself states, “Straight women’s lives are very, very hard. It’s not that it ‘gets better’ for queer people; it’s that heterosexuality is often worse.” With this line, I kind of reflected and thought how true it is – of course queer lives get better, but never realized how hard heterosexuality actually is. Growing up and accepting the fact that one is queer is already hard enough, but to put this context into the actual world of men trying to get with women is already depressing enough. This idea of sexism and toxic masculinity takes over straight culture, to which women and men can not have a successful life with one another because of these coinciding problems. How can men expect more from women when they can not expect more out of themselves? Men are too scared to break out of this heteronormative shell to which they resort of to the seduction of women and plain sexism. 

There is a shift from women doing things to themselves – dieting, shaving, waxing, dying – to deem themselves worthy of a man’s “love,” now to men who realize that their bodies may not be enough to attract a woman’s love, such as being too bald, too short, or too fat. Because of this shift in men’s views, some men have started going to get help from pickup artists, which is, essentially, the idea of “how fast am I able to inappropriately touch you?” During this rise of pickup artists, Strauss’s book The Game was introduced; because of this, the pickup industry expanded into bootcamps, allowing for usually men to give men a lesson on how to get “game,” which is the same idea of seducing woman – how to get a woman into you and getting with her the same night (Ward, 87). As years passed, men slowly started to realize this isn’t what girls need or what – they want to feel seen, heard, and reassured; as a matter of fact, we know women don’t want to be seduced because women have developed “survival strategies…to manage sexual objectification” – these strategies being “bitch shields (i.e., being rude to, or ignoring, men) and shit tests (i.e., insulting men)” (Ward, 99). Women want men who are capable of showing these range of emotions, not the typical self-destructive men who needed a woman to “save” them and make them feel like woman actually had a job other than sex (Ward, 109). Like said earlier, as time moved, these pickup artist industry got more progressive (at least some of them, like Project Rockstar, who had better – younger, more attractive – instructors teaching men how to properly “game”: “thinking beyond consent to consider the quality of women’s sexual experiences, and using spot-on metaphors to help each other conceptualize good, humanizing sex” (Ward, 115). With this shift to a more progressive pickup artist industry, 

One strength about Ward’s writing is her tendency to use others’ work as examples, which strengthen Ward’s own argument. For example, during chapter 4, Ward uses her queer acquaintances and friends as more opinions onto straight life and its culture; with these opinions, she is able to reinforce her own perspective to something more reliable and accurate. She’s also able to draw out something more from these different opinions and perspectives. Additionally, another strength with Ward’s writing is critique a problem – with detail – within straight culture, and is able to offer a solution or workarounds to be able to enjoy a relationship where men actually love women and vice versa. 

While I admire almost everything about the book, one weakness about the book is  the lack of perspectives coming from the other side. Yes, I agree this is something that shouldn’t have another side, and that dismantling this patriarchy is ultimately the step that allows for something more in these relationships. However, one effective strategy, I would say, is that Ward would be better off using rebuttals to her perspective, and counter those arguments, which also give the mentality of “Nothing-to-lose.” Here’s what I mean: for example, within the pickup industry, some men had “that nothing-to-lose frame of mind that allows men to approach women they would otherwise find intimidating” (Ward, 104). By refuting these opinions coming from the other side of this battle, we can then give women and men a same state of mind, allowing them to try these new, which they somehow deem “queer,” like exploring sexual, such as polyamory or “pegging.”

After reading this book, I realized that some of these issues did not occur to me. While I am queer myself and know there has always been issues within straight relationships, I never knew what specifically. Reflecting on my past years, I recognize how little my life has been filled with straight relationships and their problems. I have three sisters, so of course I’ve been exposed to that of hetero couples, but have never actually noticed the problems embedded within. This book has put out more than I realized could be wrong with straight relationships, such as how men are scared of hurting their manhood in any way and would rather dismiss their female partner and their feelings and/or interests (I knew men were scared of hurting their manhood, but did not know until now how they would treat their partner just to protect themselves). While this book has a specific audience range consisting of mostly straight people, I say anyone with an open-mind should read this book. While some people may not consider themselves straight, I think this book provides a great opportunity to know more of the world around us revolving around straight culture. To some degree, I would not say there is a specific audience; although it mostly takes place within these hetero-relationships and they should be the one to fix it – through communicating and experimenting – I think those outside of the straight community also play as a role to disassemble this hetero-patriarchy: as Ward, a queer person, says herself, “I wish for them that their lust for one another might be genuinely born out of mutual regard and solidarity.” For straight women, this book does a great job at giving light to these problems; it can be freeing to have a book dedicated to the ways your life can be improved. Thus, I think this book has something in store for everyone, and we could all learn a thing or two as the principle of love is something mentioned, even if towards straight men. 

Works Cited

Ward, Jane. “Jane Ward: Scholarship for the Feminist Future.” Jane Ward, https://www.janewardphd.com/. 

Ward, Jane. The Tragedy of Heterosexuality. New York University Press, 2020.

Stef M. Shuster: Trans Medicine, The Emergence and Practice of Treating Gender

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GSS Book Review

Hale Robinson

            Although the emergence of trans-medicine as a discipline and the discourse surrounding it appears rather recent, transgender healthcare has existed since the early 20th century (Schuster 23). Despite this, physicians and other medical professionals are both hesitant and inexperienced in regard to the treatment of transgendered individuals. The book Trans Medicine, The Emergence and Practice of Treating Gender details how and why this disinclination to treat transgendered patients has occurred and the consequences of medical authority over gender and sexuality. Furthermore, the author seeks to identify practices and ideologies that have been normalized and “legitimized” in the decades of trans-medicine. Through this short publication, Schuster analyzes both contemporary and historical trans-medicine systems and norms in addition to specific examples highlighting the interactions between varying forms of healthcare and their implications on trans-medicine as a whole. From this we can understand how trans-healthcare provides a middle ground for intersection of personal values and scientific thought.

            To compile the examples and evidence presented in the book, author Stef M. Schuster used a multi-sited research design (Schuster 11). The majority of Schuster’s research is his collection of correspondence between healthcare providers in the 20th and 21st century (Schuster 2). Schuster also relies upon biological artifacts, collections of discourse, and other forms of scientific literature. (Schuster 6). Additionally, the author is an associate sociology professor at Michigan State University with a M.A. and Ph.D. in sociology and has conducted a number of interviews with both therapists and physicians as well as attended scholarly conferences on the topic of trans-medicine (Schuster 12). His final source of data collection came in the form of analyzing clinical guidelines, standards of care, and diagnostic criteria used by both contemporary and historical physicians (Schuster 13). Finally, the author notes that terminology surrounding gender and sexuality is fluid and specific word choice in the book may not be representative of the terminology used in the past or future.

            Early development of trans-medicine began in the mid-1950s in the post-World War II era (Schuster 23). Public trust in scientific communities to solve social and biological ills was at an all-time high (Schuster 23). According to Schuster, this increase in medical authority over gender and sexuality and the power difference between doctor and patient is one of the root causes of why trans-medicine has made little progress from the 20th to 21st centuries (Schuster 24). While there have been attempts to decentralize authority of medical providers, many still hold the view that the “doctor knows best” (Schuster 9). In terms of trans-healthcare, this mindset has resulted in a number of subsequent issues. Medicalization refers to “the process of how non-medical problems become defined and treated as medical problems” (Schuster 9). Through medicalization and especially regarding transgender-healthcare, social issues about bodies and bodily autonomy become scientific issues.

Schuster argues that the medicalization of transgenderism resulted in early physicians perceiving transgender patients as “severely troubled” and transgenderism was understood in terms of symptoms of “delusional thinking” (Schuster 24). On one hand, Schuster details how the medicalization of trans-sexuality excited physicians as it was a new uncharted form of medicine. On the other hand, many physicians were hesitant and felt unequipped to treat transgendered patients. As Schuster details in chapter 1, few endocrinologists and physicians in the U.S. were willing to assist transgender individuals out of fear of criticism from peers, revoking of medical licenses, and possible patient regret and future lawsuits following procedures (Schuster 24). It is from this medicalization and hesitance to treat patients that specific guidelines and evidence-based medicine (EBM) emerged. Providers began placing increased expectations onto their transgender patients in an attempt to ensure that the patient was truly willing to undergo hormone/surgical procedures. Schuster states that from these expectations, new scientific language, approaches, and guidelines for trans-medicine were created (Schuster 64). The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) and the World Professional Association for Transgender Healthcare (WPATH) sought to define transgenderism and create a step-by-step protocol to treating transgender patients respectively (Schuster 80). While guidelines may serve as a “handrail” in other forms of medicine, Schuster explains that the steps outlined in the guidelines suggest a linear pathway, while gender transitions tend to be anything but linear and vary from individual to individual (Schuster 105). Furthermore, standardizing and defining transgenderism is ineffective as trans people’s experiences and self-concepts may not fit into binary modes of thought. Not all transgender patients have similar experiences and the notion that gender is fluid (not just extremes) is hard to process for many.

In addition to the medicalization of trans-sexuality, Schuster argues that certain strategies and mindsets have become normalized in trans-healthcare. One of these strategies is what he calls the “fake it till you make it” mindset (Schuster 131). Because few providers are trained in the social contexts and manifestation of gender, this lack of understanding causes discomfort amongst medical professionals. Many have trouble admitting their lack of knowledge in a field which further causes incorrect practices to become normalized over time (Schuster 134). Schuster also details the trope of the “self-assured expert” who present information in ways that leave little room for discourse and change (Schuster 138). Additionally, some solely follow clinical guidelines and understand trans identification as a clear, straight pathway “from point A (assigned gender at birth) to point B (undergoing a physical transition to the “other” binary gender)” (Schuster 138). The final and perhaps most prevalent strategy that Schuster recalls is “gate-keeping” and defining who is “truly” transgender (Schuster 106). To protect themselves from being sued by a patient, many providers were strict (and still are today) about who is able to obtain treatment procedures (Schuster 94). Schuster identified the following techniques that providers used to determine who would be able to receive hormone therapy. To begin, individuals who did not engage in illegal or risky activities indicated to providers that they could function as a “normal” person upon transitioning (Schuster 72). Second, those who were able to pass the “real life test” or live their life as if they had already received transgender treatment proved to providers that the patient was committed to go all the way with the procedures (Schuster 39). Finally, trans-patients whose ideologies closely aligned with traditional gender roles were significantly more likely to receive hormone therapy and surgical interventions (Schuster 16).

Schuster argues that progress in transgender medicine in recent times has been minimal. While he does not explicitly provide any solutions, he does detail specific providers who are making beneficial progress in trans-healthcare by utilizing smarter and favorable practices. He defines “flexible interpreters” as providers of trans-medicine who are able to “embrace the uncertainty in trans medicine and interpret the guidelines in ways that puts patients’ needs, and their varied ways of identifying as trans, first” (Schuster 117). In other words, these are medical professionals who are able to find a balance between social values and scientific fact and who refer to guidelines as recommendations rather than laws (Schuster 117). According to Schuster, flexible interpreters realize that guidelines take away focus on the individual and their healthcare needs (Schuster 118). When considering that each patient is unique, it is impossible to follow clinical guidelines exactly.

Schuster’s book thoroughly and concisely explains the emergence and history of trans-medicine from the 20th to 21st century. It highlights specific examples of social and medical trends that have impacted trans-healthcare over the years. For example, the book delves into topics such as the medicalization of sexuality through the DSM and WPATH and explains how this has had an effect on treatment strategies. Schuster draws upon various sources to formulate his claims and arguments with one of the sources being scholarly/medical conferences. However, the most convincing sources are direct quotes and letters of correspondence from the 1960s. These primary sources allowed the author to form arguments with supporting examples. This is demonstrated on page 31 in which Schuster presents a letter written by a transgender patient, “This letter is no trick and all I write is the truth and not made up. I want you to understand that my need to have this operation is not in passing, but is something of the deepest importance to me and has been for a long time…” This quote directly supports the author’s argument of the trope of transgender “trickster” where transgender people deliberately misrepresented information about themselves in order to gain access to hormones and surgery (Schuster 31). The abundance of direct quotes and examples make the book an informative and credible read.

While the author’s support of “flexible interpreters” is clear, the author says little about potential solutions and courses of action for the future of trans-medicine. Instead of offering specific solutions to the problems in trans-medicine that have been normalized over the years, Schuster simply critiques and summarizes these issues. While proposing healthcare solutions may be beyond the author’s expertise, with the immense amount of research collected to write this book, I would have expected the author to describe future plans and implications of his findings. In the conclusion and in the section titled “Redefining the treatment of gender,” the author states that “changing the protocols and shifting attention away from trans people as a problem to fix enables some providers to redefine the ‘treatment’ of gender in a way that shifts the attention to broader social inequalities that trans people experience in everyday life, rather than perpetuating inequalities in healthcare encounters” (Schuster 164). While I agree with this claim, it is a simple blanket statement that does not enact any specific changes or solutions.

Overall, Trans Medicine, The Emergence and Practice of Treating Gender, by Dr. Stef M. Schuster was an enjoyable and informative read. The book answers the questions of how medical authority over gender has occurred as well as what practices have become normalized over the years in trans-medicine and their specific consequences. While the author takes a clear stance against the current and past states of trans-healthcare, he does not dive in depth into solutions. In summary, I would recommend this book to anyone who is interested in history and specifically in the history of medicine and sexuality. Furthermore, I feel it is imperative that those pursuing a career in healthcare read this book. As healthcare and social values are increasingly interconnected, it is critical that our future healthcare providers adapt with the times to help serve diverse communities.

Works Cited

Shuster, Stephen M. Trans Medicine: The Emergence and Practice of Treating Gender. New York University Press, 2021.

Onnagata: An Assessment of Female-likeness within Kabuki Theater

Posted on by Former Student

Kabuki theater is a traditional form of Japanese performance art. Known for its highly stylized performances, including songs, dance, mime, and lavish costumes, Kabuki theater has remained a major theatrical form in Japan for over four centuries. In 1629, the shogun, Tokugawa Iemitsu, banned women’s participation in Kabuki theater as he felt their sensuality was disgraceful. As a result, male actors filled these roles. Today, Kabuki theater is known for its use of male actors in female roles—referred to as “Onnagata.” The Onnagata have, WCfor far too long, been referred to as the “essence of femininity” (Mezur, 2005, p. 24). In her monograph, Beautiful Boys/Outlaw Bodies, Devising Kabuki Female-Likeness, Katherine Mezur counters this belief by asserting that The Onnagata’s stylized acts of female-likeness contradict the actual concept of a woman. Rather, modern perception of the Onnagata represents the male fantasy of what women should be, exemplifying traits such as submission, repression, and endurance (Mezur, 2005, p. 196). The Onnagata are a fictional depiction of female-likeness created during the Edo period (Mezur, 2005, p. 5). This monograph is not only a fascinating discussion of Kabuki theater but also a necessary analysis of gender and traditional Japanese theater.

In Beautiful Boys/Outlaw Bodies, Devising Kabuki Female-Likeness, Katherine Mezur uses two methods to evaluate the Onnagata and its relationship to gender. Her first method reviews Onnagata’s history and scholarly studies to garner concrete factual information. Her second method analyzes Onnagata aesthetics for artistic value. Dr. Mezur is a scholar and artist who specializes in gender studies and transnational dance and theater in western Asia. She received her Ph.D. in Theater and Dance with an emphasis on Asian performance from the University of Hawaii, Manoa. Mezur’s background in Nihon buyô dance—a classical Japanese dance style that originated from Kabuki theater—her firm understanding of Western feminism, as well as her firsthand experiences watching Kabuki theater prepared her well for synthesizing studies on the Onnagata that were written by both Japanese and non-Japanese scholars. Though Kabuki theater is structured within Japan’s binary and masculinist society, the Onnagata serve as a displacement of gender norms (Mezur, 2005, p. 153-154). In my opinion, Dr. Mezur’s methods are appropriate. By reviewing the history of Kabuki theater and using scholarly papers, such as William Malm’s “Studies in Kabuki: Its Acting, Music, and Historical Context” and Takashi Tsukada’s “Stratified and Composite Social Groups in Tokugawa Society,” Dr. Mezur gained valuable insight that provided a foundation to build her assessment on. In the social sciences, it is important to draw from the work of previous scholars and add to it. By reviewing writings from both Japanese and non-Japanese authors, Mezur is able to make credible conclusions through a diversity of voices. For the aesthetics method, it is appropriate because Dr. Mezur has established herself as a subject matter expert in this area and is applying this valuable skill to add a novel contribution to the study of Onnagata within Kabuki theater.

In her monograph–>REVISE THE BEGINNING TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT YOU ARE INTRODCUING CENTRAL RESEARCH QUESTIONS, Mezur addresses the following: In what way is the female gender portrayed by the Onnagata? How is the naturalized concept of desire and identity undermined by the Onnagata? In what ways does the Onnagata transcend gender as we traditionally see it? To answer these questions, Mezur pulls from theories presented by notable Western feminist scholars AND TRANSNATIONAL?. The summary of Mezur’s conclusions to these questions will be discussed below.

Judith Butler’s theory on performative gender was a point of inspiration for Mezur. This theory asserts that gender identity cannot exist outside of gendered acts. Drawing from this, Mezur maintains that when the Onnagata perform stylized gender acts (such as turned-in walks) or wear certain costumes (such as kimonos) and these acts are repeated in a formulaic pattern, the Onnagata ‘gender’ is created (Mezur, 2005, p. 36). Therefore, the Onnagata do not represent female likeness; they are a stylized fiction of women. The Onnagata are not an ideal representation of womanhood or female essence, but an entirely new gender role. Mezur takes the theory presented by Butler and applies it to Kabuki theater to effectively assess how the Onnagata present gender. By doing this, she addresses an interesting perspective that Judith Butler failed to touch upon.

Mezur also pulls from Sue-Ellen Case, a scholar on feminism and theater. To Case, gender is an effective mode of repression, and those in power have often encouraged the naturalization of gender roles, both on-stage and off (Mezur, 2005, p. 39). Mezur argues that the Onnagata destabilizes and questions the binary. She asserts that while the Onnagata are often designated as the female roles, they are really a challenge of this designation. The Onnagata fiction, controlled and shaped by the male body, represents an alternative gender possibility, disrupting the masculinist ideology prevailing in Japan (Mezur, 2005, p. 46). Though Kabuki theater is structured within Japan’s binary and masculinist society, it more accurately serves as a medium for a displacement of gender norms (Mezur, 2005, p. 153-154). Though Mezur agrees with the basic concept voiced by Case, she expands upon it in order to gain a better understanding of how and why the Onnagata may be challenging structural repression.

This deterioration of the gender binary then allows for a transcendence of gender. Onnagata gender—especially as it relates to the aesthetics of eroticism, sensuality, and attraction—is complex. The lack of gender role specialization permitted the consolidation of only a few Onnagata gender acts, and these acts transcended gender altogether (Mezur, 2005, p. 114). The limits of a single-gender identity do not apply. The Onnagata are delicate, graceful, and refined while also being chaotic and unbalanced (Mezur, 2005, p. 167). Their gender is ambiguous. This is what makes the Onnagata gender so powerful and tantalizing. Mezur further notes that while the Onnagata gender is independent of the binary—existing more in a liminal state—it requires the male body. Mezur emphasizes that this does not mean the Onnagata are males playing female roles; in fact, she would find this perspective to be problematic (Mezur, 2005, p. 141). Instead, she feels that the ‘male body beneath’ is a requisite for the Onnagata.

Spectators occasionally catch glimpses of the ‘male body beneath.’ For example, when the Onnagata bow, unpainted patches of skin near the wig line and nape of the neck are often visible. Clearly, even in a delicate moment, the male body is still ever-present. Mezur argues Onnagata gender acts must be created by the ‘male body beneath’ since the Onnagata “simultaneously performs both his male body beneath and his role,” (Mezur, 2005, p. 8). This stance, of course, prevents the possibility for women to act in this role, as an audience member could no longer imagine a male body beneath the kimono. Katherine Mezur’s assertion on this particular topic works against cultural feminism by reemphasizing the superiority of the male body. However, I do not find this perspective to be intentional, as Mezur has openly criticized other scholars for this position.

Having done a lot of recent reading on Kabuki theater, it disappointed me to see that Mezur overlooked important female Kabuki actresses. During the peak of Japonisme—a time following the reopening of foreign trade with Japan and when Japanese art influenced several Western European artists—Sada Yacco, a popular Japanese geisha, actress, and dancer, toured with the first Kabuki theater troupe ever seen in the West. Therefore, while women in Kabuki are certainly a minority, they do exist. This dismantles the notion of the requirement for a ‘male body beneath.’ As long as the body of those acting in the role of Onnagata continues to be concealed, it is unclear to me why the ‘male body beneath’ would add any importance. Asserting that actresses will never attain the power and vigor of the male actor only enables the de-powering of women—a major patriarchal goal.

Mezur concludes her monograph with an important message: gender is neither true nor false. Gender is not original nor obtained. To Mezur, the Onnagata are not ‘natural.’ They reject womanhood while ‘portraying’ femininity. They defy the patriarchal and naturalized binary. They transcend gender altogether. Katherine Mezur challenges contemporary theater makers and scholars to break the binary when enacting human roles, as this ambiguous transformation will create an entirely new theatrical dimension. Beautiful Boys/Outlaw Bodies, Devising Kabuki Female-Likeness is a valuable contribution to the study of Kabuki theater. I am confident that readers will have much to consider regarding Onnagata female-likeness, or rather, lack of it, after reflecting on Mezur’s analysis.

Bibliography  

Mezur, K. (2005). Beautiful Boys/Outlaw Bodies: Devising Kabuki Female-likeness. Palgrave Macmillan. 

Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus Review

Posted on by rubleifuss

26% of the United States population and 16% of the entire world’s population has some type of disability–born with or later acquired in life. That makes disability the largest minority. Yet, so often it is forgotten, especially when discussing topics of sexuality. Despite the lack of discourse around disability, there are some scholars that choose to examine disability through a disability studies lens or through crip theory. According to the University of Minnesota, crip theory is “a blurring or merging of queer theory and critical disability studies. Crip theory explores how the social pressures and norms around ability intersect with the social pressures and norms around gender/sexuality.” In the book “Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus” by Jane Gallop, crip theory is utilized to examine the intersections of disability, sexuality, and disease.  

Rather than making an argument in “Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus,” Gallop instead chooses to explore the intersections of disability, sexuality, and aging through anecdotal theory. By doing that she hopes to share her experience of sexuality, while aging with a disability. 

Jane Gallop was born in Duluth, Minnesota and went to Cornell University for her undergraduate and graduate degrees. Now she works at University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee as a professor in the English department–specializing in feminist, queer, and critical theory alongside academic writing. Gallop, a long-time feminist, is known for her writing on feminism, and is credited for writing ten books. Gallop developed her interest in disability from her own physical disability. She was born with her disability, flat feet and weak ligaments, but its symptoms did not start to manifest themselves until her late 40s. As her foot pain started to progress into chronic pain, she began to walk less–eventually using a wheelchair as her primary source of aid. Claiming her disability identity was not easy for Gallop, as she struggled with feeling invisible and unattractive. As time went on she began to explore the intersections of disability, sexuality, and aging, which is what prompted her to write “Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus.”

The book opens with Gallop saying that “This book is, first and foremost, rooted in the way crip theory resonates with my own experiences” (Gallop 2). That sets the tone for the rest of the book. Gallop then proceeds to explain where she got the ideas for the different themes of the book. When discussing aging she says, “The swath of experience that can be understood either as disability or as aging” (Gallop 5) suggesting that as we age we develop more disabilities. Then she believes that sexuality and disability are so intertwined that both topics are wrote about together, saying, “I immediately loved the attitudinal kinship of ‘crip’ with ‘queer’ and felt that was the direction I wanted my theorizing to head’” (Gallop 1). Lastly, she explains where she developed the idea for the phallus. Initially she was unsure if she should include phallus in the subtitle, as, “Someone who contributed to the feminist critique of the psychoanalytic concept of the phallus, I feel sheepish indeed to return here to the phallus as a term for thinking about sexuality” (Gallop 14). Yet, she does acknowledge the phallus is male centered. There are only two chapters within the book. Staying true to her anecdotal theory, she opens each chapter with a personal narrative. The first chapter’s narrative is about her discovering her disability and how she associates it with castration, but then she discovers how to navigate it and it becomes phallus for her. The second narrative is about her discovering her sexuality after her husband discovers and is treated for prostate cancer. There, castration is used to describe her husband’s illness, and phallus is used when they become sexual again. 

The main strength of “Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus” is the way Gallop’s personal narrative is used throughout the entire book. Each chapter opens with a story of Gallop either realizing her disability or learning to navigate it then for the rest of the chapter she uses the different themes of her story to discuss the intersections of disability, sexuality, and aging. The great amount of personal narrative used helps the reader sympathize with Gallop’s experiences, and better comprehend the investigation within the book.  

The overarching weakness of “Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus” is the lack of accessibility of the content to the general reader. Throughout the book Gallop references different theories–temporality theory, crip theory, queer theory, decline theory, and psychoanalytic theory, to name a few. Gallop mentions and refers to these theories without explaining them or defining them. The lack of detail makes much of the content difficult to understand. I have had to look up many of the terms myself, causing the reading to be extremely tedious. It makes it very obvious that the intended audience is not the everyday reader, but rather other scholars who are already familiar with the topics. 

In conclusion I thought “Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus” by Jane Gallop was extremely interesting. It gave me another perspective on the intersections of disability, sexuality, and aging that I did not have before. Yet, the inaccessible nature of this book was very prominent. I believe anyone would benefit from reading this book, as the topic is almost never talked about. However, the lack of details when stating different terms or theories used makes it quite challenging for someone not well-versed in these theories to truly understand the full message behind the book. Overall, “Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus” by Jane Gallop is an interesting, well-written and extremely informative book, especially for someone already familiar with the theories underpinning it.

Work cited

Gallop, Jane. Sexuality, Disability, and Aging: Queer Temporalities of the Phallus. Duke University Press, 2019. 

Testimonies from Transgender Youth: A Book Review of The Trans Generation

Posted on by Former Student

Every year, transgender youth in North America become increasingly prevelent, and yet Canadian and United States societies continue to fail them with a lack of safety, support and protection. Not SINGLE institution can be blamed for the oppression of trans kids; many systems in North America, often intentionally, work to promote and enforce harmful gender norms. Even more so now in The United States, anti-trans bills are being introduced across the nation. This transphobia perpetuated in North America has caused transgender youth to be disproportionally affected by mental illnesses, drug abuse and violence. While the situation seems hopeless, trans activists and scholars in the country have long been fighting for a better future. One, Ann Travers(they/them), aimed to do so with their book, The Trans Generation. 

In the scholarly monograph, published in 2018, Travers documents the negative effects of growing up transgender in North America through personal accounts of transgender youth and their parents. While the children interviewed are mostly coming from supportive families, governments, school administrations and other systems that uphold the gender binary often prevent transgender kids from having complete and fulfilling childhoods. Travers notes, “It would clearly be beneficial to all children if gender were not used to organize kids at school” (147). Travers argues that without that rigid gender binary imposing on the lives of children, young kids of all genders would be more freely able to express their identities. Travers quotes geographer  Kath Browne to echo their own statement, saying “Gendered spaces are disabling environments; it is the normative constructions of sex that are both built into, and interact in, everyday spaces that reproduce the ‘abnormal’” (79). Additionally, Travers makes a strong effort to decenter their whiteness and draw attention to the inequalities within the trans community due to differences in race, class, sexuality, etc. As Travers questions what can be done to improve the conditions for transgender children in North America, they discuss how any efforts made to protect these children would only affect the most privileged few. Travers quotes political scientist Kimberley Manning in saying, “Publicly tackling transphobia is only possible for those who can afford the costs of time, labor, finances, and risk” (128). This statement especially highlights the need to keep underprivileged children at the forefront of the fight to end trans oppression. Only some kids can afford to transition, switch schools, connect with other trans people, etc., though all of these opportunities are crucial to a child’s physical and mental wellbeing. Systems upholding racial and class opression would need to be dismantled before these opportunities could be made available to everyone, however Travers believes decentralizing the gender binary is the first step to reducing the precarity of trans kids.

Ann Travers devoted 5 years to learning from 36 transgender kids aged 4-20 about their experiences, working to find children of various identities, races, classes and family structures. Despite being a non-binary person themself, Travers commentS on how “transformative” this RESEARCH was for them, CLARIFYespecially in their lack of using the words ‘gender assigned at birth’; they state, “In writing this way, I have endeavored to model a much more open and less biologically deterministic way of enabling and respecting each person’s right to determine their own gender” (8). Their desire for writing this book was to improve the quality of life for both transgender children and cisgender children alike. 

The book itself covers topics ranging from parental support to bathroom usage to healthcare to sports teams, all exemplifying that most areas of life for transgender children are frequently interrupted because of their identities. In the case of education, trans children often must switch schools or leave school entirely because of the oppressive environment they are in. As Travers states, “Gender policing and harassment affect mental health, school attendance and achievement” (67). The harassment children face from peers, teachers and parents is not only detrimental for trans kids’ physical and mental health, but causes them to miss out on academic opportunities as well. A lack of access, safety or inclusion in public spaces such as restrooms also contributes to physical and mental health risks for kids of all ages. Travers explains how several young children in their study would wet themselves before using a public restroom. Since some schools prohibit transgender students from using their desired bathroom, the discomfort surrounding public gendered spaces is often heightened there. A GLSEN report included in the monograph documents that “60% of students had been restricted to using a bathroom or change room according to their legal sex” (50). Trans oppression from school administrations does not stop at bathroom usage, AS many schools prevent children from using their desired name or pronouns and in extreme cases HAVE suspended /CAN SUSPEND or expelled children who want to transition while attending school. Even for schools that do support transgender children, there are still barriers due to two-sex systems, especially in sports. Many subjects of Travers’s study talk of needing to leave a sport they are passionate about because they either cannot play on their preferred team or they face harassment from team members, coaches and parents, among other reasons. Travers states broadly, “For trans people of all ages, the sex segregation of sport is a key obstacle to participation” (95). The statements from the subjects and their parents as well speak volumes to the interruptions of “normal” childhood life. 

I found the testimonies from this book particularly enlightening as they spoke to the way young children experience gender. The usage of personal voice from these young kids highlights the self-awareness and understanding one gains from questioning and discovering their identity. With their clear and open definitions of the gender spectrum, they are truly paving the way for a more less sex-segregated future. One child, as Travers notes, “Believes that children and young people should be able to ‘try stuff out, find what fits for them’” (31). THIS CHILD ALSO articulates clearly the fluidity of gender and children’s right to self-determination. Travers describes another kid REVISE,  “Stef resists both a binary-based trans narrative of permanence and the kind of criticism of that narrative that legitimates trans-opressive refusals to acknowledge the ‘realness’ of trans kids’ gender identities” (30). These personal accounts educate readers on both the transphobia children endure as well as validate gender as a spectrum. All people, transgender or cisgender, young and old, can learn from this new generation of children. 

While this monograph succeeds in addressing the severity of trans kids’ mental health issues, some of the descriptions of self-harm and suicide are in need of content warnings. Of course, trans children are disproportionately at risk, but the explicit and somewhat graphic detail used is not necessary. The main instance of this is in a description of a young boy named Finn who took his life. While the language used came from his mother’s announcement in an online parent group and was only quoted by Travers, their discussion of the death was disturbing. Again, suicide is an uncomfortable and disturbing topic to begin with, but also a significant aspect of trans oppression. Travers explains that they see Finn as a “casualty” of this oppression due to his feelings of “hopelessness about the future” and the “limited agency available to him” (35). This description does help readers understand the state of despair of trans children, but I don’t believe this serious of an issue can be brought up so honestly in this way.

Overall, I thought this book was incredibly informative and well constructed considering the difficult subject matter. Not only did Travers broaden my understanding of trans life in North America, they ended the book in such a thoughtful conclusion of the nuances within the trans community given intersecting identities. I would be curious to know how the history of trans youth has expanded since 2018; much has changed in the past 4 years and I wonder what effect the pandemic especially has had on trans youth. Besides the outrageous amount of anti-trans bills proposed in 2021, I do wonder if conditions in schools have improved for trans children with the growing impact social media has on society. While the contents of the monograph are deeply saddening, this book is a must read for anyone wanting to learn from children affected by trans oppression. 

Travers, Ann. The Trans Generation. New York University Press. New York. 2018.

Is the Uterus Really to Blame: Review of Andrew Scull’s Hysteria: The Disturbing History

Posted on by Former Student

A recent Grey’s Anatomy episode opens with a commentary on the history of hysteria: “In the 1800s, one of the more common reasons women visited the doctor was hysteria—a now-defunct diagnosis. Hysteria was used to describe a wide array of symptoms: chest pain, anxiety, a swollen abdomen, mood swings. They tried a variety of treatments for hysteria ranging from rest to psychosomatic therapy. But true relief for these women didn’t exist until physicians tried using what they called ‘pelvic massage.’ The cure was called a hysterical paroxysm which today has come to be known as an orgasm” (“Let’s”). But what is hysteria? Why was it associated with women and cures associated with sex? What caused hysteria? Andrew Scull, a Distinguished Professor of Sociology at the University of California, San Diego, who has researched and written about the history of psychiatric illnesses for more than three decades, attempts to answer these questions. His scholarly monograph, Hysteria: The Disturbing History, highlights the shifting perspectives on the root cause of hysteria while simultaneously revealing shocking elements of history. 

While female hysteria is no longer recognized in The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorder, Fifth Edition, manifestations of hysteria are recognized in diagnoses of illnesses such as Schizophrenia, Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, Panic Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder, among other mental illnesses. That said, understanding the history of hysteria is pertinent when forming perceptions and educating oneself about mental health and mental illnesses. Scull recognizes this in his “biography of what contemporaries saw and interpreted as hysteria” as he discusses hysteria’s “fascinating and tortuous medical and cultural history” (6, 8). Scull’s work propelled him to receive the Roy Porter Medal for his lifetime contributions to the history of medicine and the Eric. T. Carlson Award for lifetime contributions to the history of psychiatry (“Andrew”). His research for Hysteria: The Disturbing History serves as an essential base for developing a comprehensive understanding of psychiatry today.

Continue reading “Is the Uterus Really to Blame: Review of Andrew Scull’s Hysteria: The Disturbing History” →

Big Hero 6 Spin Off Takes a Big Step 

Posted on by Former Student

I am a disney fan, as a lot of people I know are. I love the kid friendly content that also sometimes has adult humor mixed in; the cute sidekicks and comic relief; and so many heartwarming stories about love, friendship, and finding yourself. However, there is one thing Disney has always lacked. Take a look at some of their most beloved characters and couples, and see if anything stands out to you. 

Rapunzel and Flynn Rider from Disney’s Tangled
Ariel and Eric from Disney’s The Little Mermaid
Cinderella and Prince Charming from Disney’s Cinderella
Anna and Elsa from Disney’s Frozen
Belle from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast

All white, cis gender, unrealistically skinny, and straight. Granted, the company as a whole has come a very long way but they have long struggled with diversity and inclusion. The majority of notable and big role human characters, specifically princesses, are still predominantly white, all have the same (very skinny and oddly proportioned) body type, and there still has not been a big film that features a non straight romance. 

As I was pursuing Disney Plus, I came across a show that I had seen mentioned on tik tok, being either applauded or berated for a few scenes it included. The show is called “Baymax!”, created by writer Don Hall, and it features six short episodes around ten minutes each of the adorable healthcare robot Baymax, famously from the movie “Big Hero Six ”, helping different people in their respective predicaments. As I was watching the third episode, I was shocked. The third episode follows a 12 year old girl named Sofia through her day at school, when suddenly, she gets her first period. Baymax the robot comes into the bathroom to help her and explains that what she is experiencing is completely normal, and then he offers to go to the store to get her some menstrual products. First of all, it is completely unheard of for Disney to be openly talking about periods, which have historically been a taboo topic. For them to base a whole episode on the subject of menstruation shows big progress. When Baymax is talking to the frazzled Sofia, he says, “It is common for people to feel embarrassed, fearful, or uncomfortable, with the subject of menstruation. But it is just biology. It is nothing to be ashamed of.” This quote is so refreshing, because talking about periods has become a thing to avoid doing. It has often become something used to shame or embarrass women, instead of something that should be normalized and even empowering. Having even just a short spin off episode on this subject is a huge step in the right direction for Disney. 

 Even more huge progress is shown in Disney’s diversity and inclusion in the scene when Baymax is at the store in the pad and tampon aisle. Baymax is confused on what product to buy so he asks a woman near him for help. Once she offers her suggestion, lots of different people start chiming in letting the robot know which products they recommend. One of the people to chime in is a man wearing a shirt that is striped with the colors of the transgender flag, and he lets Baymax know that he prefers the pads with wings. 

Image from the scene

While the scene is only about 20 seconds long. It is the first time Disney has had a trans person in their content. The casualness of the scene shows the progress even more, because it simply shows a trans man doing a mundane task, the attention is never directly surrounding his trans-ness, and it shouldn’t be, because it should be accepted that men can have periods too. For those of you that don’t have Disney +, here is a link to the short scene:Baymax goes Shopping for Tampons. 

This episode, but especially this scene, caused immense outrage among some viewers, being labeled as “woke nonsense” by our very own Republican North Carolina Congressman Dan Bishop. Many parents also expressed their anger by tweeting about how this scene would make their kids uncomfortable and asking what the reason for this scene was:

The truth is, the audience for this show is kids. It is a PG rated show, meaning that kids probably as young as toddler age are watching this. Toddlers are not going to watch this scene and shout about how disturbed they are that a man is buying pads. Toddlers are going to watch this show and laugh at the adorably hilarious robot, and wish that he was there to help them with their medical needs. If a child is uncomfortable watching this scene, it is because they have been taught that it is wrong to speak about your body, and that it is right to judge what other people are doing with theirs. 

While Disney obviously still has a long way to go, this small mini series is a big step in the right direction in terms of recreating and redirecting the conversation around gender, sexuality, bodily autonomy, and inclusion, especially for young kids. 

(This is a post text side note: I highly recommend watching the rest of the series of “Baymax!”. It is adorable and heart warming and also includes an episode (episode 4) featuring an absolutely precious gay love story that made me tear up with happiness because it is just so adorable. )

Sex Education’s New Show in Season 3

Posted on by Former Student
Season 3 | Sex Education Wiki | Fandom
Sex Education’s Season 3 Promotional Poster

I remember waiting for the third season of Sex Education to come out – I was reposting the promotional posters on my story on Instagram and sending it to my friends. When Sex Education finally came out, I was surprised at how different this season was from its previous seasons. Sex Education started as a show navigating the life of Otis, whose mother is a sex therapist. Because of this, Otis has learned the techniques of how to talk to someone. He then tries this at school with an unexpected friend at the time called Maeve. As a result, they both start making this a regular thing after success. Moving on from this, in season 3, the sex therapist students are not quite as much in this picture but are rather dealing with Moordale’s new principal Headmistress Hope who moves Moordale in a backward way, removing self-expression and promoting heterosexuality, while shaming anything different. Cal and Headmistress Hope are two of the new characters this season, and they are complete opposites, to say the least. Hope’s backward idea of how to run a school is a great reason to show why such classes like GSS exist.

One episode in particular that struck me was a scene from this seasons Ep. 4:

(Video won’t seem to load so here’s the link: https://youtu.be/VGID85R1LTA)

Firstly, this scene I want to talk about in particular. Prior to this scene, Headmistress Hope tells Viv, her student assistant, to tell the people of Moordale to separate themselves into two lines based on their gender. However, because Cal is non-binary, they don’t separate themselves into a line and have an argument with Hope. Cal then goes on to say “So we go to the vagina or penis line? Is that what you’re saying?” This itself shows how bent Hope’s thinking is: there are only two genders and that it depends on your genitalia. For centuries, we have always decided to look at someone’s genitalia and say “They are a boy” or “they are a girl,” and it’s time we step away from this disgusting perspective. 

Sex Education Season 3, Ep. 4. Screenshot from video stated

Focusing more on this scene, the boys get a talk about homophobia and stating that homosexuals have a higher chance of getting an STD. Meanwhile, the girls are getting a talk about how sex is scary and can ruin your life. Maeve, one of the earliest main characters, however, tells the group speaker of the girls group that sex isn’t and shouldn’t be scary. Maeve gives a progressive speech suggesting that students should instead see that sex gives them insight into their body, like what they like, and that girls shouldn’t be the only one getting the talk of “sex is a mistake because it leads to unwanted pregnancy.” This ties into the idea of Foucault where the idea of sex shouldn’t be talked about and that people should be shamed for having these ideas and thoughts. And, further in this episode, the students of Moordale are scared because they’ve been involved in sexual activities prior to this meeting and that their lives could be in danger just because of what they’ve been told. Society makes sex seem as a bad thing and that only bad things will happen if you engage in the act of sex, but nothing will happen if you go about it in a safe direction.

Sex Education" Episode #3.6 (TV Episode 2021) - IMDb
Sex Education Season 3, Ep. 6

Another interesting part of season 3 lies within episode 6. Hope decides to publicly shame students who caused a bad reputation for Moordale. While she shames 3 students, Lily, a student who writes sexual stories about aliens and such things, and Cal in particular are shamed for being themselves. To explain, Cal is told that they are a messy troublemaker when all they have done to “disrespect” Moordale is ask for equity. Cal is constantly reminded by Hope to fit in a certain category by her forcefully putting labels on their gender when they are non-binary, but never lashes out against Hope. For Lily, she is told that she has brought shame to her peers with “dirty and disgusting words,” which comes from Lily’s sexual fantasy stories. Again, especially for teenagers in high school going through puberty, students should not be shamed for having sexual desires. Additionally, the idea of fantasies and fetishes shouldn’t be shamed either. Lily is a great character at showcasing these fantasies and, earlier in the season, Lily used to wear makeup and style her hair to indicate this love for her fantasies. 

Season 3 was something entirely different, but I did enjoy it. It helps show how different people are from one another, and that we shouldn’t be putting others down for having differences or looking different. We should be encouraging these differences and seeing how much more a society could be if individuality was promoted. Sex Education does a great job in this season to showcase this.