Queer musings

I figured that instead of ranting to my friends about this stuff I could write it down. So here's some feminist analysis on a varity of pop culture! Including but not limited to: -Harry Potter -His Dark Materials  -A Song of Ice and Fire

[lo-lynx]

Some news...

Hi dear followers of this tumblr! I’ve decided to start a website where I will share my essays from now on! https://lothelynx.wordpress.com/ So feel free to check that out! 

I also just published a new essay on there, about the “grotesquerie” that Tyrion and Penny ends up in during their enslavement in ADWD. https://lothelynx.wordpress.com/2020/08/29/the-grotesqueries-of-planatos/

[lo-lynx]

Colonialism in His Dark Materials

CW: racism, sexism, sexual violence

Spoiler warning: all the books in the His Dark Materials series, as well as La Belle Sauvage, The Secret Commonwealth, and Once upon a Time in the North

Intro

His Dark Materials takes place in a world like our own, but not quite like our own, which is evident in everything from daemons to their use of anbaric light instead of electric light. It’s also evident in the way national borders have evolved in their world, as is clear if one looks at the map of Lyra’s world:

 (Source: His Dark Materials Wiki)

It should be noted that while this map is to my understanding an official in-world map, it doesn’t seem to include every country, for instance there is no mention of Norroway which is mentioned in Northern Lights (Pullman 2011a, 170). I spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out how the North in this world functions and compares to our world in this essay, and the parallels one can see to the history of our North. Furthermore, a while back the excellent podcast Girls Gone Canon pointed out that in The Subtle Knife Lee Scoresby meets someone who he describes as a Yoruba man (2020a). This is interesting, since in our world, the Yoruba people are split across several different nations (mainly Nigeria, Benin, Togo, and Ghana) as a result of colonial borders. As Girls Gone Canon said, this makes one curious about the colonial history of Lyra’s world, was there a British (and French, Spanish, Dutch etc) empire in the same way as in our world? It’s clear that racism and xenophobia exists in Lyra’s world, for instance there are several instances of disparaging remarks about the Gyptians, Turks, and the Tartars. The Tartars are described as dangerous and brutal throughout Northern Lights, for instance in regard to their practice of scalping and trepanning enemies (Pullman 2020a, 26). We later of course find out that they don’t trepan their enemies, but that it’s a ritual reserved for those the Tartars esteem (ibid, 228). We also hear of Turk children kidnapping children (ibid, 105), and as I will expand upon further later, the gyptians are often looked down upon by landlopers (non-Gyptians). For instance there’s this quote from La Belle Sauvage, when Malcom tries to pass on Fader Coram’s warning about a flood coming to his teachers who think: “It was nonsense- it was superstition- the gyptians knew nothing, or they were up to something, or they were just not to be trusted.” (Pullman 2018, 277) But it’s also clear that while there is racism in Lyra’s world just as in our own, the history of Lyra’s world is different than ours, as can be seen in how the national borders have been constructed. So, one might assume that the systems of colonialism, and how coloniality still effects Lyra’s world is different as well. In this essay I will argue that the Magisterium plays a similar, if also different, role to the colonial powers of our world. I will specifically focus on three aspects of this; the gyptian’s situation and the Magisterium’s treatment of them, the Magisterium’s attempted control/colonialization of The North, and the Magisterium’s control/colonialization of Asia Minor.

So, what do I mean by saying colonialization and coloniality? Well, as feminist post-colonialism researcher Chandra Talpade Mohanty writes:

[T]he term ‘colonialization’ has come to denote a variety of phenomena in recent feminist and left writings in general. From its analytic value as a category of exploitative economic exchange in both traditional and contemporary Marxism (cf. particularly such contemporary scholars as Baran, Amin and Gunder-Frank) to its use by feminists of colour in the US, to describe the appropriation of their experiences and struggles by hegemonic white women’s movements, the term ‘colonization’ has been used to characterize everything from the most evident economic and political hierarchies to the production of a particular cultural discourse about what is called the ‘Third World’. However sophisticated or problematical its use as an explanatory construct, colonialization invariably implies a relation of structural domination, and a discursive or political suppression of the heterogeneity of the subject(s) in question. (1988, 61)

As she writes, the effects of colonialism can be seen on several different levels in society. When analysing coloniality in His Dark Materials, I’m attempting to move between a discursive level and material level. That is to say, I consider both the colonial/white supremacy discourse, and its material consequences (and the way the material aspects contributes to the discourse). Another aspect that I think is relevant to consider is how colonialism effects the way we move through different spaces, and indeed through the world at large. Feminist and critical race theorist Sara Ahmed describes it like this:

Colonialism makes the world ‘white’, which is of course a world ‘ready’ for certain kinds of bodies, as a world that puts certain objects within their reach. (…) I want to consider racism as an ongoing and unfinished history, which orientates bodies in specific directories, affecting how they ‘take up’ space. Such forms of orientation are crucial to how bodies inhabit space, and to the racialization of bodily as well as social space. (2006, 111)

A crucial point here is how racism and colonialism is an ongoing and unfinished history, and that it continually effects people, bodies, and spaces. Ahmed further describes that bodies who do not fit into this white world are deemed strangers and stopped in different ways. These bodies cannot move through the white world smoothly. As an example, she described how she, even though she has a British passport, are stopped at airports because her last name sounds Muslim. This makes her stand out in a white place, and as such she is stopped and questioned about her being in this space.  This way of describing racial/ethnic others as, well, others, as strange strangers, is central in how a nation and national subjects are created (Ahmed 2004). We gain a sense of who we are, who our group is, and who “belongs” in our community and nation by making clear who doesn’t belong. As Ahmed writes about white supremacy groups: “Together we hate and this hate is what makes us together.” (2004, 26) Ahmed further writes about how such instances of racist hatred is both created by histories of racism, and creates the groundwork for future similar situations:

[A] white racist subject who encounters a racial other may experience an intensity of emotions (fear, hate, disgust, pain). That intensification involves moving away from the body of the other, or moving towards the body of the other in an act of violence, and then moving away. The ‘moment of contact’ is shaped by histories of contact, which allows the proximity of a racial other to be perceived as threatening, at the same time as they create new impressions. (Ahmed 2004, 31)

That is to say, racist encounters on the microlevel (between people) are influenced by historical structural racism and ensures that such structural racism can continue. Having established this background, I now want to move on to a group in His Dark Materials who are continually seen as strangers by the rest of society and mistreated for it; the gyptians.

 The Gyptians

We first meet the gyptians in Northern Lights when Lyra mentions their children being part of the war the children of Oxford wage against each-other: “The other regular enemy was seasonal. The gyptian families, who lived on canal-boats, came and went with the spring and autumn fairs, and were always good for a fight.” (Pullman 2011a, 33) Later we are introduced to Ma Costa specifically in this manner:

It was about the time of the Horse Fair, and the canal basin was crowded with narrow boats and butty boats, with traders and  travellers, and the wharves along the waterfront of Jericho were bright with gleaming harness and loud with the clop of hooves and the clamour of bargaining. (…)

‘Well what have you done with him, you half-arsed pillock?” It was a mighty voice, a woman’s voice, but a woman with lungs of brass and leather. Lyra looked around for her at once, because this was Ma Costa, who had clouted Lyra dizzy on two occasions but given her hot gingerbread on three, and whose family was noted for the grandeur and sumptuousness of their boat. They were princes among gyptians, and Lyra admired Ma Costa greatly (…) Lyra was frightened. No one worried about a child gone missing for a few hours, and certainly not a gyptian: in the tight-knit gyptian boat-world, all children were precious and extravagantly loved, and a mother knew that if a child was out of her sight, it wouldn’t be far from someone else’s who would protect it instinctively. But here was Ma Costa, queen among the gyptians, in terror for a missing child. (ibid, 55)

I want to highlight a few things here, firstly the way the gyptians’ tradition of moving around through the year (on their boats) and visiting during fairs (specifically horse fairs), secondly that the Costas are described as princes among gyptians, and thirdly that we are introduced to them with a child going missing. As I will argue here, the gyptians are quite clearly inspired by our world’s Roma people, and there exist a lot of racist stereotypes about Roma stealing children. Here instead, the gyptians’ children are the ones getting stolen. I will lay out further parallels, but before doing that, I want to note an interesting aspect of their name. In the English versions of His Dark Materials, the name for the gyptians seems to be a reference to the word g*psy (considered a slur by some Roma people, which is why have chosen to not use it). G*psy in itself comes from the belief that Roma people originally came from Egypt (Amnesty 2020). In the Swedish translation of Northern Lights, which is the one I read as a child, gyptians are translated to “zyjenare”. This is very similar to a Swedish word for Roma which is most definitely a slur, the His Dark Materials word has only swapped the i to a y and the g to a j. So, I’ve always thought it was very obvious that the gyptians were essentially Roma. I recently found out that in the Swedish version of La Belle Sauvage this translation has changed, and gyptian is translated to “gyptier” instead (which is a sort of Swedish-ification of the English word, it can be compared to the word for Egyptian which is “egyptier”). I do not know the reason for this but would guess that it’s because the original translation is uncomfortably close to a racial slur (they’re pronounced the same).

Moving on from name similarities, I want to look at how the gyptians’ lifestyle is described similarly to that of Roma people, and then look at the similar racism facing the two groups. Firstly, it bears mentioning that Roma people aren’t an ethnic homogenous people. Roma is usually used as a broad term to describe a variety of ethnic groups, including Romani, Sinti, and other Travellers. But as Colin Robert Clark points out in his PhD thesis ‘Invisible Lives’: The Gypsies and Travellers of Britain: “The reality is that for the last century and longer all Travellers, whatever their ethnic status, have been labelled as ‘criminals’, ‘deviants, ‘vagabonds’ and asocial.” (2001, 46). In the mind of the populace, all these groups are usually seen as the same. Therefore, I will refer to them as a group as Roma here, even if I’m aware that there are differences within that broad category. As Clark points out, among Roma in the UK there are a lot of similar traditions (2001, 125). Traditionally many will travel throughout the year, and do different seasonal work, while wintering in one place. Many meet up or gather at different fairs, including horse fairs. This, I think is similar to the gyptians in His Dark Materials. As pointed out in the quote I quoted above in Northern Lights, the gyptians tend to travel throughout the year, and turn up in Oxford for horse fairs. Another clear similarity is of course that Roma traditionally live and travel in caravans, while the gyptians of His Dark Materials travel on canal boats. As Clark points out, this is often central both in Roma’s cultural identity, and in the governmental oppression facing them:

[W]e need to recognise the fact that many Gypsies and Travellers in Western European countries, whether travelling or settled, are nomads. This is a 'state of mind' and their economic status and social identity are often defined and mapped-out by their nomadic life-style and culture, even when, out of choice or through policies of social inclusion and normalisation, they are permanently or temporarily sedentarised. For this reason, it is perhaps through their predisposition towards nomadism, rather than (or as well as) their ethnic identity, that they are perceived as a threat by states and governments. (2001, 55)

This seems similar to the nomadic gyptian lifestyle, which is occasionally threatened by authorities. Another clear similarity between Roma people and the gyptians seems to be the racist stereotypes surrounding them. A main one is of course the way Roma are seen as criminal and untrustworthy in different ways (Clark 2001, 72). As mentioned above, this stereotype seems to exist regarding the gytians as well, as Malcom recounts in La Belle Sauvage (Pullman 2018, 277). Another similar instance is that Malcom’s friend Erik claims that he’s been told by his father that gyptians always have a hidden agenda. Related to this, perhaps, is the way Roma are often connected to occultism, including fortune telling (Clark 2001, 70). This seems the case with the gyptians as well, which becomes especially clear in La Belle Sauvage and The Secret Commonwealth. In La Belle Sauvage, as mentioned, Fader Coram warns Malcom about the upcoming flood (which other characters dismisses as superstition), and in The Secret Commonwealth Lyra learns about different creatures from the secret commonwealth from Master Brabant (Pullman 2019, 224). Another stereotype about Roma people that seems to have been influenced Pullman when writing the gyptians is what Clark calls “internal nobility” (2001, 69). Clark quotes the following from Liegeois (1986: 58-63):

The 'King of the Gypsies' is a figment of the imagination of the gadze (non-Gypsies), and neither Roma as a whole nor any of the subgroups have a formal leader. ... These terms ... do not reflect a social hierarchy, but were an instance of superficial adaptation to local conditions and customs. (Liegois 1986, in Clark 2001, 69)

Clark goes on discuss how this might have been a way to interact with local nobility during historical times, and gain some sort of legitimacy in the eyes of the rest of society. He specifically brings up an example which I think is very relevant for His Dark Material, which is how an ‘Egyptian’ was granted certain powers by James V of Scotland:

which granted considerable privileges to John Faw, 'lord and erie of Litill Egipt' ... enjoining all those in authority in the kingdom to assist John Faw in executing justice upon his company, 'conforme to the lawis of Egipt' and in punishing all those who rebelled against him. (Fraser 1995, 118, in Clark 2001, 70).

Now, this seems like it quite obviously could be the inspiration for the gyptian character John Faa, lord of the western gyptians. It seems as if in the world of His Dark Materials the gyptians do have some sort of internal nobility, or at least ruling structure. It also seems relevant to point out how Lyra thinks that the Costa family are princes among the gyptians. Now, one stereotype that it seems less certain if it applies to the gyptians as well, is the stereotype that Roma are black and/or tawny (Clark 2001, 67). We very rarely get descriptions of the gyptians appearance in the books, what we do get is that Fader Coram is brown-skinned (Pullman 2018, 221), and that Lyra’s blond hair stands out (Pullman 2011a, 133). In either case, it doesn’t seem that such a stereotype exists, that judges the gyptians negatively based on their looks. Another stereotype that doesn’t exist in His Dark Materials is that of the Roma stealing children. Instead, as mentioned above, the gyptians children are the ones being stolen. That seems like it might be a deliberate contrast.

Now, let’s look at some similarities between how Roma people have been oppressed by governments, and how the gyptians are treated by the Magisterium. I first want to turn to a quote from an Amnesty report about the situation for Roma in Europe:

The Roma are one of Europe’s oldest and largest ethnic minorities, and also one of the most disadvantaged. Across the continent Romani people are routinely denied their rights to housing, health care, education and work, and many are subjected to forced eviction, racist assault and police ill-treatment. (…) Millions of Roma live in isolated slums, often without access to electricity or running water, putting them at risk of illness. But many cannot obtain the health care they need. Receiving inferior education in segregated schools, they are severely disadvantaged in the labour market. Unable to find jobs, they cannot afford better housing, buy medication, or pay the costs of their children’s schooling. And so the cycle continues. All this is not simply the inevitable consequence of poverty. It is the result of widespread, often systemic, human rights violations stemming from centuries of prejudice and discrimination that have kept the great majority of Roma on the margins of European society. (Amnesty 2020, 3)

Now, one aspect that I think is relevant to highlight here when considering similarities to the gyptians of His Dark Materials is that this situation is “not simply the inevitable consequence of poverty.” It is a result of systemic governmental discrimination and oppression. One part of this that I want to consider is housing. For instance, in the UK there have been many instances of the government prohibiting caravans being parked on lots of land for a variety of reasons (Clark 2001, 217). One example of this was The  Caravan Sites (Control of Development) Act of 1960, which made it difficult for Roma to buy plots of land to winter on, since said act forbade land being used as a caravan site unless the owner of the land had a site licence. And to get a site licence one had to jump through several bureaucratical hoops that had the effect of it being hard for Roma to get such a license, and also made private landowners unwilling to let people stop on their lands, even if they had let them do that previously. In 1968 the Caravan Sites Act was enacted, which was supposed to provide more official sites for caravans where Roma and Travellers could stop, instead of having to stay on private land. This did not work very well in practice since very few such sites were actually created, leading to Roma and Travellers actually having fewer options on where to stop. This all sounds very similar to what the gyptians of His Dark Materials have had to face, as John Faa outlines when describing what Lord Asriel has done for the gyptians: “It were Lord Asriel who allowed gyptian boats free passage on the canals through his property. It were Lord Asriel who defeated the Watercourse Bill in Parliament, to our great and lasting benefit.” (Pullman 2020a, 136) We’re not told exactly what this Watercourse Bill entiled, but from context it sounds like it would limit the gyptian’s ability to travel and live on the water. That paired with them being grateful that Asriel let them pass through his property makes it sound like there might have been legal battles surrounding the gyptians travelling, similar to that of the Roma in our world. There is one big difference though, the gyptians have the Fens. The Fens seems to function as similar to a winter site might for Roma in our world, but for the whole gyptian community, where they also have some sort of autonomy. It is pointed out on several occasions that the Magisterium does not have jurisdiction there, for instance:

The gyptians ruled the Fens. No one dared enter, and while the gyptians kept the peace and traded fairly, the landlopers turned a blind eye to the incessant smuggling and occasional feuds. If a gyptian body floated ashore down the coast, or got snagged in a fish-net, well- it was only a gyptian. (Pullman 2011a, 113)

It also becomes clear here that the police in His Dark Materials do not care about gyptians, which is similarly often the case regarding Roma in our world (Amnesty 2020, 5). In His Dark Materials this also becomes evident when the police at first doesn’t care about the poor and/or gyptian children going missing; “Children from the slums were easy enough to entice away, but eventually people noticed, and the police were stirred into reluctant action.” (Pullman 2011a, 45). That brings me to the last form of government oppression that I want to mention, and that is the taking of children and control over reproduction. One instance of this in our world was the Norweigan Omstreifermisjonen, which roughly translates to “The Travellers mission”, a Christian organisation which with the backing of the Norweigan state practiced forced assimilation of Travellers during the 20th century Selling 2013, 26). This was practiced by forcibly putting children in boarding school like facilities and the adults in labour camps. Some argued for similar practices in Sweden at the turn of the century:

Vicar Hedvall in Malung shared the view that ‘[Swedish slur for Roma] and [Swedish slur for Travellers]’ generally raised their children to begging, promiscuity and crookedness. He argued for ‘reformatory schools’ for the children and labour camps for the adults, as well as changing the law so that the child welfare committee would ‘have the power to, without too extensive procedures, take the children into their care.’” (Selling 2013, 49). [my translation from Swedish]

We can see here that Roma and Travellers weren’t seen as suitable parents for children, who would in some instances be taken from them. Slightly later in history many Roma people would be forcibly sterilised for similar reasons (Selling 2013, 59). I’ve written about the Swedish history surrounding that in this and this essay, but it bears mentioning here too. As is of course the horrific genocide of Roma by the Nazis where approximately between 250 000 and 500 000 Roma was killed (Amnesty 2020). As I’ve argued previously, this history of eugenics feels similar to how gyptian children in His Dark Materials are kidnapped to clean them of Dust:

Another thing I want to highlight is the comparison between the severing of children and dæmons, and sterilisation. In the books, children’s bond to their dæmons (their soul) are severed by the GOB [General Oblation Board] in order to prevent “Dust” settling on the children (Pullman 2007, 275). Dust is considered dangerous and sinful, something that according to the church started infecting humans after their fall from the garden of Eden. Sterilisation in our world, on the other hand, took place in order to make the population “cleaner” and of “better” stock. Groups who were in different ways considered degenerate were targeted, including women who were perceived as promiscuous/sexual transgressors. In Lyra’s world a spiritual connection is severed by the Church in order to curb sinfulness. In our world a biological connection is severed by “scientists” (in collaboration with the Church at times) to control sexuality and reproduction. There is a definite similarity here. (Lo-Lynx 2019)

Among the people who were specifically targeted historically in our world were Roma, because they were considered degenerate (and thus shouldn’t be allowed to reproduce) and/or unfit as parents (and thus shouldn’t be allowed to raise children). The control of the lower classes and gyptians’ sexuality through the control of Dust feels very similar. It should of course be noted that this kind of practice did not just happen in the North in our world, sterilisations and other eugenic measures has taken place in many places. For instance, in countries that were colonised by European countries this was often the case, and here as well the church were often involved (Stoler 1997). Sexual control was in fact often central in creating and upholding racial boundaries in colonies.

We can thusly see that the way the gyptians are treated in His Dark Mateials is similar to the treatment of Roma in our world. I would furthermore argue that their status as “strangers” in the country where they live functions as a way to uphold racial bounderies and hierarchies, similar to how Ahmed writes (2004). By being thought of as suspicious and “up to something” they are continually othered and seen as lesser than society at large. Their treatment by the Magisterium is also similar to how Roma have been treated in many places in Europe, and a clear example of how nation of white hegemony/a colonial state might treat racial others inside of its borders.

 The Magisterium’s controlling/colonizing of the North

I now want to turn to how the Magisterium in the books attempts to take control of the North, and how it can be seen as a colonial state’s attempt to do so. To do that I want to first give a brief historical background of a similar process of colonization in the North, but the North of our world, that is the Swedish colonization of Sápmi. Sápmi is the land inhabited by the Sami people, and it includes land in contemporary Sweden, Norway, Finland, and Russia. The colonization of Sápmi was highly tied up in the Christening of the Sami, who traditionally practiced their own religion. The website samer.se which is run by Sametinget, the governmental body of Swedish Sami, puts it like this:

In order to force the Sami to abandon their religion and instead attend church services and church education, the Church used different forms of punishment: fines, prison, or death penalties. The holy sites were defiled and drums [used in religious rituals] were burned.

During centuries the Sami religion had been able to live side by side with Christianity. But from the 17th century onward, the attempts to Christen the Sami went hand in hand with the Crown’s attempt to conquer the land in the north. When religion became a means of power, the Sami were made to suffer many forms of abuse, just as has been the case with other indigenous people throughout the world. (samer.se n.d. a) [my translation from Swedish]

One motivation for the Swedish Crown to claim Sápmi was access to natural resources there, such as silver and later iron (samer.se n.d. b). During the industrialisation of Sweden, even more parts of Sápmi became settled in order to open more mines, mainly iron mines. As I’ve written about in this essay, soon after this, new laws surrounding schooling of Sami children were put into place. This new law stated that teachers would wander around the mountainous regions in the summer. There, the youngest schoolchildren would be taught in the family’s cot for a few weeks each year during the first three school years. The rest of the school time consisted of winter courses in regular schools for three months a year for three years. The teaching would only cover a few subjects and it had to be at such a low level that the children were not “civilized”. Children of nomadic Sami were not allowed to attend public primary schools. It was often in collaboration with schools for Sami children where much eugenic “scientific research” later took place. As I wrote in my earlier essay:

In 1922 The State’s Race Biological institute (Statens rasbiologiska institut) was created in Uppsala in Sweden, by the “scientist” Herman Lundborg (Hagerman 2016, 961). He wished to research the Swedish race, and the mixing of races in Sweden. This was done in several ways, both by looking at records of marriages and birth (often supplied by church officials who had access to so called “church books” that recorded this), and physical examinations of people. He, and other “scientists”, travelled around Sweden to examine the Sami people and other groups that were considered inferior (such as Finns, Roma people, Jews, disabled people etc). The physical examination of Sami people often happened in collaboration with local churches or schools (Hagerman 2016, 984). Another part of the eugenics movement in Sweden that is worth mentioning here is the forced sterilisations that took place during this time. (Lo-lynx 2019)

Now, the reason I think it is relevant to consider the colonialization of Sápmi, as well as the eugenic practices toward marginalised groups, is the parallel it makes to what the Magisterium is up to in His Dark Materials. Consider for instance this quote from Martin Lanselius in Northern Lights:

‘Well, in this very town there is a branch of an organization called the Northern Progress Exploration Company, which pretends to be searching for minerals, but which is really controlled by something called the General Oblation Board of London. This organization, I happen to know, imports children. This is not generally known in the town; the Norroway government is not officially aware of it.’ (Pullman 2011a, 170)

There are some definite parallels here to the colonising of Sápmi, and colonising of other places too. A government/governmental agency comes looking for natural resources (or at least claiming to) and ends up doing medical experiments and take eugenic measures. I furthermore find it interesting that Lanselius in the above quote mentions that the Norroway government is not officially aware of what the GOB is doing, that indicates that the GOB (and the Magisterium as a whole?) is an outside influence taking control in this area of the North. I will return to the Magisterium’s taking control in other contexts later but wanted to note this here. We also learn that Marisa Coulter attempted to set up a similar facility as the one in Bolvangar on Svalbard, because there are less laws to consider there, as the bear Søren Eisarson relays:

‘There are human laws that prevent certain things that she was planning to do, but human laws don’t apply on Svalbard. She wanted to set up another station here like Bolvangar, only worse, and Iofur was going to allow her to do it, against all the custom of the bears; because humans have visited, or been imprisoned, but never lived and worked here. Little by little she was going to increase her power over Iofur Raknison, and his over us, until we were her creatures running back and forth at her bidding, and our only duty to guard the abomination she was going to create…’ (Pullman 2011a, 356)

This leads me to the next aspect I wanted to consider; Svalbard and the pansarbjørne.

In Northern Lights we first learn of a Svalbard ruled by the pansarbjørne Iofur Rakinson, who attempts to gain power by letting the Magisterium into Svalbard and conforming to human culture. This is very much a contrast to Iorek, the rightful king, who wants a return to true beardom. Now, of course, the pansarbjørne are bears, but they are talking bears with a culture of their own, and I would argue that they are often portrayed as similar to indigenous people. This is also something Girls Gone Canon (2002b) discusses in their episode on the novella Once Upon a Time in the North. One point that they make in that episode is that the whole of the Once Upon a Time in the North is very much written like a Western, even if it takes place in the cold north. Some aspects of this that they mention is that the protagonist, Lee, who is sort of the cowboy of the story, comes into this new town, and by the end has a shootout. There’s also clearly a resource war going on, and the bears play similar roles to that of Native Americans in traditional Westerns. In the episode, Girls Gone Canon also makes note of how the bears are described as “noble savages” by the character Oskar Sigurdsson, clearly a racist trope that exist in our world as well. Sigurdsson describes the bears like this:

‘Worthless vagrants. Bears these days are sadly fallen from what they were. Once they had a great culture, you know- brutal, of course, but noble in its own way. One admires the true savage, uncorrupted by softness and ease.’ (Pullman 2017, 12)

It is in the story unclear if the bears are confined to Svalbard before or after the events of this story. As Girls Gone Canon puts it, did the bears have a great kingdom that included Novy Odense and were later displaced by humans, or did they come from Svalbard but weren’t afforded rights in other places? In either case, it is clear that there are a lot of racial tension in the story, and that is exploited by the character Poliakov who tries to gain political power. He is apparently in league with the company Larsen Maganese who are supposedly looking for oil. This again reminds one of Westerns. I would argue that the “wild” North is in many ways similar to the “wild West”, since, as I outlined before, it has been seen as an unexplored land filled of resources to be claimed (samer.se n.d. b). The role the hunt for resources plays in the story is extremely relevant to the story, and to our own times. Girls Gone Canon put it like this:

A lot of this reminds me of private military companies in general, Iraq and Somali are decent examples of this, but maybe on a smaller scale, depending on some of our before speculation about the series and what exactly Poliakov is looking for, besides this local government power(…) the talk of oil is being loudly said, but Lee notices that there is no big trade happening. So, it kind of seems to be a cover for something, and, maybe he was mining for a resource, but it wasn’t just oil? I don’t know, but I know other governments who have hired armies as contractors who wouldn’t have to face local laws wherever they deployed those armies, you know? As a grey area. And because of that they committed atrocities. While they were saying they were doing it to stop terror instead. But they were really just like, you know, putting colonialism down real hard on the table and exploiting the place. (Girls Gone Canon 2020, 43:08 mins)

I’ll return to this notion of governments using terror as an excuse to go after resources later in this essay, but it is definitely clear that there’s colonial undertones in this claiming of resources and fearmongering about other races.

Before moving on from the Magisterium’s colonialism in the North, I want to discuss one specific character, namely Marisa Coulter. Coulter’s position in the world of His Dark Materials is interesting in many ways. As a woman in a patriarchal world, she has had to find alternative ways to power, because as Lord Asriel says:

‘You see, your mother’s always been ambitious for power. At first she tried to get it in the normal way, through marriage, but that didn’t work, as I think you’ve heard. So she had to turn to the Church. Naturally she couldn’t take the route a man could have taken- priesthood and so on- it had to be unorthodox; she had to set up her own order, her own channels of influence, and work through that. It was a good move to specialize in Dust. Everyone was frightened of it; no one knew what do to; the Magisterium was so relieved that they backed her with money and resources of all kinds.’ (Pullman 2011a, 372)

What this passage essentially says is that when Coulter couldn’t get power the way a man would, she decided to get it by making use of the very same oppressive system that tried to stop her. In many ways it reminds me of the way white European women would attempt to get power in colonies, where they (at least sometimes) could get more freedom/power. Feminist researcher Sara Mills for instance notes that British women in colonial India could find more freedom from restrictive social conventions than they did in their homeland (2003). One example of this that Mills mentions is how British women might find freedom in travelling and “exploring” colonies, and how some of these women in travel journals describe the way these women felt freer on their journeys than in their homes. As Mills rightly points out, this is of course a stark contrast to the life of many of the people they colonized whose freedom was restricted by colonialism. One cannot help but think of Marisa Coulter’s travels here, and how she found freedom by making use of an oppressive system. Her life also very much speaks to a point raised by bell hooks; that white women might often step on the backs of more marginalised people to reach closer to the top of the power pyramid. As hooks puts it:

As a group, black women are in an unusual position in this society, for not only are we collectively at the bottom of the occupational ladder, but our overall social status is lower than that of any other group. Occupying such a position, we bear the brunt of sexist, racist, and classist oppression. At the same time, we are the group that has not been socialized to assume the role of exploiter/oppressor in that we are allowed no institutionalized "other" that we can exploit or oppress. (…) White women and black men have it both ways. They can act as oppressor or be oppressed. Black men may be victimized by racism, but sexism allows them to act as exploiters and oppressors of women. White women may be victimized by sexism, but racism enables them to act as exploiters and oppressors of black people. Both groups have led liberation movements that favor their interests and support the continued oppression of other groups. Black male sexism has undermined struggles to eradicate racism just as white female racism undermines feminist struggle. As long as these two groups or any group defines liberation as gaining social equality with ruling class white men, they have a vested interest in the continued exploitation and oppression of others. (hooks 1984, 14-15) [my bolding of text]

Now, one might argue that hooks leaves out some power structures here, such as ableism and homophobia, but her point about white women’s complicity in white patriarchy still stands. Coulter is, in my opinion, an extreme version of this. She attempts to gain power as a woman in a patriarchal world, which might garner sympathy, but she does it by exploiting children, mainly children from marginalised groups in society. Feminist scholars Cinza Arruzza, Cinzia, Tithi Bhattacharya and Nancy Fraser describe rich white women’s actions in the context of neo-colonial actions (a context which I will return to further on) like this:

But there is nothing feminist about ruling-class women who do the dirty work of bombing other countries and sustaining regimes of apartheid; of backing neocolonial interventions in the name of humanitarianism, while remaining silent about the genocides perpetrated by their own governments; of expropriating defenseless populations through structural adjustment, imposed debt, and forced austerity. In reality, women are the first victims of colonial occupation and war throughout the world. They face systematic harassment, political rape, and enslavement, while enduring the murder and maiming of their loved ones, and the destruction of the infrastructures that enabled them to provide for themselves and their families in the first place. We stand in solidarity with these women-not with warmongers in skirts, who demand gender and sexual liberation for their kin alone. To the state bureaucrats and financial managers, both male and female, who purport to justify their warmongering by claiming to liberate brown and black women, we say: Not in our name. (2019, 53)

Another relevant point to raise here is Coulter’s connection to the zombi. We first hear about these people in Northern Lights, where Lord Asriel explains:

[S]he’s travelled in many places, and seen all kinds of things. She’s travelled in Africa, for instance. The Africans have a way of making a slave called a zombi. It has no will of its own; it will work day and night without ever running away or complaining. (Pullman 2011a, 373)

In the same passage Asriel explains that it was from things like these the GOB arose, and it seems like the zombi soldiers were also made use of. They are mentioned again in The Subtle Knife when the Magisterium is mustering an army in Trollesund, and it seems like they might have been brought on an “African” ship (Pullman 2011b, 41-42). Then later it is noted that Coulter are using men that have undergone intercision as her personal bodyguards/slave soldiers, which one might assume is the same as these zombi (ibid, 199). She is using her power to gain protection by having these slaves, once again climbing to power on the backs of those more marginalised than her.

 The Magisterium’s control and colonization of Asia Minor

Moving on from the Magisterium and Marisa Coulter’s attempts to control the North, I now want to consider the Magisterium and Marcel Delamare’s attempts to control parts of Asia Minor in The Secret Commonwealth. In The Secret Commonwealth we are introduced to Marisa Coulter’s brother Marcel Delemare, who just as his sister is trying to gain power in the Magisterium. His way of doing this is through the organisation La Maison Juste, and by reshaping the Magisterium itself by making use of recent “troubles” in Asia. The reader gets several hints that he himself might be responsible for these troubles by the text saying that he was very aware of these “men from the mountains” (Pullman 2019, 212), and then Oakley Street thinking that these men might come from closer to Europe, rather than from further east in Asia (ibid, 243). In either case, Delamare uses these “troubles” to argue for more centralised control from the magisterium (ibid, 270), a power that he then gets sole control over. Another telling moment is when the director of Oakley Street has this discussion with a friend of the organisation about why the Magisterium is assembling a strike force:

‘To invade Central Asia. There’s talk of a source of valuable chemicals or minerals or something in the desert in the middle of some howling wilderness, and it’s a matter of strategic importance for the Magisterium not to let anyone else get at it before they do. There’s a very strong commercial interest as well. Pharmaceuticals, mainly. (…)’

‘They can’t invade anywhere without an excuse. What’ll it be, d’you think?’

‘That’s what all the diplomacy’s about. I heard that there is or was some sort of science place- a research institute or something- at the edge of the desert concerned. There were scientists from various countries working there, including ours, and they’ve been under pressure from local fanatics, of whom there are not a few, and the casus belli will probably be a confected sense of outrage that innocent scholars have been brutally treated by bandits or terrorists, and the Magisterium’s natural desire to rescue them.’ (Pullman 2019, 592)

As I discussed in the previous section about Once Upon a Time in the North, this practice of using terror as an excuse to invade a region to (partly) get access to natural resources definitely have parallels to our world.

A longstanding justification for colonialism is that “civilised” society shall save the “barbaric” other from itself, and as scholar Margret Denike points out, that has in current times turned into a justification for foreign intervention by for instance the US (2008).  As she puts it:

I look to the narratives of progress and human rights triumphalism, and their concomitant campaigns of fear against an allegedly lawless and evil other, as performative gestures in and by which the very distinctions between civilized and uncivilized states are constituted; and the legitimacy or illegitimacy of their public acts of violence are forged. Relating these processes to the politics of gender and racial colonization, I consider how the utilization of human rights discourses, in conjunction with the language of self-defense, relies on and reinforces the selective and strategic denial of humanity and citizenship to the very groups of people-such as Muslim women and refugees-that have been made to symbolize its cause (Chinkin, Wright, and Charlesworth 2005, 28). There is a certain political economy to the strategic deployment of human rights discourses by colonial and imperial states that have sights set on the profits of war, the operations and effects of which can be mapped through a resurgence of new modalities state sovereignty. (2008, 97)

As Denike further points out, religious (specifically Christian) arguments are often just right below the surface in such discourses about saving the racial Other from evil. Furthermore, it is very common that women specifically are in focus in such arguments, playing on the old trope of “white men saving brown women from brown men” (Denike 2008, 105). This can for instance be seen in the US’s (and the EU’s and NATO’s) “war on terror” where much focus was put on liberating Muslim women. She writes:  

Indeed, the fact that ‘daily security for women has been reduced’ in the aftermath of the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq throws into relief the sad irony of the tale that this has been a “war for women” (Chinkin, Wright, and Charlesworth 2005, 19) and clarifies the gendered politics of Western imperialism’s investment in so-called security. As a counterpart to the docile bodies of veiled and tormented women appears the monstrously demonic, lawless, male terrorist looming larger than life in the fairy tales of triumph against evil. In the talk of the ‘terrorists’ of our time, relatively powerless Muslim and Arabic refugees and immigrants are ascribed, with utter credulity, the powers of mass destruction and plots of imminent nuclear attacks and marked as marginal by racial, religious, or ethnic difference, made to bear the cost of the (seemingly justified) demand for retribution. (2008, 106)

Another aspect I want to raise here, is which lives are sacrificed in such invasions. Which lives are mourned, which lives are acknowledged as human lives at all? Writing about the “war on terror” as well, feminist scholar Judith Butler notes that:

Our own acts of violence do not receive graphic coverage in the press, and so they remain acts that are justified in the name of self defense, but by a noble cause, namely, the rooting out of terrorism. At one point during the war against Afghanistan, it was reported that the Northern Alliance may have slaughtered a village: Was this to be investigated and, if confirmed, prosecuted as a war crime? When a bleeding child or dead body on Afghan soil emerges in the press coverage, it is not relayed as part of the horror of war, but only in the service of a criticism of the military's capacity to aim its bombs right. We castigate ourselves for not aiming better, as if the end goal is to aim right. We do not, however, take the sign of destroyed life and decimated peoples as something for which we are responsible, or indeed understand how that decimation works to confirm the United States as performing atrocities. Our own acts are not considered terrorist. (Butler 2004, 7)

One might very well wonder the same when the Magisterium sacrifices the lives of thousands to gain power in Asia.

I also do not think it’s a coincidence that we learn of private (Western) corporations’ interest in resources in both The Secret Commonwealth and Once Upon a Time in the North. As Arruzza, Bhattacharya and Fraser note, capitalist interest are often very much intertwined with neo-colonial interventions: “Throughout the world, leading capitalist interests (Big Fruit, Big Pharma, Big Oil, and Big Arms) have systematically promoted authoritarianism and repression, coups d'etats and imperial wars.” (2019, 52) Perhaps the worst instance of capitalism interest in this area in The Secret Commonwealth is the trafficking of daemons, and essential enslavement of their humans (mostly Tajik people, who seem to be a marginalised ethnic group). As the priest that Lyra meets puts it:

‘It’s poverty,’ he said. ‘There’s a market for daemons. Medical knowledge here is quite advanced, unlike other things. Big corporations are behind it. They say the medical companies are experimenting here before expanding into the European market. There’s a surgical operation… Many people survive it now. Parents will sell their children’s daemons for money to stay alive. It’s technically illegal, but big money brushes the law aside… When the children grow up, they’re not full citizens, being incomplete.’ (Pullman 2019, 660)

This practice obviously reminds the readers of what the Magisterium and the GOB was doing at Bolvangar, but here it is done by big corporations being able to skirt the law by means of their money. It also seems like the companies doing it are European, since it’s stated that they are experimenting here before expanding to the European market. It also bears a similarity to how the Magisterium and Coulter used zombi as slave soldiers. In general, in The Secret Commonwealth we see how the world of His Dark Materials are not simply full of corrupt religious authority, but also corrupt capitalist corporations who are often collaborating with the religious organisations. Another thing this reveal about the way the Tajik are treated does is make clear that the East is “bad”, in a way that seems very similar to how similar areas are seen in our own world (which I discussed above in relation to “the war on terror”). This is also extremely clear in the scene where Lyra is sexually assaulted on the train, and perhaps especially in the aftermath of that when the sergeant of the soldiers assaulting her advices her to wear a niqab in the future (Pullman 2019, 642). This combined with Lyra’s dislike of wearing a niqab later, “it looked neat enough. And safe. And nullifying.” (ibid, 664), seems to indicate a view that women are especially oppressed in this area of the world, and especially by wearing clothing such as a niqab. This is a contrast to the view of many Muslim women who do wear niqabs, who might describe the experience of wearing a niqab as liberating and empowering and see the niqab as an identity signifier (Zempi 2016).

Another aspect of this neo-colonial activity in Asia in The Secret Commonwealth that I want to consider is that it forces people to flee their homes and attempt to seek refuge in Europe. In her travels Lyra sees several of these refugees, first in Prague where her guide Kubiček explains:

‘More of them arrive every day. The Magisterium has begun to encourage each province of the Church to regulate its territory with a firmer hand. In Bohemia things are not yet as savage as elsewhere; refugees are still given sanctuary. But that can’t go on indefinitely. We shall have to begin turning them away before too long.’ (Pullman 2019, 409)

It’s interesting here that the Magisterium is telling provinces of the Church to regulate immigration, it seems similar to what the EU might do in our world. Well, these people have at least managed to make their way to Prague, later Lyra sees people on a boat trying to cross the Mediterranean (Pullman 2019, 483). This clearly seems to be a reference to refugees in our world attempting the same, especially during and after the so called 2015 “refugee crisis” in Europe. Many have criticised this labelling, since it turns the refugees into the crisis, not the war and other circumstances that has led to them having to flee. As researcher Ida Danewid points out, it reduces the crisis to something Europe have to handle only when it reaches its shores:

By divorcing the ongoing Mediterranean crisis from Europe’s long history of empire and racial violence, these left-liberal interventions ultimately turn questions of accountability, guilt, restitution, repentance, and structural reform into matters of empathy, generosity, and hospitality. The result is a politics of pity rather than justice, to borrow the words of Hannah Arendt, and a consequent recasting of the relationship between the oppressor and the oppressed as one between the lucky and the unlucky. As anti-colonial scholars such as Césaire, Cabral, and Fanon remind us, such wilful amnesia sits at the heart of the colonial project. Charles Mills and Linda Alcoff have recently described this as ‘an epistemology of ignorance’ (of not knowing, or of not wanting to know), as a form of Forgetting or white amnesia through which Western publics come to believe not only that the world is post-colonial and post-racial, but also that the long history of colonialism, racialised indentured servitude, indigenous genocide, and transatlantic slavery have left no traces in culture, language, and knowledge production. (Danewid 2017, 1681)

This seems incredibly similar to how the issue is framed in The Secret Commonwealth. Simply as an issue of lucky versus unlucky, rather as a result of historical and current colonialism from Europe upon the world. Clearly the refugees in The Secret Commonwealth has had to flee due to conflict that is clearly the fault of the Magisterium and big corporations, that are both fuelled by European interests. But still these refugees have to rely on the good will of the countries they’re fleeing to, and hope that they will not close their borders.

 Conclusion

In this essay I have attempted to argue that while the history of Lyra’s world in His Dark Materials is different than our own, many of the racist, white supremacy, and colonial powers operate similarly. From the discrimination toward gyptians, to the eugenic like work of the GOB, to the racist and colonial treatment of the bears, to the neo-colonial capitalist and governmental collaboration in Asia Minor, it seems clear that colonialism definitely exist in the world of His Dark Materials. In most of these instances, the religious authority of the Magisterium is at centre, and functions similar to how a colonial power might. But perhaps it would be more accurate to liken it to a neo-colonial power, similar to the EU, NATO, or the US and the way they have acted when attempting to stamp out terror (and in reality, expanding their own power). Just as in our world the colonial history of Lyra’s world is far from over. As Sara Ahmed puts it, racism is an unfinished and ongoing history which impacts how we navigate the world both as individuals, and how the world itself is set up (2006). Hopefully both our fictional heroes and ourselves can continue fighting against it.

  References

Ahmed, Sara. 2004. “Collective Feelings- Or, the Impression Left By Others”. Theory, Culture & Society. 21(2): 25-42.

Ahmed, Sara. 2006. Queer Phenomenology. Durham & London: Duke University Press.

Amnesty. 2020. Human Rights on the Margins: Roma in Europe. https://www.amnesty.org.uk/files/roma_in_europe_briefing.pdf

Arruzza, Cinzia, Tithi Bhattacharya and Nancy Fraser. 2019. Feminism for the 99 percent- a manifesto. New York: Verso. S. 1-59

Butler, Judith. 2004. Precarious life. The Powers of Mourning and Violence. London & New York: Verso.

Clark, Colin Robert. 2001. ‘Invisible lives’: The Gypties and Travellers of Britain. PhD thesis, Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh.

Danewid, Ida. 2017. ”White Innocence in the Black Mediterranean: Hospitality and the Erasure of History.” Third World Quarterly, 38(7): 1674-1689.

Denike, Margret. 2008. “The Human Rights of Others: Sovereignty, Legitimacy and ‘Just Causes’ for the ‘War on Terror’.” Hypatia, 23(2): 95-121.

Girls Gone Canon. 2020a. His Dark Materials Episode 11- The Subtle Knife Chapters 5-6. March 27, 2020. https://girlsgonecanon.podbean.com/e/his-dark-materials-episode-11-the-subtle-knife-chapters-5-6/

Girls Gone Canon. 2020b. Patreon E21: Lee Scoresby's Spaghetti Western - Once Upon a Time in the North. April 29, 2020. https://www.patreon.com/posts/patreon-e21-lee-36514273

His Dark Materials Wiki. n.d. Lyra's world. Accessed August 11, 2020. https://hisdarkmaterials.fandom.com/wiki/Lyra%27s_world

hooks, bell. 1984. Feminist theory from margin to center. Boston: South End Press.

Lo-Lynx. 2019. The Nordic influences in His Dark Materials. November 22, 2019. https://lo-lynx.tumblr.com/post/189230180712/the-nordic-influences-in-his-dark-materials

Mills, Sara. 2003. ”Gender and colonial space.” In Feminist postcolonial theory: A reader, eds. Lewis, Reina & Sara Mills. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University.

Mohanty Talpade, Chandra. 1988. “Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourses.” Feminist Review. 30 (Autumn, 1988): 61-8.

Pullman, Philip. 2011a. Northern Lights. London: Scholastic.

Pullman, Philip. 2011b. The Subtle Knife. London: Scholastic.

Pullman, Philip. 2017. Once Upon a Time in the North. New York: Random House.

Pullman, Philip. 2018. La Belle Sauvage. London: Penguin Books.

Pullman, Philip. 2019. The Secret Commonwealth. London: Penguin Books.

Samer.se. n.d. a. “I Guds tjänst” [In the service of God]. Samer. Retrieved August 11, 2020. http://samer.se/4441

Samer.se. n.d. b. “Kolonaliseringen av Sápmi”[The colonalization of Sápmi]. Samer. Retrieved August 11, 2020. http://samer.se/1218

Selling, Jan. 2013. Svensk antiziganism: Fördomens kontinuitet och förändringens förutsättningar [Swedish anti-gypsyism: The continuity of prejudice and the conditions for change]. Limhamn: Sekel bokförlag.

Stoler, Ann Laura. 1997. “Making empire respectable: The politics of race and sexual morality in twentieth-century colonial cultures.” In Dangerous liaisons: Gender, nation & postcolonial perspectives. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Zempi, Irene. 2016 “‘It’s a part of me, I feel naked without it’: choice, agency and identity for Muslim women who wear the niqab.” Ethnic and Racial Studies. 39(10): 1738–1754.

[lo-lynx]

Alleras/Sarella, The Sphinx traversing boundaries of sex and gender

CW: Transphobia, sexism, racism, sexual violence

Spoiler warning: Spoilers for all A Song of Ice and Fire books.

In A Feast for Crows the reader is introduced to the mysterious Alleras, a student of the Citadel in Oldtown. Alleras is described in the prologue as a slight and comely youth, doted on by the serving girls at the inn The Quill and Tankard. We soon learn that he’s called “The Sphinx” by his friends, and the text tells us: “The Sphinx was always smiling, as if he knew some secret jape. It gave him a wicked look that went well with his pointed chin, widow’s peak, and dense mat of close-cropped jet-black curls.” This description, among other things, have led readers to think that Alleras is actually Sarella Sand, the child of Oberyn Martell (see more of the evidence laid out here). But what are we to make of Sarella’s appearance as Alleras in Oldtown? Is it simply a matter of convenience, since women aren’t accepted at the Citadel? Or could it be something more… queer? In this essay I therefore want to make the argument that it’s possible to read Sarella/Alleras as queer and/or trans character as well.

Theoretical background: concepts explained

Before I go any further, I want to clarify that I use both trans and queer very broadly here. When writing this essay, I’m mostly inspired by the field of transgender studies, which is described by Susan Stryker (one of its founders as an academic discipline) thusly:

Transgender studies, as we understand it, is the academic field that claims as its purview transsexuality and cross-dressing, some aspects of intersexuality and homosexuality, cross-cultural and historical investigations of human gender diversity, myriad specific subcultural expressions of “gender atypicality,” theories of sexed embodiment and subjective gender identity development, law and public policy related to the regulation of gender expression, and many other similar issues. It is an interdisciplinary field that draws upon the social sciences and psychology, the physical and life sciences, and the humanities and arts. It is as concerned with material conditions as it is with representational practices, and often pays particularly close attention the interface between the two. (…) Most broadly conceived, the field of transgender studies is concerned with anything that disrupts, denaturalizes, rearticulates, and makes visible the normative linkages we generally assume to exist between the biological specificity of the sexually differentiated human body, the social roles and statuses that a particular form of body is expected to occupy, the subjectively experienced relationship between a gendered sense of self and social expectations of gender-role performance, and the cultural mechanisms that work to sustain or thwart specific configurations of gendered personhood. (Stryker 2006, 3)

That is to say, when I say that I do a trans and queer analysis of a character I’m not necessarily saying that I think the character I’m analysing would identify as trans or queer in the modern conceptualisation of those terms. As I’ll expand on later, different cultures during different times of history have had different ways of conceiving of gender and transness. I do, however, still use trans as an umbrella term for people who disrupts and denaturalises the normative links between sex and gender etc (as Stryker puts it), while recognising that this is a very historically and culturally specific term. I similarly use queer as an umbrella term for that which disrupts normative links between sex/gender and sexuality. However, I do of course realise that people use both trans and queer as identity labels today, and not just theoretical tools (I do that myself). Nevertheless, for the purposes of this essay, I will use trans and queer more as descriptors of a myriad gender/sexuality expressions, than as specific identity labels. Having addressed that, I’ll now go on to some of the theory and analysis.

 Theoretical background: trans history

Firstly, I want to take a brief look at research about historical trans people. Afterall, even if ASOIAF makes use of modern conceptualisations of gender, as I’ve argued before, it is set in a medievalesque time. Therefore, it could be useful to consider what we know about trans people historically, and furthermore, how historians have described them. When starting to do research for this essay, I was reminded of an article by Peter Boag which analyses gender nonconformity in the American West during the late nineteenth century (2005). While this is not the same time period as ASOIAF, I think his arguments can be applied to how trans people have been conceived of generally in research. He writes: “Feminist scholars and popular writers of women’s history have traditionally ignored the possibility of transgenderism among " female-to-male" cross-dressers of the late-nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century West.” (ibid, 477) (Note: I would not use the term “transgenderism” today, but while the terminology is a bit dated in this article, the arguments still stand) He further notes that while feminist scholars have written about the existence of people who lived as another gender than they were assigned at birth during this time, they haven’t usually been interpreted as trans. When it comes to people who were assigned female at birth, but presented as men, they have usually been interpreted either as women attempting to find a place in a patriarchal world, or possibly as lesbians. One obstacle to analysing the existence of trans people during this time is of course the lack of sources (and obviously the fact that the term “transgender” didn’t exist then, even if gender nonconforming people did). However, as Boag also writes:

Further obfuscating the trans in the gender history of the West is the narrative structure that scholars and popular writers have employed to tell the story of the cross dresser. Marjorie Garber has termed this storytelling device the "progress narrative." Within it, transvestism is normalized, the argument being that the subject changed her clothing in order to obtain employment in a man's world, or because she wanted to succeed in a profession that her biological sex otherwise excluded her from, or because she needed to support her family, or because she desired to follow a husband or male lover into a milieu, such as the army, which excluded women. While the progress narrative has been a storytelling device utilized by scholars who have studied cross-dressing "women" in all eras and places, it has been particularly strong in the historiography of the West. (Boag 2005, 483)

Now, Boag also notes that women at the time (and at other times) might have cross-dressed for these (more practical) reasons too. But the records that do exist also indicates that others didn’t just dress as men, they considered themselves to be men, and some were considered as such by their community too, even when said community suspected they were assigned female at birth.

The description of this “progress narrative” is reminiscent of a lot of what trans activist and researcher Leslie Feinberg describes in hir ground-breaking book on trans history, Transgender warriors (1996). Feinberg describes that book as:

Transgender Warriors is not an exhaustive trans history, or even the history of the rise and development of the modern trans movement. Instead, it is a fresh look at sex and gender in history and the interrelationships of class, nationality, race, and sexuality. Have all societies recognized only two sexes? Have people who traversed the boundaries of sex and gender always been so demonized? Why is sex-reassignment or cross-dressing a matter of law? But how could I find the answers to these questions when it means wending my way through diverse societies in which the concepts of sex and gender shift like sand dunes over the ages? And as a white, transgender researcher, how can I avoid foisting my own interpretations on the cultures of oppressed peoples' nationalities?(…). I've also included photos from cultures all over the world, and I've sought out people from those countries and nationalities to help me create short, factual captions. I tried very hard not to interpret or compare these different cultural expressions. These photographs are not meant to imply that the individuals pictured identify themselves as transgender in the modern, Western sense of the word. Instead, I've presented their images as a challenge to the currently accepted Western dominant view that woman and man are all that exist, and that there is only one way to be a woman or a man. (ibid, XI)

I include this whole quote because thought it was important to preface the discussion of Feinberg’s arguments in this book by explaining hir intent with the book, and how zie reasoned while researching and writing it. Now, throughout the book Feinberg writes about how different people throughout history have traversed the boundaries of sex and gender (I love how zie puts that), including for instance Joan of Arc. Zie describes how researching Joan of Arc was one of the inspirations of this entire book, when zie started thinking about the fact that: “If society strictly mandates only men can be warriors, isn’t a woman military leader dressed in armor an example of cross-gendered expression?” (ibid, 31) When researching Joan of Arc zie realised that the fact that she dressed in “men’s garb” did contribute to her persecution by the Inquisition, and that was ultimately the crime for which she was killed. Feinberg also notes that Joan were often referred to as “hommasse”, a slur meaning man-woman. Allow me to quote Feinberg again:

The English urged the Catholic Church to condemn Joan for cross-dressing. The king of England, Henry VI, wrote to the infamous Inquisitor Pierre Cauchon, the Bishop of Beauvais: "It is sufficiently notorious and well-known that for some time past a woman calling herself Jeanne the Pucelle (the Maid) , leaving off the dress and clothing of the feminine sex, a thing contrary to divine law and abominable before God, and forbidden by all laws, wore clothing and armour such as is worn by men." Buried beneath this outrage against Joan's cross-dressing was a powerful class bias. It was an affront to nobility for a peasant to wear armor and ride a fine horse. (…) On April 2, 1431, the Inquisition dropped the charges of witchcraft against Joan, because they were too hard to prove. Instead, they denounced her for asserting that her cross-dressing was a religious duty compelled by voices she heard in visions, and for maintaining that these voices were a higher authority than the Church. Many historians and academicians view Joan of Arc's wearing men's clothing as inconsequential. Yet the core of the charges against Joan focused on her cross-dressing, the crime for which she ultimately was executed. (…) Even though she knew her defiance meant she was considered damned, Joan's testimony in her own defense [sic] revealed how deeply her cross-dressing was rooted in her identity. "For nothing in the world," she declared, "will I swear not to arm myself and put on a man's dress.” (ibid, 34-35)

(Note: I find it interesting that Henry VI pops up here, considering that GRRM has said that he and The War of the Roses on a whole has influenced ASOIAF, but I’m not sure exactly what to make of it.) It seems clear then that Joan of Arc were persecuted partly because she insisted on dressing in “men’s clothes”. Now, one could argue that Joan only cross-dressed for practical reasons. That’s an argument that’s often brought up with historical people who traversed sex and gender boundaries, like Boar also writes (2005). Feinberg discusses this in hir book as well, and how zie have heard similar explanations of hir own life:

"No wonder you've passed as a man! This is such an anti-woman society," a lesbian friend told me. To her, females passing as males are simply trying to escape women's oppression - period. She believes that once true equality is achieved in society, humankind will be genderless. I don't have a crystal ball, so I can't predict human behavior in a distant future. But I know what she's thinking – if we can build a more just society, people like me will cease to exist. She assumes that I am simply a product of oppression. Gee, thanks so much. (Feinberg 1996, 83).

That is to say, we should be careful when assuming that gender nonconforming people of the past are “simply a product of oppression.” Feinberg also makes the important point that, for instance, someone being assigned female at birth presenting as a man isn’t necessarily safer than if they were to continue presenting as a woman. If other people discover the circumstance of one’s birth that can lead to quite a lot of violence.

The last point I want to make about historical trans people before moving on is the need to consider the context of the narratives we have about such people. In their PhD thesis Fleshing out the self- Reimagining intersexed and trans embodied lives through (auto)biographical accounts of the past trans scholar M. Holm cautions against both taking historical accounts of transness too literally and viewing them through a contemporary lens too much (2017). When analysing trans and intersex accounts from the beginning of the 20th century they write:

My postmodern approach to experience and experiential accounts means that I do not read the (auto)biographical texts as representational accounts in relation to a project of discovering the hidden truth about how it was to be an intersex or trans person (understood from current definitions and as stable identity categories) during the first three quarters of the 20th century. (…) I regard (auto)biographical accounts as containing traces of events, bodies, feelings, actions, relationships, institutions, politics, and much more that existed in this period and made specific kinds of impressions on individuals, in relation to which they have acted. However, I do not regard any account as an unmediated representation of, or truthful testimony to, any of these phenomena. Rather, I perceive all accounts as articulations that are dependent on the concepts and narrative models available to the narrator and on the general socio-historical and specific local and temporal situation of their narration, including the narrator’s specific relation to the receiver(s) of the account and the conscious and unconscious intentions, hopes, and fears related to the telling. (ibid, 70) [my bolding of the text]

That is to say, the way someone describes their gender is dependent on the circumstances surrounding this description, including the concepts and language available to them. As Holm outlines further on in their thesis, at times trans people might have had to tell their stories in accordance to certain narratives in order to get access to health care, or simply to make themselves make sense to other people.

All of this is essentially to say that since we don’t know how Sarella/Alleras would describe their gender themselves, we can’t be sure that they’re presenting as a man just to gain access to a male institution (the Citadel). As Boag points out with similar examples from the 19th century, this might be a contributing factor, but one should not assume it’s the only factor in play. Furthermore, as Feinberg writes, someone being assigned as female at birth but presenting as a man is not necessarily safer for it. This is something I’ve explored in an ASOIAF context before, for instance in this text about Brienne and Arya. I’ll return to some of these historical parallels further on, but before that I want to look at some more theory on traversing boundaries of sex and gender.

 Theoretical background: queering and trans-ing gender

In his book Female Masculinity Jack Halberstam writes about masculinity is interpreted in people who were assigned female at birth (1998). He notes that:

Tomboyism tends to be associated with a ‘natural’ desire for the greater freedoms and mobilities enjoyed by boys. Very often it is read as a sign of independence and self-motivation, and tomboyism may even be encouraged to the extent that it remains comfortably linked to a stable sense of a girl identity. Tomboyism is punished, however, when it appears to be the sign of extreme male identification (taking a boy’s name or refusing girl clothing of any type) and when it threatens to extend beyond childhood and into adolescence. (ibid, 6)

Here we once again see how masculinity in “girls” is interpreted as a wish for freedom, while more persistent masculine identification is punished. Halberstam goes on to discuss how lesbians are often seen as masculine (in our contemporary society), writing that “the bulldyke, indeed, has made lesbianism visible and legible as some sort of confluence of gender disturbance and sexual orientation.” (ibid, 119) He also notes that black women are generally seen as more masculine than white women, and that black lesbians are often stereotyped as the “butch bulldagger”. All this is to say that bodies who are assigned female at birth can inhabit masculinity in a myriad of ways, and both race and sexuality is often tied up in how the surroundings perceive their gender. Halberstam also makes note of how the concept of passing as a gender is not necessarily a useful concept for all gender nonconforming bodies:

For many gender deviants, the notion of passing is singularly unhelpful. Passing as a narrative assumes that there is a self that masquerades as another kind of self and does so successfully; at various moments, the successful pass may cohere into something akin to identity. At such a moment, the passer has become. What of a biological female who presents as butch, passes as male in some circumstances and reads as butch in others, and considers herself not to be a woman but maintains distance from the category ‘man’? For such a subject, identity might best be described as process with multiple sites for becoming and being. (ibid, 21)

(Note: when Halberstam writes “gender deviants” he means it in the eyes of society, he’s not condemning such people himself). What Halberstam says here is essentially that a person might pass/read differently in different situations, and for some that might mean that their identity is a bit fluid (“a process with multiple sites for becoming and being”). I think this is relevant to connect to what another trans studies scholar, Signe Bremer, writes about passing, as well as interpellation (2017). I wrote more about Bremer’s arguments in this essay about Brienne, but essentially Bremer describes the act of passing as having one’s body become invisible when inhabiting a space, and thus fitting comfortably (ibid, 134). Bremer furthermore writes about interpellation:

What is meant with interpellation, in the way that Judith Butler conceives of it, is the performative acts of speech through which bodies, by the act of being named, step into the sphere of coherence, and are constituted as possible subjects and ‘real’ people. (ibid, 196) (my translation)

What Bremer is saying here, is that when someone is named as something (for instance as a man), that person is understood as that thing (for instance as a man). People and society make sense of someone through the naming of them. Bremer also notes, however, that interpellation does not require the consent of the individual, interpellation can also be forced upon the individual. This is because, for a body to be interpaled it must follow the lines/norms of society which makes it possible for the body to be recognised as a human. As Bremer notes, this can often result in trans people being interpaled as a wrong gender.

This brings me to the final theoretical point I want to make, namely that sometimes trans people aren’t “constituted as possible subjects and ‘real’ people” as Bremer puts it (2017, 196). Susan Stryker makes a similar point about how trans people are often seen as unnormal and monstrous (1994) Stryker writes that in society there exist a regulatory schemata (e.g. gender and sexuality norms) which determines which bodies and lives “make sense” and are considered “livable”. Since trans people are generally not able to comply with such regulatory norms they are relegated to the “domain of abjected bodies” that exists outside of the domain of normalcy (ibid, 249). Such a domain exists since, for something to be considered normal, something else must be considered unnormal. So, for cis gendered heterosexual people to be considered normal trans and queer people have to be considered unnormal. This is one of the reasons trans people are often seen as abnormal and monstrous according to Stryker (which can often be painful, and lead to trans people feeling rage against the structures that try to constrain us). Another reason for trans people being seen as monstrous, according to her, is that trans people make cis people aware of “the constructetiness of the natural order” (ibid, 250). Stryker specifically discusses how trans people have often been compared to Frankenstein’s monster, and argues for reclaiming the identity of the monster (similar to how the word queer has been reclaimed by LGBTQ+ people). She notes that the word monster is derived from the Latin noun “monstrum” which means “divine portent” and is formed from the verb “monere” which means “to warn”. Monster ended up referring living things of anomalous shape, or fantastical creatures such as the sphinx “who were composed of strikingly incongruous parts” (ibid, 240). This was because the people of the time thought such beings were the sign of some supernatural events and considered monsters (similarly to angels) to be messengers and heralds of the extraordinary. Stryker therefore takes up the voice of the monster to convey this message (and I really have to quote this because it’s so brilliant):

Hearken unto me, fellow creatures. I who have dwelt in a form unmatched with my desire, I whose flesh has become an assemblage of incongruous anatomical parts, I who achieve the similitude of a natural body only through an unnatural process, I offer you this warning: the Nature you bedevil me with is a lie. Do not trust it to protect you from what I represent, for it is a fabrication that cloaks the groundlessness of the privilege you seek to maintain for yourself at my expense. You are as constructed as me; the same anarchic womb has birthed us both. I call upon you to investigate your nature as I have been compelled to confront mine. I challenge you to risk abjection and flourish as well as have I. Heed my words, and you may well discover the seams and sutures in yourself. (ibid)

Essentially what she’s saying is that trans people can function as a wake-up call to question the limiting norms of society if people have the sense to listen, and not demonise us. It should be noted that in the years since its publishing several people have questioned Stryker’s omission of race when discussing transgender monstrosity, which she acknowledges herself in a 2019 article.

Other writers, however, such as black trans scholar Marquis Bey have noted the ways (trans)gender and race interact, and specifically the similarities between transness and blackness (2017). Bey argues that there is a transness within blackness, and a blackness within transness, since both categories are disruptive of gender and other hegemonic structures. Historically neither black people nor trans people have seen as gendered in the same way as cis white people have, with both black femininity and black masculinity being seen as very different from their white counterparts. Furthermore, both trans people and black people are often not granted personhood and humanity in the same way as cis white people are. Both groups are often seen as unhuman in different ways (and there is obviously also overlap over the groups). Bey writes: “By now we know that trans* suggests, and has suggested, the unclassifiable and illegible, but I would assert that it also suggests the pervasive moving nonmovement that precedes that which is human, that which is animal, that which legibly is.” (ibid, 285) This, he argues, is similar to blackness. Finally, it should be noted that Bey isn’t claiming that blackness and transness is the exact same, just that there are similarities, which is understandable given how structures of race and gender are intertwined.

 Analysis

After this very long theoretical background, I will now return to the matter at hand, Alleras/Sarella (henceforth referred to as A/S). As I noted in the introduction to this essay, A/S is described as comely and slender in the text on several occasions. In the prologue of A Feast for Crows Pate thinks this for instance: “The Sphinx looks slight, but there’s strength in those slim arms.” Later in the same book Sam (Samwell V) describes them as “a slim, slight, comely youth.” Sam also notes that after he has finished talking to A/S, they “touched him lightly on the forearm with a slim brown hand”, which is once again similar language. Other readers have picked up on the continual description of A/S as slender and argue that this works as a clue that Alleras and Sarella is the same person, which seems very probable. Nonetheless, the other characters interacting with A/S clearly read A/S as a young man. I can’t help but think of the men in the American West that Boag writes about, who despite being assigned female at birth managed to live their life as men and was accepted as such by their community (2005). Now, just as Boag writes about with these people, a common interpretation of A/S’s behaviour is that they simply dress as a man to get into the citadel. There is definitely evidence in the text that they would be interested in the Citadel, for instance in the chapter The Queenmaker Arianne remembers how they were fascinated by Shandystone when they visited there with Oberyn: “Sarella turned over rocks, brushed sand off the mosaics, and wanted to know everything there was to know about the people who had lived there.” Later, in the chapter The Princess in the Tower, Arianne also reflects on how “Sarella was forever pushing in where she didn’t belong.” Both these quotes have been seen by fans as evidence that Sarella is in fact Alleras, since they support them being interested in scientific pursuits and pushing into places where they don’t belong (such as an all-male institution like the Citadel). Furthermore, in The Captain of Guards chapter, when Doran Martell is rounding up the sand snakes, he notes that Sarella is not in Dorne and says: “Leave her to her… game.” That might indicate that A/S is simply dressing up as a man as a game, as a fun way to get information from the Citadel. However, as I’ve noted previously in this essay, we don’t have A/S’s own point of view. Doran might just be assuming that their motivation is to get into the Citadel and that they see it as a game. Again, I find it similar to how Boag references the “progress narrative” which reduces cross-dressing among people who were assigned female at birth to a tool to get around patriarchy (2005). As Boag writes, this could be one motivation, but there is also very possible that some of these people did genuinely consider themselves to be men. As Feinberg writes, one shouldn’t assume that someone’s being and identity is simply a result of their oppression (1996, 83). Furthermore, as Feinberg argues in the case of Joan of Arc, someone dressing in clothes other than the ones “belonging” to their gender is still a case of cross-gender expression. It’s still someone traversing the boundaries of sex and gender. It’s still somewhat queer or trans, if one uses the broad definition that I explained in the beginning of this essay. Moreover, as Holm argues, one needs to consider the context that a narrative is told (2017, 70). In the case of the (possibly) trans men in the West, these people most likely used the language available to them to describe themselves (this is by the way also a note that Boag himself raises). It’s also relevant to consider who wrote down their narratives, and for what purpose. In A/S’s case, we do not have their own point of view, and therefore rely on impressions from others. There’s also no reason to believe that these narrators of A/S’s story would know how to describe for instance a trans person. Maybe they would just think they were playing dress up, just playing a game.

Somewhat related to this, as discussed in the theoretical background, Halberstam also notes that one’s own identity can become a bit difficult to pin down when one passes and reads differently in different contexts (1998). The example that he brings up is especially pertinent to the discussion about A/S, I think:

What of a biological female who presents as butch, passes as male in some circumstances and reads as butch in others, and considers herself not to be a woman but maintains distance from the category ‘man’? For such a subject, identity might best be described as process with multiple sites for becoming and being. (ibid, 21)

Now, A/S clearly passes as a man in some circumstances despite being assigned female at birth. What their sexuality is seems unclear, even if we know that the serving women at The Quill and Tankard flirts with them there’s no indication that they flirt back. But one could read them as a butch lesbian too, who chooses to pass as a man for convenience sake (as discussed above). While on the topic of butch lesbians, it seems relevant to note that A/S is black, and as Halberstam notes, black women and black lesbians are often seen as more masculine. This could very well be a factor in how A/S passes as a man. However, even if A/S didn’t start passing as a man for specifically trans reasons, what becomes of one’s identity if one does pass as a man regularly? Could such a person consider themselves to be not-quite-woman but not-quite-man (as Halberstam suggests) perhaps?

Another relevant aspect to consider is interpellation. As Bremer writes, interpellation is what makes someone seem coherent, what makes one a real person in the eyes of others (2017). Currently in the story A/S is being interpelled as a man, regardless of how they actually identify. People see them as a man and interact with them accordingly. Something that would be relevant to consider then is what would happen if it was revealed that A/S was in fact assigned female at birth. As Feinberg rightly points out, it’s not necessarily safer for a woman to dress up as a man, and such a revelation could lead to violence (1996, 83). I discussed this in depth in my essay about Brienne and Arya, but to summarise; likely nothing good would happen. Another parallel in ASOIAF that is worth raising here is the story about Danny Flint, who was raped and murdered for the “crime” of dressing as a man and joining the Night’s Watch (as told in Bran IV in ASOS and Jon XII in ADWD). Why? Well, in the essay about Brienne and Arya I argued that it was because in the eyes of society, gender nonconformity must be corrected through the enforcement of heterosexuality. Someone who, as Arianne puts it, pushes in where they do not belong might face significant violence. This is something Halberstam discusses in several texts (1998; 2005), as I go into depth about in the Brienne and Arya essay.

Another reason for such violence, as I’ve argued in this essay, is that trans people (in the broad definition of the term) aren’t seen as fully human. As Stryker writes, we’re seen as monstrous, as an assemblage of incongruous parts (1994). Stryker herself, in her mission to reclaim power by reclaiming the figure of the monster, likens this to a Sphinx. I therefore want to compare what Stryker writes about the Sphinx (and the transgender monster), and the explanation of why A/S is called The Sphinx:

[Monster] came to refer to living things of anomalous shape or structure, fabulous creatures like the sphinx who were composed of strikingly incongruous parts (…) Hearken unto me, fellow creatures. I who have dwelt in a form unmatched with my desire, I whose flesh has become an assemblage of incongruous anatomical parts, I who achieve the similitude of a natural body only through an unnatural process… (Stryker 1994, 240)

A sphinx is a bit of this, a bit of that: a human face, the body of a lion, the wings of a hawk. Alleras was the same: his father was a Dornishman, his mother a black-skinned Summer Islander. (AFFC, Prolouge)

Now, I’m not suggesting that GRRM has read Susan Stryker’s article, but I think it’s very interesting that they both draw on the imagery of the Sphinx. It also seems relevant to note that A/S’s sphinxness is specifically connected to their race (even if a reader should probably also connect it to their gender by reading between the lines). Later in the prologue Leo Tyrell calls A/S a “mongrel” due to their racial background, which reinforces this connection. He also says: “Your mother is a monkey from the Summer Isles. The Dornish will fuck everything with a hole between its legs.” This is something I discussed further in an old essay about the sexualised Other in ASOIAF. But in light of the way sexuality, gender, and race become intertwined in these comments from Leo, it becomes very relevant to return to what Bey writes about blackness and transness being similar (2017). As Bey writes, both trans people and black people disrupt hegemonic structures around gender, and both are often dehumanised. A/S most definitely do both these things, both by passing as a man while being assigned female at birth, and by their racial background. Bey writes this following quote about transness, and I think that for A/S it is just as true for their race: “By now we know that trans* suggests, and has suggested, the unclassifiable and illegible, but I would assert that it also suggests the pervasive moving nonmovement that precedes that which is human, that which is animal, that which legibly is.” (Bey 2017, 285) A/S is truly a Sphinx, both in relation to their gender and their race, and those are very much connected. If A/S’s assigned gender at birth is revealed, both those aspects will most likely contribute to their dehumanisation in some people’s eyes.

 Conclusion

Throughout this essay I have tried to argue that it is possible to read Alleras/Sarella as not just a woman trying to get access to an all-male institution as a game (as their uncle describes it), but possibly as a trans person. Part of my argument for this has been to point to historical examples where researchers argue that such an interpretation of similar situations might be too simplistic, as with the texts by Boag and Feinberg (2005; 1996). Furthermore, I’ve also pointed out that one needs to consider trans narratives in their context, for instance by looking at who tells the narrative and what language and narrative is available to them. I’ve also argued, by once again referencing Feinberg, that someone’s identity can’t simply be reduced to the result of one’s oppression. My intent with these arguments has been to open up the possibility of reading A/S as trans, to then be able to proceed with such a reading. As I’ve shown with that analysis, multiple things could support such a reading. However, even after that, I would not be comfortable with labelling A/S as a certain gender. I could see A/S being a butch lesbian, some sort of non-binary/genderqueer person, or as a trans man. Even so, I think the fact that they pass as a man is very significant as an expression of transness (in the broad definition of the term). It is a form of cross-gender expression and it has similar implications and possible consequences as it would for someone who identifies as trans. This becomes especially clear when one considers that A/S is also black and have already been the target of dehumanising comments from for instance Leo Tyrell. Were people in Oldtown to become aware of A/S’s assigned gender at birth there’s a pretty good chance they wouldn’t think of A/S as a Sphinx in a positive light, but rather as them being monstrous and/or inhuman. Nevertheless, if I were to give Alleras/Sarella some sort of label, it would be as a sphinx. They’re a mix of this and that, both regarding gender and race. Others might revile them for that, but I hope they can find pride in it. Afterall, as Stryker and Bey point out, both inhabiting transness and blackness gives one the opportunity to disrupt the oppressive structures that exist in the world. Even if they can’t do that in the story, I hope that they might inspire readers to, in the words of Stryker, “discover the seams and sutures in yourself.” (1994, 240) I would therefore like to finish this text by quoting the final passage of Stryker’s article (1994, 251), signing off on behalf of us monsters:

If this is your path, as it is mine, let me offer whatever solace you may find in this monstrous benediction: May you discover the enlivening power of darkness within yourself. May it nourish your rage. May your rage inform your actions, and your actions transform you as you struggle to transform your world.

 References

A Wiki of Ice and Fire. n.d. Alleras/Theories. Accessed July 18, 2020. https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Alleras/Theories

Bey, Marquis. 2017. “The Trans*-Ness of Blackness, the Blackness of Trans*-Ness.” TSQ, 4(2): 275–95.

Boag, Peter. 2005. “Go West Young Man, Go East Young Woman: Searching for the Trans in Western Gender History.” Western Historical Quarterly, 36(4): 477-497.

Bremer, Signe. 2017. Kroppslinjer: Kön, transsexualism och kropp i berättelser om könskorrigering. Makadam: Göteborg.

Feinberg, Leslie. 1996. Transgender Warriors: Making History from Joan of Arc to Dennis Rodman. Boston: Beacon Press.

Halberstam, J. 1998. Female Masculinity. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press.

Halberstam, J. 2005. In a Queer Time and Place. New York: New York University Press.

Holm, M. 2017. Fleshing out the self: Reimagining intersexed and trans embodied lives through (auto)biographical accounts of the past. PhD thesis, Linköping: Linköping University.

Martin, George RR. 2011a. A Storm of Swords. London: Harper Voyager

Martin, George RR. 2011b. A Feast for Crows. New York: Bentam Books.

Martin, George RR. 2012. A Dance with Dragons. Harper Voyager: London.

Stryker, Susan. 1994. “My words to Victor Frankenstein above the village of Chamounix: Performing transgender rage” GLQ, 1(3): 237-254

Stryker, Susan. 2006. “(De)Subjugated Knowledges: An Introduction to Transgender Studies”, in The Transgender Studies Reader, eds. Susan Stryker & Stephen Whittle, 1-17. New York: Routledge.

Stryker, Susan. 2019. “More Words about "My Words to Victor Frankenstein"” GLQ, 25(1): 39-44.

[lo-lynx]

No cock = no sexuality? Geldings in ASOIAF

TW: Rape, violence, sexism, racism

Spoiler warning: Spoilers for all A Song of Ice and Fire books

“Lord Crow is welcome to steal into my bed any night he dares. Once he's been gelded, keeping those vows will come much easier for him."- Val, A Dance with Dragons, Jon XI

First of all, this is a great quote by Val. Second of all, I’ve noticed that this idea of gelding/castration to reduce/remove male sexuality occurs relatively often in ASOIAF. Before I go any further, I feel like I should clarify that one’s genitalia does not determine one’s gender. A person with a penis is not necessarily a man, and a man does not necessarily have a penis. However, both in our world and in the world of ASOIAF people insist on thinking that and tend to place quite a lot of significance in specifically penises. I’ve written before on this blog about eunuchs, masculinity, gender etc, so in this essay I want to look at that issue from another angle, namely the assumption that no cock = no sexuality.

A while back when I was doing research for this essay about Vary and masculinity, I came upon this quote from the book Eunuchs in Antiquity and Beyond:

Why were men castrated? Several reasons can be advanced: control and domination, punishment, political reasons, need for special qualities or abilities, religious, sexual or erotic reasons, and medical or health reasons. Some ancient writers emphasized that eunuchs were easier to control. (…) In the United States in recent years there have been several movements to castrate, either literally or chemically, individuals involved in sex crimes, especially those involving adults with children. (…) How effective physical castration is in preventing sex crimes is debatable, in spite of public belief to the contrary. (Bullough 2002, 5-7)

Now, I think we can all agree that sex crimes should be punished. But this quote made me think about the practice of castration/gelding as punishment as it occurs in ASOIAF, especially since this quote states that the effectiveness of this is debatable. When doing research for this essay I searched A Search of Ice and Fire for the word “gelded” and got 55 results. Now, loads of those were about gelded horses, but 21 are about gelding people. Of those 21 results I judged 13 to be about how gelding was being used as punishment (mainly for sex crimes), six about how gelding would be used as preventive measures against sex crimes (and two I didn’t know how to categorise). I’ll go into some of these instances here, as I try to explore what gelding as punishment/preventive measure against sex crimes says about the view on masculinity and male sexuality in ASOIAF.

Now, first some background on masculinity and male sexuality. I’ve written EXTENSIVLY before on how from antiquity until modern times for someone to be seen as a “real man” their body and sexual behaviour has had to fit certain criteria. If you want to read more on that, go read my essay on Varys. But briefly: to be a real man according to (Western) society (from Ancient Greece until now) you have to act manly (be strong, in control etc), have a penis, testicles, have penetrative sex (preferably with women), and father children (or at least be capable of fathering children). So, if you’re castrated you can’t be a “real man”? Well, according to Westerosi logic, the answer is pretty much no. (See this and this essay) The consequences of these masculine ideals are quite clear in ASOIAF, as for instance researcher Shiloh Carroll have pointed out:

Martin rejects the idea that chivalry created an ideal society where men fought only to protect their women or in grand, bloodless tournaments, instead creating a society in which chivalry is a thin veneer over a violent, toxic masculinity that victimizes men, women, and children alike. Martin’s Westeros does not reward chivalry, does not even really believe in chivalry as more than a masquerade behind which ‘true’ masculinity- violent, aggressive, and misogynist- hides. (2018, 56)

As Carroll also points out, one of the clearest examples of this is the prevalence of rape in the story. According to her, it seems as if most characters in story believe that most if not all men are capable of rape (ibid, 93). It also seems clear that most of the time, such crimes are not punished. But let’s look at some instances where it’s at least on the table:

A former slave came, to accuse a certain noble of the Zhak. The man had recently taken to wife a freedwoman who had been the noble's bedwarmer before the city fell. The noble had taken her maidenhood, used her for his pleasure, and gotten her with child. Her new husband wanted the noble gelded for the crime of rape, and he wanted a purse of gold as well, to pay him for raising the noble's bastard as his own. Dany granted him the gold, but not the gelding. "When he lay with her, your wife was his property, to do with as he would. By law, there was no rape." Her decision did not please him, she could see, but if she gelded every man who ever forced a bedslave, she would soon rule a city of eunuchs.

(A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys I)

 ‘King Stannis keeps his men well in hand, that's plain. He lets them plunder some, but I've only heard of three wildling women being raped, and the men who did it have all been gelded.’

(Jon in A Storm of Swords, Samwell IV)

 ‘Well now,’ the serjant said, ‘naked steel. Seems to me I smell an outlaw. You know what Lord Tarly does with outlaws?’ He still held the egg he’d taken from the cart. His hand closed, and the yolk oozed through his fingers.

‘I know what Lord Randyll does with outlaws,’ Brienne said. ‘I know what he does with rapers too.’

She had hoped the name might cow them, but the serjant only flicked egg off his fingers and signalled to his men to spread out. Brienne found herself surrounded by steel points. ‘What was it you were saying, wench? What is it Lord Tarly does to…’

‘…rapers,’ a deeper voice finished. ‘He gelds them or sends them to the Wall. Sometimes both. And he cuts fingers off thieves.’

(A Feast for Crows, Brienne III)

Now, the two first people on that list are people we as readers tend to sympathise with and think are good people most of the time. Randyl Tarly much less so. But what these quotes do show are that gelding as punishment for rape is widely accepted, both in Westeros and Essos (even if Dany doesn’t grant that punishment in that specific quote it seems clear that she wanted to and would in other circumstances). It’s also interesting to note how, in the passage about Lord Tarly’s punishment of rape, it is also noted that the punishment for theft is the cutting off of fingers. One can see a parallel here, with in both cases the ostensible guilty body part being cut off (with rape the genitalia, with thievery the fingers). This attitude to punishment can be seen as playing into the so called “disability as punishment trope”. Researcher Mia Harrison describes that trope thusly:

The ‘disability as punishment’ trope is one of the oldest disability tropes, with its roots stretching back to biblical and mythological narratives. The trope is frequently used in classical stories where characters are blinded as direct or implied punishment for wrongdoing such as the biblical Zedekiah and Tobit, Rhoecus and Phineus of Greek mythology, and Peeping Tom in the legend of Lady Godiva. (Harrison 2018, 29)

Now, while one might want to punish rapists, one should remember that it’s not clear that sure castration actually makes people less likely to rape again. So, we’re really just punishing people with a disability, and by doing that essentially saying that a disability is a punishment.

Now, as I mentioned earlier in this essay, there’s also several cases of what I’ve called “preventive gelding”. The most prominent of these are of course the Unsullied, but I want to begin with a quote from Jaime III in A Feast for Crows when he talks with Ser Bonifer Hasty, who have been tasked with holding Harrenhal:

He was sober, just, and dutiful, and his Holy Eighty-Six were as well disciplined as any soldiers in the Seven Kingdoms, and made a lovely sight as they wheeled and pranced their tall grey geldings. Littlefinger had once quipped that Ser Bonifer must have gelded the riders too, so spotless was their repute.

So, here, similarly to the quote from Val that started this essay, a joke is made about gelding men to make them not rape people. The whole premise of the joke that Jaime remembers is that men cannot possible control themselves, and their sexual lusts, if they still have their genitalia. But, as I said, the most prominent example of “preventive gelding” in the books are the Unsullied. Here, I will once again quote Mia Harisson, because while she analyses the show, not the books, her point still stands, and I simply cannot put it better than she does:

The Unsullied are the most normalized example of eunuchs in Game of Thrones. Children are sold from a young age to the Unsullied slavemasters, with males being trained as highly obedient soldiers. Their names are taken from them, instead being replaced with that of vermin such as ‘Red Flea’ and ‘Grey Worm’, and their genitals are removed in the final stages of training. They are described as having ‘absolute obedience, absolute loyalty’ (…) The Unsullied body is systemized into fragments that are categorized as ‘useful’ (the parts of the body can be used to fight) and ‘useless’ (the parts of the body that cannot. The slave master demonstrates the systemization of the Unsullied body by slicing off the nipple of one of his soldiers while explaining that ‘men don’t need nipples’. The Unsullied challenge notions of ‘able-bodied heterosexuality’ by considering the sexual, able body as not simply unnecessary, but an obstacle toward obedience (…) The Unsullied do not embody a masculine identity- they are not considered men at all. This is not to suggest, however, that the Unsullied should be considered positive examples of non-normative identity representation. Instead, they present a clear idea of what should be considered the ‘acceptable’ queer or disabled body: docile, compliant, and useful only in the service of others. (Harrison 2018, 38)

So, the idea of gelding the Unsullied is that they will be obedient, and that their bodies can be utilized in the most effective way. It is also clear in the books that one of the so called “perks” of the Unsullied is that they won’t rape and plunder, for instance:

‘Your Grace,’ said Jorah Mormont, ‘I saw King's Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. Brick they may be, as you say, but if you buy them henceforth the only dogs they'll kill are those you want dead.’ (A Storm of Swords, Daenerys II)

So, soldiers who won’t rape and plunder, sounds great, right? Well, the drawback is of course that the only way characters can see this happening is by pre-emptively gelding them. Now, this is hardly unique to ASOIAF, during antiquity slaves were also castrated because it was believed this made them easier to control (Bullough 2002, 6). During this time eunuchs were also often servants to women at court, perhaps most famously in harems (Llewellyn-Jones 2002, 34). In part this connection between women and eunuchs seems to have been because both women and eunuchs were considered “imperfect creatures and incomplete human specimens” since they lacked testicles (ibid). Both women and eunuchs were also seen as sexually available, due to their lower social standing than men, which was the case in Ancient Greece as well as in “the East” (for a longer discussion about sexuality during antiquity and how it relates to eunuchs, see my essay about Varys). It is important to note here, that the contemporary and Western view of harems as a space where women were locked up is not necessarily accurate to historical sources. As Llewellyn-Jones points out, harems could often just refer to groups of women, not necessarily places, or something that were out of bounds (note the similarity to the word “haram”). Women in these harems could also often have great influence over court life, in many ways similarly to the noblewomen of ASOIAF. But, in the Western orientalist fantasy, the idea of eunuchs guarding rooms filled with women just waiting to have sex with men, seems to have stuck.

I want to briefly touch on another aspect of this, which is the idea of the sexually (non-)threatening man of colour. Now, throughout history, people from outside of ones own ethnic group have generally been seen as threatening (I’m not even gonna provide a source for that). In the contemporary Global North, this figure of the dangerous Other is often seen specifically as the non-western person (Ahmed 2004). Specifically in contemporary US (as well as historical US of course), one of the forms this takes is the racist idea of the dangerous black man. In contemporary America (and across the world), one of the ways this becomes clear is of course in the racist killings of black people (so I hope you all have supported the Black Lives Matter movement in whatever way you can!). Another way is, as black feminist and scholar bell hooks has pointed out, the way black masculinity is portrayed in movies. The good black man, hooks writes, “not only accepts his subordinate status, he testifies on behalf of and exults in white male superiority. (…) [this] character shows no romantic interest in the white female hero. He is merely protecting.” (ibid, 108). Now, I am NOT saying that this the exact same as with the Unsullied. For one, the fictional space of Slaver’s Bay is not the exact same as the real-life United States (even if there are a lot of parallels between Slaver’s Bay and Reconstruction, as for instance Steven Attewell has pointed out) And Dany actively tries to change oppressive power structures. But I find it interesting some of Daenerys’ most loyal fighting forces, who is very clearly Eastern coded (even if they have different ethnicities) are described as completely incapable of being a sexual threat to her. This can be compared to for instance the Dothraki, who are constantly connected to rape and (sexual) violence. As others have noted, the way that the Dothraki are described often invoke Orientalist imagines of the ‘Other’ as sexually deprived, and dangerous (Carroll 2018, 121) While Dany have some loyal Dothraki followers who respect her as a khaleesi, as soon as she interacts with one that is not from her khalasar, she thinks that this person might rape her (i.e. A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys X). Now, one could argue that this doesn’t have to do as much with race/ethnicity as just the fact that most characters in ASOIAF seems to assume that all men are potential rapists. But the contrast between these Eastern men (the Dothraki and the Unsullied), and how they are portrayed, is interesting. The Dothraki are sexual, violent, and a threat to Dany and other women. The Unsullied are not sexual, and while they are violent, they are not a threat specifically to women. They’re just a weapon, controlled by others.

 So, in conclusion, gelding in ASOIAF seemingly takes place as a punishment for rape, and as a way to prevent rape. Both of these practices seem to assume two things; firstly, that being gelded works to prevent rape, and secondly, that this is the only (or at least the most effective) way to control male sexuality. The validity of both of these things can be questioned. For one, I would like to believe that it would be possible for men to not rape people without their genitalia being cut off. But also, genitalia are not necessarily needed for sex or sexual violence. People can get creative. The last point that I want to address here is whether this argument about masculinity and sexuality (and race/ethnicity) is something that GRRM believes, or if it’s just something his characters believes. I honestly don’t know. As Shiloh Carroll has pointed out (2018, 56), GRRM sometimes seemingly makes deliberate points about how medieval society wasn’t just filled with chivalry, but also (sexual) violence. Does that mean he believes that male sexuality is uncontrollable? Probably not. But since he tries to get the point across about the darker side of medieval society, and probably also pulls on historical ideas of geldings and eunuchs, it might come off like that. This is especially unfortunate, in my opinion, when it also plays into racialized tropes about the ethnic Other’s violent sexuality, that must be controlled.

 References

Ahmed, Sara. 2004. “On Collective Feelings, or the Impressions Left by Others”, Theory, Culture and Society, 20(1):25-42.

Attewell, Steven. 2015. “A Laboratory of Politics Part VI”, Tower of the Hand. January 15, 2015. https://towerofthehand.com/blog/2015/02/01-laboratory-of-politics-part-vi/noscript.html

Bullough, Vern L. 2002. “Eunuchs in History and Society”, in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, edited by Tougher, Shaun, 1-17. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer.

Harrison, Mia. 2018. “Power and Punishment in Game of Thrones.” In The Image of Disability: Essays on Media Representation, edited by JL Schatz & Amber E. George, 28-43. McFarland & Company: Jefferson.

hooks, bell. 1996/2009. Reel to Real: Race, Class, and Sex at the Movies. New York: Routledge.

Llewellyn-Jones, Lloyd. 2002. “Eunuchs and the royal harem in Achaemenid Persia (559-331 BC)”, in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, edited by Tougher, Shaun, 19-50. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

Martin, George RR. 2011a. A Storm of Swords 2: Blood and Gold. Harper Voyager: London.

Martin, George RR. 2011b. A Feast for Crows. Bentam Books: New York.

Martin, George RR. 2012. A Dance with Dragons. Harper Voyager: London.

[lo-lynx]

A brief defence of Selyse Baratheon (kinda)

CW: sexism

Spoiler warning: All A Song of Ice and Fire books

Now, I’m the first one to admit that Selyse Baratheon née Florent is an extremely unpleasant, filled with racism and internalised misogyny (see for instance Jon XI in ADWD… or any ADWD chapter she’s in… or any chapter she’s in generally). But nevertheless, I want to offer a brief defence of her, mostly because I’m tired of seeing her joked about in particular ways (both in story and in the fandom), specifically regarding her looks. This essay will most likely be shorter and have slightly less depth than my usual work, but I just wanted to get my thoughts about this out there.

When we’re first presented to Selyse in the prologue of A Clash with Kings she’s described thusly:

Lady Selyse was as tall as her husband, thin of body and thin of face, with prominent ears, a sharp nose, and the faintest hint of a mustache on her upper lip. She plucked it daily and cursed it regularly, yet it never failed to return. Her eyes were pale, her mouth stern, her voice a whip.

So, the reader immediately gets a description of her that’s not exactly flattering. In Storm of Swords we get a similar description from Davos’ fifth chapter:

Queen Selyse, a pinched thin hard woman with large ears and a hairy upper lip.

By A Dance with Dragons this has evolved to rumours of her having “a great dark beard” according Val (in Jon XI). Jon assures her that it’s only a mustache, but later Val counters:

You lied about the beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs.

So, it seems pretty established that most characters think Selyse is ugly and notice this mustache of hers. In the Clash prologue that I started quoting, we also get one of the many mentions of how bad Stannis’ and Selyse’s marriage is:

Stannis had always been uncomfortable around women, even his own wife. When he had gone to King's Landing to sit on Robert's council, he had left Selyse on Dragonstone with their daughter. His letters had been few, his visits fewer; he did his duty in the marriage bed once or twice a year, but took no joy in it, and the sons he had once hoped for had never come.

So, Selyse’s marriage isn’t great, and she hasn’t been able to give her husband the sons he had wished for. Later, in Tyrion III, Littlefinger talks of Stannis’ and Selyse’s marriage like this:

Lord Stannis has spent most of his marriage apart from his wife. Not that I fault him, I'd do the same were I married to Lady Selyse.

So, further confirmation of the unhappy marriage, and further insulting of Selyse (probably of her looks, though it’s not made entirely clear). Then in ASOS Davos IV:

The throne is mine, as Robert's heir. That is law. After me, it must pass to my daughter, unless Selyse should finally give me a son.

My point with all of these quotes is basically to prove two things:

1)    Selyse is continually described as ugly, with prominent ears and a mustache.

2)    It’s continually pointed out how she hasn’t been able to give Stannis the sons he wants (one could of course argue that this is hardly just her fault…)

This, I argue, essentially makes her a failure as a woman in Westeros (and to a certain degree in our world).

As I’ve written on numerous occasions before, the gender norms of Westeros are very restrictive, and those who break them are generally punished. Based on how much different characters comment on Selyse’s, and other character’s, looks, beauty ideals seem to be part of those gender norms. We can see that Selyse’s body, particularly her ears and mustache, makes her ugly in many people’s eyes. Her body and looks doesn’t confirm to the norm, even less so the ideal. Researcher Denise Malmberg describes how the normative body in contemporary Western society is defined what it is not, for instance too fat, too tall, too short etc. I’m pretty sure we could add hairy and having prominent ears to the list of things an attractive body should not have. As Malmberg points out, women who are not seen as attractive, who aren’t sexualised, is in some ways seen as less of a woman. They’re not womanly, not feminine, not a proper lady. I also find it interesting that Selyse’s mustache in particular is pointed out so often. To me, it immediately brings associations of so called “bearded ladies” who often figured in the “freak-shows” of the 19th century and have remained in the public imagination ever since. As for instance researcher Clare Sears have pointed out, such shows often included people who in some ways broke gendered (and racialised) norms of embodiment, and in that way policed the borders of gender norms (2008). By showing for instance bearded ladies as “freaks” it became apparent to the public that having such a body was unacceptable. I’m not saying that GRRM purposely drew on such history when describing Selyse’s mustache, but I think the description of her looks have a similar effect; that is to show what is unnormal.

 When it comes having children, loads of feminists and feminist researcher have written about motherhood’s significance for womanhood, for instance this is something Denise Malmberg mentions as well. Malmberg writes that a “normal” woman is expected to become a mother, and a woman who doesn’t have children is therefore exempt from true womanhood (this is also something I explore in this essay about disability and gender in ASOIAF). Authors such as Jack/Judith Halberstam, Sara Ahmed, Anna Siverskog etc. have all also written about how having children are expected by the heterosexual life script that we’re all expected to follow (2005, 5; 2006, 85; 2016, 14). I did a quick search for scientific articles about childfree women and got an overwhelming amount of results, and to write a complete overview of the topic would take ages. But, for instance, a 2011 article about childfree women in Australia found that childless women were seen as “unnatural” and unwomanly” (Rich, Taket, Graham, Shelley 2011). So, I think that we can conclude, that in general in society, women are expected to have kids. To not have kids is unnatural and unwomanly. The fact then, that Selyse is seen as not capable of giving Stannis a son, contributes to her being a bit of a “failed” woman in the eyes of Westeros.

So, in conclusion, the way Selyse is described in story makes it clear that she fails to live up to the norms and ideals of womanhood. For that I feel sorry for her. That’s it, that’s the defence. As I pointed out in the beginning of this essay, that doesn’t make her less of a horrible person with her racism against Free Folk, and internalised misogyny. That part of her personality should be critiqued, and harshly so. However, her looks are not part of that. It should be possible to criticise her without making fun of her mustache or ears. Such jokes only contribute to already existing sexist views of how people of different genders should act and look.

 References

Ahmed, Sara. 2006. Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others. Duke University Press: Durham

Halberstam, Judith. 2005. In a Queer Time and Place. New York: New York University Press.

Malmberg, Denise. 2012. “’To Be Cocky Is to Challenge the Norms’: The Impact of Bodynormativity on Bodily and Sexual Attraction in Relation to Being a Cripple.” lambda Nordica, 17:1-2, 194-216.

Martin, George RR. 2011. A Clash of Kings. Harper Voyager: London.

Martin, George RR. 2011. A Storm of Swords. Harper Voyager: London.

Martin, George RR. 2012. A Dance with Dragons. Harper Voyager: London.

Rich, Stephanie., Taket, Anne., Graham, Melissa. & Julia Shelley. 2011. “‘Unnatural’, ‘Unwomanly’, ‘Uncreditable’ and ‘Undervalued’: The Significance of Being a Childless Woman in Australian Society”. Gend. Issues, (2011)28:226–247.

Sears, Clare. 2008. “Electric Brilliancy: Cross-Dressing Law and Freak Show Displays in Nineteenth-Century San Francisco”, WSQ: Women's Studies Quarterly, 36: 3-4, 170-187.

Siverskog, Anna. 2016. Queera livslopp. Att leva och åldras som lhbtq-person I en heteronormativ värld. Linköping: Linköpings universitet.

[lo-lynx]

Brienne and me- breaking gender norms in Westeros and in our own world

CW: sexism, homophobia, transphobia, racism (briefly)

”I am the only one the gods let him keep. The freakish one, not fit to be a son or a daughter.” (Martin 2011, 672). This quote from Brienne’s sixth chapter in A Feast for Crows is probably one of the most heart-breaking quotes from the whole series, in my opinion. It’s also one that hits a bit too close to home for me, as a trans/genderqueer person. In the essay I want to (attempt to) explain why I can relate so much to Brienne, as well as put this in the perspective of some gender theory. I want to begin with an attempt at a theoretical understanding of what it feels like being out of place, of behaving contrary to norms, and having the world react to that. Then I’ll return to Brienne’s experiences, and my own.

In her book Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, objects, others Sara Ahmed writes about how bodies inhabit space in different ways (2006). She notes that depending on what path, or lines, we follow through life, different things becomes reachable for us (ibid, 14). She writes that “bodies take shape through tending toward objects that are reachable, that are available within the bodily horizon.” (ibid, 2). She describes how when we are in line, so to say, we follow the direction that others have followed before us, and this allows our bodies to extend into spaces that are already used to their form (ibid, 15). Ahmed mainly explores this in relation to gender, sexuality, and race/whiteness. I’ll return to lines about gender and sexuality later, but for now I want to focus on whiteness, because that’s a clear example of Ahmed’s writing on bodies and space. She argues, that in a world that is made white, the body that is comfortable and at home in that world is the body which can inhabit whiteness (ibid, 109). She continues this line of thought by writing about stopping devices, things that stops one’s movement, that questions one’s belonging to a certain place. This, for instance, often happen with black bodies in white spaces (ibid, 139). She also makes a note of how intersectionality impacts one’s position in different spaces:

There are ‘points’ in such intersections, as the ‘points’ where lines meet. A body is such a meeting point. To follow one line (say whiteness) will not necessarily get you too many points if one does not or cannot follow others. How one moves along institutional lines is affected by the other lines that one follows. (ibid, 136)

What Ahmed means here, is that one’s ability to be “in line” depends on several factors. She here connects the following of differing lines that she has previously mentioned, for instance regarding gender and sexuality. This, I take to mean that you could apply her reasoning about following lines of whiteness to following gender lines as well for instance. This becomes interesting in relation to what she writes about disorientation:

Disorientation can be a bodily feeling of losing one’s place, and an effect of the loss of a place; it can be a violent feeling, and a feeling that is affected by violence, or shaped by violence directed toward the body. (ibid, 160)

This, I think, allows us to think of disorientation in relation to several different types of institutional lines, such as gender, race, sexuality, and class.

In another text, An Affinity of Hammers, Ahmed continues to write about the experience of being out of line, of being blocked (2016).

We learn about worlds when they do not accommodate us. (…) Another way of saying this: when we are not at home, when we are asked where we are from or who we are, or even what we are, we experience a chip, chip, chip, a hammering away at our being. (Ahmed 2016, 22)

She uses this idea of hammering to analyse different anti-trans (yet self-proclaimed feminist) texts, and writes:

Some of the hammering might seem on the surface quite mild because it appears as an instance: a joke here, a joke there. And jokiness allows a constant trivializing: as if by joking someone is suspending judgment on what is being said. (…) Many of these instances might be justified as banter or humorous (the kind of violent humor that feminists should be familiar with because feminists are often at the receiving end). So much of this material makes trans women in particular the butt of a joke. (ibid, 28)

Just as many trans people (particularly trans women) are the butt of a joke, much anti-trans writing can be seen as a “rebuttal system” according Ahmed. She writes:

A rebuttal is a form of evidence that is presented to contradict or nullify other evidence that has been presented by an adverse party. A rebuttal is a form of evidence that is directed against evidence that has already been presented. What if you are required to provide evidence of your own existence? When an existence is understood as needing evidence, then a rebuttal is directed not only against evidence but against an existence. An existence can be nullified by the requirement that an existence be evidenced. (ibid, 29)

Essentially, what Ahmed is saying, is that the constant jokes and questioning of trans people becomes a constant hammering against our existence. Having to constantly prove that you exist hammers away at your very being. Finally, Ahmed writes about how norms and barriers are experienced differently for different people:

We notice norms as palpable things when they block rather than enable an entry. If you do not conform to an idea of woman—of who she is, how she comes to be, how she appears—then you become a diversity worker in both senses. For to exist as a woman would require chipping away at the walls that demarcate who resides there, who belongs there. And this is what diversity workers come up against: walls. An institutional wall is not something that we can simply point to: there it is, look! An institutional wall is not an actual wall that exists in front of everyone. It is a wall that comes up because of who you are or what you are trying to do. Walls that are experienced as hard and tangible by some do not even exist for others. And this is how hammering, however exhausting, can become a tool. Remember, it is through hammering that these walls become tangible. We can direct our attention toward those institutions that chip away us. We chip away at those walls, those physical or social barriers that stop us from residing somewhere, from being somewhere. We chip away at those walls by trying to exist or trying to transform an existence. (ibid, 32)

(I felt like I had to end this section on a bit of a positive note!) (Also, can you tell that I REALLY like the way Ahmed writes by the number of quotes I’m including?)

 Now that we’ve discussed how bodies are stopped, I want to return to institutionalised lines regarding gender, and how diverging from them is perceived by the world. In her book Kroppslinjer: Kön, transsexualism och kropp i berättelser om könskorrigering (”Bodylines: gender, transsexualism and embodiment in narratives about gendercorrection”), Signe Bremer writes about how lines (in the way Sara Ahmed conceptualises them) upholds, conditions, and produces embodied subjects and the world they inhabit (2017, 214). Bodies and subjects are only seen as coherent if they follow these lines. For instance, a person’s bodily materiality, legal sex, gender identity, gendered expression, sexual desire, ways of reproduction, parental status, kinship, etc are expected to follow the same straight line through life. In this way, Bremer writes, the way Ahmed describes lines is very similar to how another feminist theorist, Judith Butler, describes norms; norms control what is seen as a liveable life and possible personhood. Bremer also writes about the act of passing for a trans person. Drawing inspiration from Ahmed’s writing about which bodies get to comfortable inhabit certain spaces, Bremer describes the act of passing as just that, having one’s body become invisible when inhabiting a space, and thus fitting comfortably (ibid, 134). Bremer furthermore writes about interpellation:

What is meant with interpellation, in the way that Judith Butler conceives of it, is the performative acts of speech through which bodies, by the act of being named, step into the sphere of coherence, and are constituted as possible subjects and ‘real’ people. (ibid, 196) (my translation)

What is meant here, is that when someone is named as something (for instance as a woman), that’s when the person is understood as that thing. She also notes, however, that interpellation does not require the consent of the individual, interpellation can also be forced upon them. This is because, for a body to be interpaled it must follow the lines of society which makes it possible for the body to be recognised as a human. As Bremer notes, this can often result in trans people being interpaled as a wrong gender.

So, now I’ll return to Brienne. I would argue that by not following expected lines through life, she is in a way constantly uncomfortable. She simply does not fit in. One clear example of this is when Brienne contemplates seeking Sansa Stark in the free cities:

Brienne did not want to chase the girl across the narrow sea, where even the language would be strange to her. I will be even more a freak there, grunting and gesturing to make myself understood. They will laugh at me, as they did at Highgarden. A blush stole up her cheeks as she remembered.

Brienne III A Feast for Crows (Martin 2011, 299).

She then goes on to describe her experience of having “suitors” court her as part of a bet, and the humiliation when she realised why they did it. But, oh, if the feeling of being awkward and being laughed at isn’t familiar…

I still remember the gym classes in elementary schools where we were supposed to practice dancing. How awkward I felt. How some of the crueller boys would look on me with disgust when we got pared up and tried to switch partners. How I ended up pretending to be sick to get out of those classes.

And then there’s the constant stream of “jokes” laid at Brienne…

“I thought Brienne the Beauty had no use for men.”

- Ser Hyle Hunt, Brienne III A Feast for Crows (Martin 2011, 292)

That one Facebook comment on my photo that said: “lol so gay”.

… and the mocking of her very existence:

“it is said that your father is a good man. If so, I pity him. Some men are blessed with sons, some with daughters. No man deserves to be cursed with such as you.”

- Lord Randyll Tarly, Brienne V A Feast for Crows (Martin 2011, 520)

That other Facebook comment which replied: “You’re not gay, you’re a garbage dump filled with genetic waste.”

The words thrown at her to hurt her, to belittle her, said by those who cannot understand who or what she is:

“’Whore!’ he boomed ‘Freak! Bitch!’”

- Rorge, Brianne VII A Feast for Crows (Martin 2011, 795)

That one time someone commented on a post I made about LGBTQ rights, saying that I was just a confused gender activist who supported paedophilia. That other time when a student I was teaching said that being LGBTQ was just wrong. All those times students have joked that if someone can identify as non-binary, then they can identify as an attack helicopter.

And then there’s the constant feeling of not being enough…

“’A daughter’ Brienne’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He deserves that. A daughter who could sing to him and grace his hall and bear him grandsons. He deserves a son too, a strong and gallant son to bring honor to his name. (…) I am the only child the gods let him keep. The freakish one, not fit to be a son or a daughter.’”

Brienne VI A Feast for Crows, (Martin, 672)

That time I had finally gathered up my courage to tell my mum. And her first question was if I was sure, maybe I just felt restricted by gender norms? Maybe I just didn’t like girly things? Maybe I still was her daughter? And I felt a world of disappointment crash down on me. Even after, when she understood, when she tried her best to be accepting. Even then, the fear of being a disappointment. Even then, fearing that I was disappointing her simply by not being her daughter anymore.

Having to argue for your existence. That you exist even if you do not fit the world’s expectations of you. Having to experience that continuous hammering. Not being intelligible in the eyes of society because you are not a son nor a daughter, not a knight nor a lady. Not following the expected path through life. Constantly being stopped, questioned; what are you doing here?

“’A war host is no place for a maiden. If you have any regard for your virtue or the honor of your house, you will take off that mail, return home, and beg your father to find a husband for you.’”

- Lord Randyll Tarly, Brienne III A Feast for Crows (Martin 2011, 301)

The amount of people who have said that people like I don’t exist. We’re just confused. There only exist two sexes, two genders, that’s just biology.

People trying to force you do fit into the straight line. Be straight. Be a lady. Become a wife, a mother. Trying to make you into what you’re not, with words, with actions. Interpellation forcing you into what you’re not; daughter, maiden, lady.  When they still can’t understand you, then labelling you with other words; freak, garbage, confused.

Not being able to be comfortable. So rarely being able to relax. Never really being in a space in which your body can just extend itself unchallenged. Keeping running up against walls. Being hyperaware of how other people perceive you and your body. Seeing their disgusted looks. Wanting to hide from it all. Trying to make your body take up less space, to make it less of a target of their violent words. Still getting hurt, still feeling like you don’t fit, still feeling disorientated and out of place. Realising that some people will never understand you. Realising that to so many people, you and your life will always be strange. Realising that in the eyes of society, your life is simply seen as unliveable.

Realising all of that and trying to go on anyway. To turn the hammering the world has given you into a tool. To make it your strength. To remember that “men will always underestimate you” and make use of it (from Brienne II A Feast for Crows. Martin 2011, 203).

 In this essay I have tried to combine theory and personal experience in a way that I very seldom have before. I hope it ended up making sense. It was my way of explaining why I love Brienne of Tarth so much, and why her story hurts so much. I want it to be clear that what Brienne goes through is much worse than what I’ve had to suffer. In the end my family is supportive even if they mess up. I have friends who backs me up when I have a rough time with the transphobia of the world. But I can very much relate to Brienne’s feeling of being out of place, of not being comfortable, of feeling like a freak sometimes. And I greatly admire her ability to carry on through it all. To be able to turn the hammering into a hammer, into a tool, into a way forward.

 References

Ahmed, Sara. 2006. Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others. Duke University Press: Durham

Ahmed, Sara. 2016. “An Affinity for Hammers”, TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly, 3:1-2, 22-34.

Bremer, Signe. 2017. Kroppslinjer: Kön, transsexualism och kropp i berättelser om könskorrigering. Makadam: Göteborg.

Martin, George RR. 2011. A Feast for Crows. New York: Bentam Books.

[lo-lynx]

Dangerous women in His Dark Materials

CW: Sexism, racism

Spoiler warning: spoilers for all of the His Dark Materials book series. Extremely tiny spoiler for The Secret Commonwealth.

In the opening pages of Northern Lights, we meet our heroine Lyra Silvertongue as she sneaks through the collage where she has grown up, to get access to a forbidden room. Her daemon Pan chides her to behave herself, which she, of course, does not listen to; as the lovely hosts of the podcast Girls Gone Canon are fond of saying when anyone says “Lyra, no”, her immediate response is “LYRA YES” (look, I tried to find a specific episode where they say this so I could reference that, but even though I love their podcast I didn’t want to relisten to hours of the podcast just to find that). In many ways, Lyra is perhaps the very definition of the word “willful”. Another early example that the reader gets of her willfulness is in the second chapter of Northern Lights when Lyra’s relationship to the scholars of Jordan Collage is described: “(…) they were men who had been around her all her life, taught her, chastised her, given her little presents, chased her away from the fruit trees in the Garden (…)” (Pullman 2011a, 19). That last part about chasing her away from the fruit trees in the Garden is particularly interesting since it clearly connects Lyra to Eve and the Garden of Even. Later in the story, we find out that Lyra is prophesised to play a sort of Eve 2.0 role, something the Magisterium dreads (Pullman 2011c, 68). I’ve previously written about the power relations in His Dark Materials and their connection to gender and sexuality here. In this essay I want to continue on a similar track, by analysing femininity and female sexuality specifically, and the Magisterium’s view on them.

But before we get into all of that, I want to return to our dear Lyra. When the reader is first introduced to her, she’s disobeying rules, and this is, of course, a theme that continues through the series. Throughout the books, she is constantly doing things she’s not supposed to do, no matter what the adults or institutions around her say. She is at different times described as “half-wild, half-civilised”, “fierce and stubborn”, and having “some nerve” (Pullman 2011a, 19 & 120; Pullman 2011b, 202). Now, this portrayal of a half-wild young girl sounds very similar to the idea of the “willful girl” that Sara Ahmed describes (2017). Ahmed writes that wilful girls show up in all sort of fiction, and one specific example that she gives is the Grimm story called The Willful Child. Ahmed quotes the story in her text, and since I think it is very illustrative of the point both she and I try to make I will do so as well:

Once upon a time there was a child who was willful, and would not do as her mother wished. For this reason God had no pleasure in her, and let her become ill, and no doctor could do her any good, and in a short time she lay on her death-bed. When she had been lowered into her grave, and the earth was spread over her, all at once her arm came out again, and stretched upwards, and when they had put it in and spread fresh earth over, it was all to no purpose, for the arm always came out again. Then the mother herself was obligated to go to the grave, and strike the arm with a rod, and when she had done that, it was drawn in, and then at last the child had rest beneath the ground. (Grimm & Grimm 1884, 125. Quoted in Ahmed 2017, 66)

As Ahmed points out, it is only when the willful child gives up her own will that she can become at peace. Furthermore, Ahmed writes:

Note that the rod, as that which embodies the will of the parent, of the sovereign, is not deemed willful. The rod becomes the means to eliminate willfulness from the child. One form of will judges the other wills as willful wills. One form of will assumes the right to eliminate the others. (Ahmed 2017, 67)

Now, if this doesn’t describe Lyra’s story, I don’t know what does. Ahmed also notes that willfulness is generally a trait which is assigned to girls, while boys are described as “strong-willed” instead, a more positive trait (ibid, 68). This is because girls are generally not supposed to have wills of their own. However, it’s not just girls who are not supposed to have wills of their own, of course. Ahmed also notes that a similar framing was used to describe enslaved and colonised people, who were often positioned as children, and was supposed to obey their master (ibid, 80). Continuing with the theme of the strong arm who breaks expectations, Ahmed references the famous speech Ain’t I a Woman by Sojourner Truth (ibid, 87). For those who don’t know, Sojourner Truth was a former enslaved black woman and abolitionist who in 1851 held a speech at a women’s convention in Ohio (there exist several performances of this speech that you can find online, I would especially recommend this one by Kerry Washington and this one by Alfre Woodard). There she criticised those who said that women should not have rights because they were the so-called weaker sex. It is said that during her speech, she bared her right arm to show her muscles and pointed out that as a formerly enslaved person she was hardly weak. I’ll return to this speech later, but here I’ll just reiterate the point that Ahmed makes: “The arms of the slave belonged to the master, as did the slaves, as the ones who were not supposed to have a will of their own.” (ibid, 87). This, I think, is a point that becomes clear throughout the His Dark Materials. The powerful claim the right to override the will of the marginalised, be it women, people of colour, or other groups. In previous essays, I have written about how this becomes clear with the illusions to eugenics, etc in the series, so I will leave that here for now. But it is important to remember how race and class interact with gender, and I think that if Lyra didn’t have white privilege and class privilege, she would have a much harder time getting away with being so willful.

Now, Ahmed notes in her text, that all of these stories in literature about willful girls really go back to the “first” willful woman, Eve (Ahmed 2017, 70). These other stories:

(…) becomes a thread in the weave of the stories of willful: returning us to Genesis, to the story of the beginning, to Eve’s willful wantonness as behind the fall from Grace. The wilfulness of women relates here not only to disobedience but to desire: the strength of her desire becoming a weakness of her will. (ibid)

Here we see another twist of the willful woman; the woman whose desires overpower her self-control. Having returned to Eve, which I previously noted is deeply connected to Lyra since she’s considered an Eve 2.0 of sorts, it feels necessary to look at how the Magisterium of Lyra’s world sees Eve. The Church in Lyra’s world (in a parallel to our own) teaches that when Adam and Eve ate of the fruit of knowledge in the garden of Eden, their daemons settled, and they start experiencing shame over their bodies (Pullman 2011a, 370). That is of course also the moment sin comes into the world, and the first humans are cast out of the Garden. I’ve previously written about how this has led to the Church wanting to control sexuality and sin (both in our world and Lyra’s world). If possible, they would eradicate sin from the world altogether. As Mrs. Coulter puts it in The Amber Spyglass: “If they could, they’d go back to the garden of Eden and kill Eve before she was tempted.” (Pullman 2011c, 205). The church here puts the blame for humanity’s sinfulness on the first woman, and much like in our world, I would argue that this has been transferred upon women as a whole. As for instance, Yolanda Betata Martín has written, in the middle ages, the church would generally describe female sexuality as particularly sinful, if not outright demonic (for instance by linking it to witchcraft). She writes:

First, the sexuality is perceived as an activity linked exclusively to reproduction and no to sexual pleasure. Second, female sexuality is projected symbolically as a phenomenon endowed with negative connotations and even destructive defined in terms of greed, insatiability and animality. Both beliefs are based more immediate ideological patristic discourse, i.e., in a Discourse of biblical inspiration that projects an image of women deeply misogynist based on the biblical figure of Eve and her role in the Edenic fall. (…) The Discourse gives patristic principles of rationality, morality and intellectuality to men so that women are defined, following the principle of otherness, as irrational, immoral and visceral. This view of feminine nature, supported ideologically on the supposed natural inferiority of women under the Edenic fall, is radicalized throughout the Middle Ages and especially from the thirteenth century. (ibid, 48)

Women are, therefore, simultaneously seen as potentially dangerous and inferior. Sounds familiar? This, I would argue, is not just how Lyra, but perhaps, even more, her mother Mrs. Coulter, is seen by the Magisterium in His Dark Materials.

Now, I’ve pointed out how Lyra most of the time outright goes against the wishes of the adults around her (with some notable exceptions of course, she is Lyra Silvertongue after all, and can be really sneaky). Mrs. Coulter, on the other hand, usually plays into the perception people have of her. In a world where she can only hold a limited amount of official power (she can’t become a priest in the church, and rise in the ranks in that way, for instance), she has been forced to rely on other means (Pullman 2011a, 372). In this patriarchal world it is quite clear that women are generally devalued, I mean, just look at the disdainful way Lyra describes female scholars at the beginning of Northern Lights (ibid, 71). Lyra is however transfixed by Mrs. Coulter’s charms, and to the reader who already knows how she kidnaps children, it is clear that these charms are dangerous too. But to Lyra, and quite a few other people in the story, they are not obviously sinister. Later, in The Amber Spyglass, Mrs. Coulter uses these same charms to trick Metatron (Pullman 2011c, 405). She seduces him, while simultaneously portraying herself as a weak woman. As a reader, you definitely realise by this point, that the Magisterium is right in fearing both Lyra and Mrs. Coulter. To quote Sojourner Truth (see, I said we’d return to her!):

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them. (Truth 1851. Quoted in Women’s Rights National History Park n.d.)

Yes, these women will turn the world right-side-up again. They’ll create a world (more) free from religious control, and with more equality.

I want to note, that when Lyra sees the female scholar Dame Hannah Relf again, at the end of The Amber Spyglass, she thinks that Dame Hannah is much more clever, interesting, and kind than she thought before (Pullman 2011c, 515). Perhaps Lyra has just grown up, perhaps she has learned to value women more, I’m not sure. However, Lyra definitely has changed. Later in the same chapter, she is described as defiant but lost by Dame Hannah. I don’t quite have the space to go into Lyra’s changing character later in her life, mainly in The Secret Commonwealth, here but perhaps that’ll be a separate essay one day. However, I think it’s quite clear that Lyra has lost some of her wilfulness and daring (not all of it though). And, if she is to save the world again, then she must regain that. Perhaps that is part of Pullman’s message to his readers; be critical of authorities, be brave, be willful.

As we’ve seen throughout this essay, the patriarchal society in Lyra’s world is fearful of willful girls and women. This fear goes all the way back to their hatred and fear of Eve, and their resentment of her being responsible for humanity’s expulsion from the garden of Eden. As Sojourner Truth puts it, they’ve seen that women are strong enough to turn the world upside down. Therefore women, and their sexuality, must be controlled. It must be demonised, and women must be seen as inferior as to not get too much power. In a way, the Church’s fear is proven correct by the story; the women of the story are able to change the world again. This time to turn it right-side-up.

References

Ahmed, Sara. 2017. Living a Feminist Life. Durham: Durham University Press.

Beteta Martín, Yolanda. 2013. “THE SERVANTS OF THE DEVIL. THE DEMONIZATION OF FEMALE SEXUALITY IN THE MEDIEVAL PATRISTIC DISCOURSE.” Journal of Research in Gender Studies Volume, 3:2, 2013, 48–66.

Pullman, Philip. 2011a. Northern Lights. London: Scholastic.

Pullman, Philip. 2011b. The Subtle Knife. London: Scholastic.

Pullman, Philip. 2011c. The Amber Spyglass. London: Scholastic

Women’s Rights National History Park. n.d. “Sojourner Truth: Ain't I A Woman?” National Park Service. Accessed March 22, 2020. https://www.nps.gov/articles/sojourner-truth.htm

[lo-lynx]

The Nordic influences in His Dark Materials

TW: Eugenics, racism, sexism

Spoiler warning: The whole His Dark Materials book series (but mainly The Golden Compass/Nothern Lights), minor spoiler for La Belle Sauvage, very minor spoiler for His Dark Materials the tv-show.

When one of my favourite podcasts Girls Gone Canon announced that they were going to start covering the His Dark Materials novels in preparation of the launch of the TV-show this fall, I got very excited. I had read the first novel, The Golden Compass/Northern Lights, as a child but remembered very little so I decided to re-read the entire series. Reading the novels now, as a nerd in my twenties that’s working on getting a master’s degree in gender studies, and is born and raised in Sweden, I quite quickly got very interested in some aspects of the series’ worldbuilding. Namely, the way “The North” and its people are portrayed. Phillip Pullman’s story takes place in several different worlds, but we start out in what I’ll call “Lyra’s world”, a world similar to ours, but also quite different. Over the course of the first novel our heroine Lyra, travels with a group of gyptians (a people that seems to be inspired of our world’s Roma people) to “The North” to recover children that a corrupt religious government agency has kidnapped. Now, exactly what counts as “The North” is slightly unclear, but the group’s first stop is the town of Trollesund in Lapland. In our world both Trollesund and Lapland exists, but Trollesund is most definitely not in Lapland. The northern most states/regions in both Sweden and Finland are called Lapland.  On the first map bellow Trollesund is marked out, and on the other two the states/regions of Lapland in Sweden and Finland are marked.

Regardless of exactly where Trollesund is, I’ve always assumed it to be in a Swedish speaking area based on the names given to characters and places in the novel. These are for example Martin Lanselius and Einarsson’s Bar (Pullman 2007, 179). These names definitely sound more Swedish than Finnish. Lanselius could possibly be Norwegian as well, but the Norwegian version of Einarsson should be Einarsen (I have no specific source for this… but Swedish last names are often constructed as [name]sson, and Norwegian ones as [name]sen.). In the television adaption of His Dark Materials Trollesund seems to be in Norway however (Cremona 2018). Now, even if I’ve tried to figure it out, it remains unclear exactly where the Lapland of Lyra’s world is, but my guess is that it’s somewhere close to the Laplands of our world. It should be pointed out that in Pullman’s other novel that takes place in the same universe, La Belle Sauvage, a character visits the town of Uppsala (also a real town), which is stated to be in Sweden (Pullman 2017, 45). So, the state of Sweden seems to exist, and be separate from the state of Lapland. Now, why do I care about this so much? Am I just curious because this is “my neck of the woods”? Well, partly yes. But I also find it very interesting that Pullman has decided to create a separate state of Lapland and have several important parts of the plot take place there.

In our world, the word/name Lapland (or Lappland in Swedish) means l*p land/country. What does l*p mean you might ask? Well, it is a derogatory term for the Sami people, a people indigenous to North Norway/Sweden/Finland/Russia. Their own name for this land is Sápmi. The Sami people have lived in this area for several thousands of years and have traditionally (and still today) used that area for reindeer husbandry, hunting, and fishing (Samer, n.d. a). For a long time, they have been a nomadic people, which has been exploited to claim that they have no claim over the land, even though they have dwelt there. To write an exhaustive account of the exploitation of Sami people is beyond the capabilities of this essay, but I recommend the site www.samer.se which is a site run by Sametinget (the parliament representing the Sami people in Sweden, that also functions as a state agency), which can be translated into English. However, it should be noted that this exploitation has been sanctioned by the Swedish state pretty much since the time of the unification of Sweden in the 16th century (Samer, n.d b). At the same time the missionary work of the Swedish church started in the area and by the 17th century Sami people were forced to attend church (Samer, n.d. c). By the end of the 19th century racist ideas of eugenics/racial biology started gaining traction in Sweden, which also impacted Sami people:

It began being claimed that the Sami were born with certain “race characteristics” that made them inferior to the rest of the population. Therefore, they could not live as “civilized” people in real houses. If they did, they would become “lazy” and start neglecting their reindeer. That would result in all Sami people having to become beggars because they did not have any skills besides reindeer husbandry. The [Swedish parliament] decided in 1928 that the Sami who were not reindeer herders would not have any Sami rights either. For example, they were given no special right to hunt and fish in the areas where their ancestors had lived. In this way, the state drew a sharp boundary between the Sami living on reindeer husbandry and those who support themselves in other ways. The Sami schooling was also affected by racism. A law about a special nomad school came in 1913 which stated that teachers would wander around the mountainous regions in the summer. There, the youngest schoolchildren would be taught in the family’s cot for a few weeks each year during the first three school years. The rest of the school time consisted of winter courses in regular schools for three months a year for three years. The teaching would only cover a few subjects and it had to be at such a low level that the children were not “civilized”. Children of nomadic Sami were not allowed to attend public primary schools. 

[my translation] (Samer n.d. d)

This eugenics movement did, however, not just result in substandard schooling and rights in general. I have previously written about the ideas of eugenics, as well as the way the Swedish state sanctioned them, but some aspects of it is specifically relevant to highlight in relation to the Sami people. In 1922 The State’s Race Biological institute (Statens rasbiologiska institut) was created in Uppsala in Sweden, by the “scientist” Herman Lundborg (Hagerman 2016, 961). He wished to research the Swedish race, and the mixing of races in Sweden. This was done in several ways, both by looking at records of marriages and birth (often supplied by church officials who had access to so called “church books” that recorded this), and physical examinations of people. He, and other “scientists”, travelled around Sweden to examine the Sami people and other groups that were considered inferior (such as Finns, Roma people, Jews, disabled people etc). The physical examination of Sami people often happened in collaboration with local churches or schools (Hagerman 2016, 984). Another part of the eugenics movement in Sweden that is worth mentioning here is the forced sterilisations that took place during this time.  As Hübinette and Lundström writes:

(…) a sterilisation law to hinder the reproduction of the lower classes, and simultaneously to increase the birth rate among the ‘better stock’ (…) The sterilisation program was in effect between 1934 and 1975, and turned out to be one of the most effective in the democratic world, resulting in the sterilisation of over 60,000 people. Moreover, it was both racialised, gendered, classed and heteronormative, as national minorities like the Travellers and the Roma were proportionally more targeted than majority Swedes, and as 90 percent were women, mostly belonging to the lower- and working-classes, and many deemed to be sexual transgressors of the patriarchal order of the day. (Hübinette & Lundström 2014, 428)

So, in conclusion, these eugenic practices had profound consequences for several groups of marginalised people in Sweden during this time. These “scientific” practices were state sanctioned and supported by officials from The Swedish Church.

Now, lets get back to His Dark Materials and Lyra’s world. I want to start by pointing out some more “obvious” parallels between people and custom’s in Lyra’s world and the Sami people and culture, and then move on to some more theme-based comparisons. Firstly, if one compares a map of Sápmi with the map of the Witches’ land in Lyra’s world, there are striking similarities:

(Nordiska museet n.d.)

(His Dark Materials Wiki n.d.)

So, geographically there seems to be similarities between the Witches’ lands and Sápmi. But it’s not exactly the same, just as the Witches obviously aren’t exactly Sami people. However, they do also seem to have partly the same religion. The Witches (at least Serafina Pekkala’s clan) have a death goddess that they call Yambe-Akka (Pullman 2007, 305). This figure also exists in Sami religion (Oxford Reference n.d.). Her name can also be spelled Jábbmeáhkko (Samer n.d. e). Furthermore, the Witches in general seem to be very close to nature, and not as focused on material wealth etc as other humans (Pullman 2007, 299). This seems quite similar to a sort of stereotypical view of Sami people and indigenous people in general. On multiple occasions the books also describe how the Witches live close to the veil between worlds and can hear the undead whispers from beyond it (ibid, 174). This seems similar to the Sami beliefs in how a nåjden/noajdde (a shaman) could communicate with the spiritual world, including communing with Jábbmeáhkko (Samer n.d. e). However, there is no mention of actual Sami people in His Dark Materials. This seems somewhat odd, considering how other peoples from our world are called out, such as the Samoyed and the Tartars. Nevertheless, their culture does seem to have inspired Pullman’s depiction of the Witches.

I now want to look at some more comparisons between the North in Lyra’s world and Nordic/Swedish history in our world. In the story Lyra travels north to free children who have been kidnapped by The General Oblation Board (GOB) and taking to the station Bolvangar (Pullman 2007, 169). At Bolvangar the children are subjected to different medical studies and experiments. The children who are kidnapped seems to mainly come from lower classes and/or ethnic minorities (such as the gyptians). This is sadly very similar to the groups of people targeted by The State’s Institute for Racial Biology in Sweden. In both cases it was easier to experiment on people who had less power in society. As I outlined before as well, many Sami children were studied at schools and in collaboration with church officials. This seems very similar to a religious government agency taking of children to The North to experiment on them. Another thing I want to highlight is the comparison between the severing of children and dæmons, and sterilisation. In the books, children’s bond to their dæmons (their soul) are severed by the GOB in order to prevent “Dust” settling on the children (Pullman 2007, 275). Dust is considered dangerous and sinful, something that according to the church started infecting humans after their fall from the garden of Eden. Sterilisation in our world, on the other hand, took place in order to make the population “cleaner” and of “better” stock. Groups who were in different ways considered degenerate were targeted, including women who were perceived as promiscuous/sexual transgressors. In Lyra’s world a spiritual connection is severed by the Church in order to curb sinfulness. In our world a biological connection is severed by “scientists” (in collaboration with the Church at times) to control sexuality and reproduction. There is a definite similarity here.

Quite a lot more could probably be written about the similarities between the North in Lyra’s world and ours, but I have to stop somewhere. What I have tried to show here is how Pullman seems to have been inspired both by Sami history/culture, and Nordic history in general when describing the North of Lyra’s world. He also seems to have pulled quite a lot of the racism targeted against ethnic minorities in this area. However, neither of these influences are as explicit as they could have been. In the case of the Sami culture I feel like this is a shame, especially since he chooses to call a country/state Lapland. One would think that since he seems to have done some research on the Sami people, he could have chosen to call it Sápmi instead, or even just include mention of the Sami, as he does with other ethnic groups. However, many of the parallels between the experiments that takes place in the North in Lyra’s world and the experiments that have been taking place in our world are interesting, as well as horrible. I want to end this text by being clear that the sort of discrimination, exploitation and racism that I have described here is not just a product of history. Similar things still happen throughout our world. In the United States latinx children are kept in terrible conditions in concentration camps by the border (see for example Sacchetti 2019). In Chechnya there have been reports about concentrations camps for LGBTQ+ people (see for example Steinmetz 2019). In China reports state that Muslims are being kept and tortured in concentration camps (see for example Ioanes 2019). And in Sweden Sami people are still being denied rights to their land (Torp 2016; Jonsson 2018; TT 2019). We need to stay vigilante and keep fighting.

EDIT: Since Girls Gone Canon mentioned this in their excellent episode about episode 4 in the TV-show I felt compelled to make this small edit. In Trollesund we also meet the character of the sysselman. This post seems to be based on the office of “sysselmann” that exists in parts of Norway and the Faroe Islands, which is sort of like a sherrif. I didn’t consider this until after the last episode because when I re-read The Golden Compass I did so in Swedish, and the word didn’t stand out as non-Swedish. I also confused it with the Swedish word “syssloman” (which is more similar to an attorney). After realising that it wasn’t translated in the English version of the story I looked it up and realised that the word was actually Norweigan, but with a slightly more Swedish spelling (sysselMAN instead of sysselMANN). This seems to be in line with my other analysis that Trollesund has both Swedish and Norweigan influences, while Lapland as a whole also has Finnish influences. So basically Lapland seems to be a mix of Scandinavia and Sápmi… 

EDIT 2: I recently realised that in Nothern Lights/The Golden Compass they mention that the “Norroway” government has influence in Trollesund (Pullman 2011, 170). Once again, this hints at the fact that Trollesund is in what in our world is Norway, as well as makes me even more confused about which states exist in the North. But I still think that Lapland is some sort of mix of Sápmi and other parts of Scandinavia. 

References

Cremona, Patrick. 2019. “Where was His Dark Materials filmed?”. Radio Times. https://www.radiotimes.com/news/tv/2019-11-18/his-dark-materials-filmed-location/

Girls Gone Canon. 2019. His Dark Materials S1E4: “Armor”. https://girlsgonecanon.podbean.com/e/his-dark-materials-s1e4-armor/

*Hagerman, Maja. 2016. ”Svenska kyrkan och rasbiologin”[The Swedish Church and the eugenics]. In De historiska relationerna mellan Svenska Kyrkan och samerna: en vetenskaplig antologi [The Historical relationships between the Swedish Church and the Sami people: a scientific anthology], eds. Lindmark, Daniel & Olle Sundström. Skellefteå: Artos och Norma bokförlag [accessible online here: https://www.svenskakyrkan.se/filer/770f2627-57e5-4e06-b880-4ca6c4f94799.pdf ]

His Dark Materials Wiki. n.d. “Lake Enara” Accessed November 22, 2019. https://hisdarkmaterials.fandom.com/wiki/Lake_Enara

Hübinette, Tobias & Catrin Lundström. 2014. ”Three phases of hegemonic whiteness: understanding racial temporalities in Sweden”, Social Identities: Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture 20 (6): 423-37. [accessible online here: http://www.tobiashubinette.se/swedish_whiteness_2.pdf ]

Ioanes, Ellen. 2019. “Rape, medical experiments, and forced abortions: One woman describes horrors of Xinjiang concentration camps.” Business Insider. October 22, 2019. https://www.businessinsider.com/muslim-woman-describes-horrors-of-chinese-concentration-camp-2019-10?r=US&IR=T

Jonsson, Berno. 2018. ”Stor oro bland samer när kommunen säljer mark.” [Large concerns among Sami people when the municipality sells land] SVT. October 8, 2018. https://www.svt.se/nyheter/lokalt/vasterbotten/stark-oro-bland-samer-nar-kommunen-saljer-mark

Nordiska museet. n.d. “Vem är same? Vem är svensk? Varför vill du veta?” [Who is Sami? Who is Swedish? Why do you want to know?] Accessed November 22, 2019. https://www.nordiskamuseet.se/utstallningar/sapmi

Oxford Reference. n.d. “Yambe-akka”. Accessed November 22, 2019. https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803125245136

Pullman, Phillip. 2007. Guldkompassen. Stockholm: Bokförlaget Natur och Kultur [this is the Swedish translation of The Golden compass]

Pullman, Philip. 2011. Northern Lights. London: Scholastic

Pullman, Phillip. 2017. La Belle Sauvage. New York: Knopf

Sacchetti, Maria. 2019. “1,500 more migrant children separated from parents at US border than previously admitted, ACLU says” Independent. October 25, 2019. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-politics/trump-us-mexico-border-family-separation-migrant-children-aclu-a9170636.html

Samer. n.d. a “Sápmi.” Accessed November 22, 2019. http://www.samer.se/1002

Samer. n.d. b “Drömmen om outtömliga rikedomar i norr.” [The dream of inexhaustible riches in the North] Accessed November 22, 2019. http://www.samer.se/1229

Samer. n.d. c “I Guds tjänst” [In the service of God] Accessed November 22, 2019. http://www.samer.se/4441

Samer. n.d. d “Samepolitik i rasismens tidevarv” [Sami politics in the time of racism] Accessed November 22, 2019. http://www.samer.se/1042

Samer. n.d. e “Kontakt med andarna” [Contact with the spirits] Accessed November 22, 2019. http://www.samer.se/1139

Steinmetz, Katy. 2019. “A Victim of the Anti-Gay Purge in Chechnya Speaks Out: ‘The Truth Exists'” TIME. July 26, 2019. https://time.com/5633588/anti-gay-purge-chechnya-victim/

Torp, Eivind. 2016. “Girjasmålet – rättsprocessen” [The Girjas case- the trial proceedings] Accessed November 22, 2019. http://www.samer.se/4997

TT. 2019. ”Tvist mellan sameby och staten avgörs i HD” [Dispute between Sami village and the state to be determined in the Supreme Court] Aftonbladet. September 2, 2019. https://www.aftonbladet.se/nyheter/a/e8XrOl/tvist-mellan-sameby-och-staten-avgors-i-hd

*this is a chapter from The Swedish Church’s white paper about its treatment of Sami people.

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I’ve recently made some edits to this analysis if anyone’s interested.

[lo-lynx]

Disability, gender, and sexuality in ASOIAF

TW: abelism, sexual violence, sexism

Spoiler warning: spoilers for all of the A Song of Ice and Fire books.

Perhaps one of the most famous quotes from Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire is “cripples, bastards and broken things”, from Tyrion Lannister in the show (Game of Thrones 2011). And there definitely are quite a few disabled characters in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire. I cannot possibly write about all of them here, but I wanted to write something about how disabled characters are described in ASOIAF, because as Mia Harrison writes in her text Power and Punishment in Game of Thrones:

By presenting characters as pitiful, frightening inspirational, or visually interesting based solely on their physical or intellectual difference, fantasy representations of disability contribute to harmful popular narratives that establish people with disabilities as a cultural “Other”. (Harrison 2018, 34)

I’ve previously written about the “othering” of characters in ASOIAF quite a lot on this blog, for instance, regarding race and sexuality, as well as sexuality/gender and ability when it comes to eunuchs (and Varys specifically). In this essay, I want to focus on sexuality, gender, and ability once again, but from a broader perspective than just regarding eunuchs. However, I will limit myself to physical disabilities, because otherwise this will get way too big. I might do a follow-up essay at some point though! 

Before I go any further, however, I want to clarify the perspective from which I’m viewing ability, gender, and sexuality. Allow me to quote Renita Sörensdotter, who has a pHD in social anthropology:

There is no neutral body. We understand our bodies historically, socially, culturally, and materially. Interpretations of bodies’ appearances, behaviour, and value might change, but they are always imbued by cultural significance. Bodies change depending on what we put them through, they are fluid in the sense that they respond to for instance workouts, changing one’s diet, medicine, and surgery. Bodies are also born with different possibilities and abilities, and change through life, which effects how we live in and interpret them. Our bodies are filled with both possibilities and limitations. But the possibilities are nonetheless often constrained by cultural assumptions; that which decides what certain bodies are expected to do, depending on gender, sexuality, ability, ethnicity, class, or age. (Sörensdotter 2015, 11) [my translation]

That is to say, similarly to Sörensdotter, I see both gender, sexuality, and ability as something that is given meaning by society and culture. As she notes further on in the same text, all of these factors also influence each other. What sexuality someone has impacts how their gender is interpreted, or as I will attempt to show in this text; ability impacts how gender is perceived. I also want to note, that when I write about (dis)ability, I acknowledge that pretty much no one is perfectly able-bodied. For instance, I need glasses to see properly, but my body is not considered disabled because being near-sighted is considered within the norm of an able body. So, while no one is really entirely able-bodied in reality, there are still norms and structures in society which deem some bodies disabled and “other” (Malmberg 2012). So, when I analyse disability in ASOIAF, this is my perspective.

Firstly, I want to focus a bit on the men of the series, and how disability affects their ability to embody masculinity. Stephen Whitehead, who is a researcher on gender and sexuality among other things, writes quite a lot about expectations about masculine embodiment. He writes that in general, it is expected that the male body is strong, tough, and in control of physical space (2002, 189). He doesn’t write directly about disability, but he writes about how aging men might struggle to live up to this ideal of the strong male body (ibid, 200). He also notes that aging men might lose their sexual confidence as they age. Implicit in that argument is that male sexuality is expected to be active, and probably also that it should involve penetration, might not be possible for older men. I’ve written LOADS about the connection between masculinity, heterosexuality, and penetration in my essays about eunuchs, but it bears repeating briefly. Anne Fausto-Sterling, for instance, has written about how the penis becomes central in the construction of masculinity (1995). She points out that when a child is born if that child has a penis that is considered too small, surgical interventions will be made, because:

During childhood, the medical literature insists, boys must have a phallus large enough to permit them to pee standing up, thus allowing them to “feel normal” when they play in little boys’ peeing contests. In adulthood, the penis must become large enough for vaginal penetration during intercourse. (…) At birth then, masculinity becomes a social phenomenon. For proper masculine socialization to occur, the little boy must have a sufficiently large penis. (Fausto-Sterling 1995, 131)

It should be noted that there is no medical reason for such interventions, just social ones, and many activists critique these types of surgeries on infants (see for example Amnesty 2017). We can, therefore, note that for a man to be seen as embodying masculinity, he must be strong, in control of physical space, and virile. It is also deemed important that he engages in penetrative heterosexual sex. All of these components make a “real man” in the eyes of society. In popular culture, there are multiple examples of how fear of losing one’s masculinity is tied up in fears of becoming disabled. For instance, in an analysis of disability and masculinity in the show Breaking Bad, JL Schatz writes this about the character Walt: “The fear of losing autonomy and becoming disabled is directly connected with masculinity for Walt.” (2018, 80). A similar connection, I argue, is the case with disability and masculinity in ASOIAF.

Shiloh Carroll writes in her wonderful book Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones that: “The Prowess-focused masculinity of Westeros is also obvious in the culture’s treatment of men and boys with disabilities.” (Carroll 2018, 58) Carroll then goes on to cite two of the perhaps most prominent examples of this: Tyrion Lannister and Bran Stark. These are two characters who throughout the series multiple times struggle with not being able to those things that are expected by them as men. After Bran gets paralyzed, several characters argue that it would be better for him to die than to live with such a disability. For instance, Jaime makes such a case, which prompts Tyrion to defend the lives of “the grotesques” as he puts it (Martin 2011a, 87). Later in A Game of Thrones, Bran also hears Eddard Karstark and his brother Torrhen repeat a similar sentiment (ibid, 560). Regarding Tyrion, he suffers similar stigmatization because of his stature. One of the most interesting moments when he ponders his physically is when he discusses manhood with Varys in A Clash with Kings:

People have called me halfman too, yet I think the gods have been kinder to me. I am small, my legs are twisted, and women do not look upon me with any great yearning… yet I’m still a man. Shae is not the first to grace my bed, and one day I may take a wife and sire a son. (…) You have no such hope to sustain you. Dwarfs are a jape of the gods… but men make eunuchs.’ (Martin 2011b, 120)

We can see here that Tyrion has internalised some of the messages about disability he has been receiving over the years. He calls himself a “halfman” and relates his physicality with some sort of lacking masculinity. However, he still calls himself a man, because he can have sex with women and father sons. Here, we once again see the connection between physical prowess, virility, and masculinity. This is interesting in relation to Bran. In A Game of Thrones when Ned and Arya discuss Bran’s future, Ned says that while Bran cannot be a knight anymore, there are several other positions he could hold. But as he notes: “he will never run beside his wolf again, he thought with sadness too deep for words, or lie with a woman, or hold his own son in his arms.” (Martin 2011a, 248) While Ned is mostly just sad for Bran’s lost opportunities here, there is also a clear gender dynamic in this scene, because right after this Arya asks about her possible future, and Ned says that while Bran might become a High Septon for instance, Arya can’t. Similar to how his sister is hindered by her gender, Bran is seen as limited by his disability. Bran is assumed to not be able to live a full life because of his disability. I’ll get back to disability and sexuality further on, but let's just note here, that if you can’t have penetrative heterosexual sex and father children you aren’t counted as a “real man”.

Speaking of being a real man, someone else who is accused of only being half a man is Doran Martell (2011d, 46). ASOIAF analyser @liesandarbor has written an excellent thread on twitter about how several Martell characters might have some sort of auto-immune disease and lays out an excellent case for why/how this might be the case (2017). I’ll return to the implications of this for Elia Martell later, but first, Doran. In the first chapter when we meet him in person, his niece Obara Sand confronts him about not declaring war on the Lannisters after Oberyn Martell’s death. When Doran explains that he has written letters to them, she exclaims: “Written? If you were half the man my father was- “. (Martin 2011d, 46) She then explains her plan for revenge, pointing out that Doran need not even leave his chair to go through with it. Here Obara clearly links what she perceives as weakness/cowardness as well as unmanliness with Doran’s disability (his gout and how it mostly confines him to a chair).

I next want to turn to Jaime, and his experiences with masculinity and disability. When we first meet Jaime, he is the very embodiment of masculine prowess (Jon notes that “this is what a king should look like” (Martin 2011a, 48)). With so much of his identity tied up into being a knight and a fighter, it is perhaps not surprising that he gets launched into an identity crisis after losing his hand. As he puts it in the chapter after losing said hand: “Was that all I was, a sword hand?” (Martin 2011c, 416). If he can’t be a fighter (i.e. strong, in control of physical space like Whitehead writes) is he even a man? As he travels through the Riverlands with Brianne and the Brave Companions he thinks: “It was his right hand that made him a knight; it was his right arm that made him a man.” (Martin 2011c, 417). Now, Jaime arguably becomes a better person after this identity crisis, but, as Mia Harrison puts it: “For Jaime his right hand symbolizes everything he must forfeit to become a better person, his fighting, his masculinity, and his selfishness.” (2018, 30). It’s definitely fitting that he must do this in company of Brianne, who is also struggling with other’s expectations on her based on her gender (I’ve written more about Brianne here).

I’ve now written quite a lot about masculinity and disability, and you might be wondering, WHAT ABOUT THE WOMEN? Don’t worry, I’ve got you. So, if a male body should be strong and in control according to society, then a female body should be pretty much the opposite, according to Whitehead (2002, 189). It should be timid, restricted, careful, etc. Furthermore, as Malmberg writes, there are many expectations on what female bodies should look like (2012). This leads to women with disabilities to generally be perceived as unattractive:

The limping leg or the missing arm, by definition, excludes them from being attractive, in a broad sense, no matter how their bodies, in other ways, conform to the normative body. In particular, many women with physical disabilities have internalised an image of seeing themselves as non-attractive, which is strengthened by how they are treated and the prevailing societal norms. (Malmberg 2012, 198)

Since disabled women are often seen as unattractive, they are often desexualised too and/or assumed to be asexual. As Malmberg also points out, this largely excludes them from narratives about reproduction. That is to say, disabled women are not expected to have children. In general, disabled women are often not seen as “real women” since they are assumed to not be able to live up to the norms of womanhood (attractiveness, heterosexuality, motherhood etc). Malmberg also argues that disabled people in general are just seen as their physical condition. They are no longer a person, someone with gender and sexuality, etc, instead being reduced to an object, for instance, a wheelchair, autism, or polio (that is their disability or their technical aid)

When it comes to disabled women in ASOIAF, I want to start with Penny. On the surface she fits into a lot of norms of femininity, she is for instance described as shy/timid (Martin 2012, 512). Her shyness and submissiveness might be seen as an example of what a perfect woman in ASOIAF should be, but it very much annoys Tyrion. She later tells Tyrion off for mocking ser Jorah, because: “You mustn’t mock him. Don’t you know anything? You can’t talk that way to a big person. They can hurt you.” (Martin 2012, 616) Here the different gender and class position that Tyrion and Penny have grown up in becomes extremely clear. While Tyrion has been seen as less of a man because of his physicality, he has still had his class position to back him up and uses that to make up for his lack of physical strength. Penny has not had that opportunity. She also becomes a victim of sexualised violence, when for instance on the Selaesori Qhoran “the cook had put about the notion that squeezing a dwarf girl’s breast might be just the thing to win their luck back.” (ibid 612) This is unfortunately very in line with how disabled women are sexually abused in our world as well. As I mentioned above, disabled women are often desexualised and seen more as objects than people. Malmberg’s describes that impact thusly: “The objectification of a disabled woman constructs a ‘logic’ according to which the perpetrator does not violate or assault a human being, but an object, a ‘thing’”. (Malmberg 206). While Tyrion doesn’t sexually abuse Penny, he doesn’t have any sexual attraction to her either. When she kisses him, he thinks about how he does not want her, and describes her as being very innocent (Martin 2012, 620). This seems in line with how disabled women are desexualised, and as a consequence of that often infantilised (Malmberg 2012).

Speaking of innocent girls, I next want to turn to princess Shireen. When we first meet Shireen, Maester Cressen describes her like this:

Hers was not a pretty face, alas. The child had her lord father’s square jut of jaw and her mother’s unfortunate ears, along with a disfigurement all her own, the legacy of the bout of greyscale that had almost claimed her in the crib. Across half one cheek and well down her neck, her flesh was stiff and dead, the skin cracked and flaking, mottled black and grey and stony to the touch. (Martin 2011b, 3)

Her appearance makes her the object of others’ pity, and to a certain degree, disgust. When Val meets her in A Dance with Dragons, she argues that Shireen should be given the gift of mercy because of the contagiousness of the disease grey scale (Martin 2012, 825). In general, Shireen is described as innocent and sweet, and as a “poor child” because of her health and looks. Mia Harrison argues that Shireen in many ways fits into the trope of “poor little things, brave little souls” (2018, 32). Such characters “are to be pitied, derided, or feared” (ibid). We can see this in how she is pitied for her looks (as Catelyn says about Brianne in A Clash of Kings; “Is there any creature on the earth as unfortunate as an ugly woman?” (Martin 2011b, 312), and how her illness is feared. Harrison also points out that characters who fit this trope generally mostly serves as a function in other character’s plots; the reader is supposed to judge other character’s moral goodness based on how they treat the poor disabled character (Harrison 2018, 32). This, by the way, is seemingly also the case for Penny. Both of their innocence is heightened by being seen as “poor little things”, and young women/girls. Like Malmberg writes, they are infantilised in many ways (2012).

I next want to turn to someone whose disability is perhaps less often commented upon, namely Catelyn Stark. After Catelyn hurts her hand in the attack by the catspaw, she seemingly loses most of her mobility in that hand. In A Game of Thrones when she arrives in Kings Landing, she notes how her fingers are “thick and awkward” when she tries to use them (Martin 2011a, 165). She continues to struggle to use them in A Clash with Kings when she thinks:

Her fingers seemed more clumsy than usual as she fumbled on her clothes. She supposed she ought to be grateful that she had any use of her hands at all. The dagger had been Valyrian steel, and Valyrian steel bites deep and sharp. She had only to look at the scars to remember. (Martin 2011b, 301)

But while Cat herself makes note of her hands several times, it is definitely not brought up as often as Jaime’s hand injury is for instance. When it is mentioned by other characters, the focus is often on the scarring, i.e. on their looks (for instance: Martin 2011a 167 & 196). Since Jaime is a knight, and Cat a noble lady, this is perhaps not surprising. Cat can still do most of her duties even with lacking mobility in her hands, Jaime struggles a lot more. But it does also say something about the expectations and focus on men and women’s bodies.

Next, I want to turn to another mother, Elia Martell. As I mentioned above, there is a case to be made that she had some sort of auto-immune disease. In the books, we hear several times how she was frail and struggled with childbirth. I want to focus in particular on this quote about her from the chapter The Griffin Reborn in A Dance with Dragons:

She was sick and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon’s birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward. (Martin 2012, 940)

This, according to Jon Connington, made her unworthy of being the wife of Rhaegar. Now, Jon also loved Rhaegar, so part of this is surely jealousy talking. But even so, Elia’s so-called frailness is connected to her apparent failure as a wife and mother. Being a mother is generally intimately connected with being a proper/real woman, and the lack of it is one of the things that make disabled women seem less womanly in the eyes of society (Malmberg 2012). This, by the way, is something Daenerys struggles with as well as she wonders “what man would want a barren wife?” (Martin 2011b, 182). For Dany, this of course has larger implications, with a big part of her identity being that of the mother.

Now that I’ve analysed (dis)ability and its connection to both femininity and masculinity, I want to focus a bit more specifically on sexuality. I’ve noted that for someone to be considered a “real” man or woman in the eyes of society, it seems very important that they engage in heterosexual penetrative sex. That heterosexuality is important for gender according to society is something A LOT of writers agree on (for instance: Butler 1990; Rich 1980; Rubin 1975). Furthermore, as feminist theorist Gayle Rubin notes in her famous essay Thinking Sex, in our society different sexual practices are seen as “good” and “normal” vs “bad” and “abnormal”, illustrated below by two circles (Rubin 1984).

Other writers have also written about how what is sexual differ between different people, for instance, for some having penetrating sex might take second fiddle to just being close to your partner and engage in other intimate practices (Sandberg). Sandberg specifically notes that what someone sees as sexual might change over one’s life, as one’s body and ability changes. This, however, does not lessen the experience. I want to finish this paragraph by recommending a Youtube video that is produced by the Swedish project Sex i rörelse (“sex in movement”), which aims at starting conversations around sex and ability (RFSU 2019). They have produced three videos in total, which are on Youtube, with English subtitles, as well as a website with more info, but that is unfortunately only in Swedish (Sex i rörelse 2020).

As I mentioned in the beginning of this essay, one could write a lot more on this topic, and I think I will return to it at a later date, but this essay is getting long as it is. So, in conclusion, when analysing (dis)ability in ASOIAF, it becomes obvious that the way someone’s body looks, and functions is very tied up with their gender and sexuality. Or, rather, what people think of those things are tightly intertwined. For the disabled men of ASOIAF, such as Bran, Tyrion, Jaime, and Doran, they are seen as less of a man because of their lack of physical prowess. For the disabled women, such as Penny, Shireen, Catelyn, and Elia, it rather affects how their looks and value as sexual partners and mothers are determined. Regardless of gender, it impacts how characters are treated. Assumptions about their ability, preferences, goals, sexuality, etc are made based on their body. So, in that way, it is quite similar to our world.

 References:

Amnesty International. (2017). “First, do no harm: ensuring the rights of children born intersex.” Accessed 1 December, 2019. https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/campaigns/2017/05/intersex-rights/

Butler, Judith. 1990. Gender Trouble. Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. Routledge: New York.

Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer.

Fausto-Sterling, Anne. 1995. “How to build a man”, in Constructing Masculinity, eds. Berger, Maurice, Brian Wallis & Simon Watson, 127-134. New York: Routledge.

Game of Thrones. 2011. Cripples, Bastards, and Broken Things. HBO, May 8, 2011.

Harrison, Mia. 2018. “Power and Punishment in Game of Thrones.” In The Image of Disability: Essays on Media Representation, edited by JL Schatz & Amber E. George. McFarland & Company: Jefferson.

liesandarbor. 2017. “lots of thoughts on auto-immune disease in the Martell line…” November 17, 2017. https://twitter.com/liesandarbor/status/930152177255010304?s=21

Malmberg, Denise. 2012. “’To Be Cocky Is to Challenge the Norms’: The Impact of Bodynormativity on Bodily and Sexual Attraction in Relation to Being a Cripple.” lambda Nordica, 17:1-2, 194-216.

Martin, George RR. 2011a. A Game of Thrones. Harper Voyager: London.

Martin, George RR. 2011b. A Clash of Kings. Harper Voyager: London.

Martin, George RR. 2011c. A Storm of Swords 1: Steel and Snow. Harper Voyager: London.

Martin, George RR. 2011d. A Feast for Crows. Bentam Books: New York.

Martin, George RR. (2012). A Dance with Dragons. Harper Voyager: London.

Rich, Adrianne Cecile. 1980/2003. “Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence (1980)”, Journal of Women's History, 15:3, 11-48.

Rubin, Gayle. 1975. “The traffic in Women: Notes on the ‘Political Economy of Sex’.” In Toward and Anthropology of Women, edited by Rayna R. Reiter. Monthly Review Press: New York.

Rubin, Gayle. 1984. “Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality.” In Pleasure and Danger: Exploring Female Sexuality, edited by C. S. Vance. Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Pandora: London.

RFSU. 2019. “Någonting nytt (Sex i rörelse)”. Youtube, May 5, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUmGjfl719I

Schatz, JL. 2018. ”Disabling Masculinity: Masculine Fragility and the Discourses of Disability in AMC’s Breaking Bad.” In The Image of Disability: Essays on Media Representation, edited by JL Schatz & Amber E. George. McFarland & Company: Jefferson.

Sex i rörelse. n.d. ”Om sex, funktion och att bryta mot normen.” Accessed 1 March, 2020. https://sexirorelse.se/

Sörensdotter, Renita. 2015. ”Kroppar sedda utifrån cripteori.” Kroppsfunktion. En antologi, edited by Frida Sandström, C.off: Stockholm.

Whitehead, Stephen M. 2002. Men and Masculinities, Polity: Cambridge and Malden.

[lo-lynx]

The reluctant (masculine) hero in GoT and Harry Potter

(Spoiler warning for episode 8x04 of Game of Thrones)

In the latest episode of Game of Thrones Varys and Tyrion talks about who would be the best ruler of The Seven Kingdoms; the queen who has spent years trying to get the throne, or the potential king who doesn’t want it. (NOTE: I AM NOT TAKING A STAND ON WHO WOULD BE THE BETTER RULER) Varys then says: “Have you considered the best ruler might be someone who doesn’t want to rule?” (Game of Thrones 2019: 57:34 min) This plays right into the classic trope of the reluctant hero, the character who doesn’t want to lead but is forced into the situation and turns out to be the hero. Another example of this is Harry Potter, who never wants to be the chosen one, but ends up leading the fight against evil nonetheless. In the seventh Harry Potter book the issue of power and how it can corrupt is very present, and in their final dreamlike discussion Harry and his mentor Dumbledore discusses just that. Dumbledore says:

It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well. (Rowling 2007: 575)

I couldn’t help but to think of that quote after watching that latest Game of Thrones episode and ruminating on how alike Jon Snow and Harry Potter’s journey of reluctant leadership are. Jon Snow declines leadership several times in both the books and the show, in this latest episode of the show they emphases several time how he doesn’t want the throne. The books obviously haven’t gotten that far, but there as well this trope is evident when Jon initially doesn’t want to be the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch (Martin 2000/2011: 519). This recurring theme in stories of the hero not wanting to lead is interesting and is most likely there to make us more sympathetic towards them. But as @arhythmetric on twitter wrote (and shout out to her for being the inspiration of this text), not everyone has the opportunity to be a leader in the first place:

I understand the appeal of the “reluctant monarch” but I continue to hate it because it almost always cuts against those to whom power doesn’t just fall into their laps. Look at who gets to be the reluctant monarch every time: straight, able-bodied white men.

The myth of the reluctant leader cuts against women, POC, LGBTQ, disabled people, those who DON’T already have power. And when they try to take some of it, they get painted as power hungry for wanting something denied to them. Because we have to fight for it in a way those who just get it don’t.  (arhythmetric 2019)

There are a million ways one could analyse the reluctant hero, why some leaders are seen as legitimate and some not, but one thing that struck me as interesting is the way the importance of them to be masculine.

As many have written before, the traditional hero in Western stories are male, and masculine (Goodwill 2009: 15). But what does masculine mean? RW Connell (2008: 109) writes that there are different types of masculinities in society, that are all a result of the gender relations that exists. She sees gender as a way to organise social praxis, that is, how everyday life is organised based on the reproductive arena (i.e. bodily functions such as attraction and child bearing) (Connell 2008: 138). Moreover, by describing the different kinds of masculinity that exists she makes it clear that there are hierarchical relations between them as well (Connell 2008: 114). She describes different types of masculinity, but here I want to focus on hegemonial masculinity. Hegemonial masculinity is the type of masculinity that is on the top of the gender hierarchy. It is the ideal version of masculinity and the one that best preserves men’s power over women. It’s important to note that this might not be what we often think of as the most masculine, it doesn’t have to be a body builder for instance. In Sweden (where I live) I’d probably describe it as a white middle class man, who works out (but not too much), is a responsible dad, is handy and likes being outdoors, but is also “with the times” and tech-savvy… You get it, the ideal. The point is that hegemonial masculinity is different in different contexts. One important part of it however is that it often excludes certain types of men, for instance LGBTQ men are often seen as “too feminine” (Connell 2008: 116). Another example is that men of colour for instance might represent a marginalised masculinity, something framed as the opposite of the (white) hegemonic masculinity (Connell 2008: 117).

How does this all connect to the reluctant hero? Well, I would consider most heroes to be examples of hegemonic masculinity. In many ways, that is what makes others rally around them as leaders, even if they don’t want to be those leaders. If we use Harry Potter and Jon Snow as examples they very much fit many of the requirements to be ideal masculine heroes. Firstly, they’re both white, straight (as far as we know…), able-bodied and men. Like Varys said in this last Game of Thrones episode “Yes because he’s a man. Cocks are important I’m afraid.” (Game of Thrones 2019: 1:01:08 min) (Note: I obviously don’t think genitals determine one’s gender, but the world does, including in Westeros) But while they’re both fighters they aren’t merciless, both of them try to spare people from death when they can, often to their own detriment. (Martin 2011/2012: 829 & 1064; Rowling 2007: 64) This shows that they aren’t just super-masculine killing machines. The fact that they don’t want to be leaders also show that they are somewhat humble, another good trait. But the fact that they can afford to not be ambitious, and still becomes leaders is in my opinion dependant on the fact that they fit the image of hegemonic masculinity so well.

Wahl, Holgersson, Höök and Linghag (2011) discusses how gender impacts hierarchies in organisations, and what kind of leader someone can be. They write about three aspects that impacts one’s ability to rise in the hierarchy; ability/opportunity, power, and the composition of the group (Wahl et al. 2011: 77). The first aspect is about what kind of ability one perceives themselves to have to advance. Someone with limited resources/opportunities will limit their own ambition, but someone who starts off with many opportunities will have a higher self-esteem and make use of the opportunities they have. When it comes to power, someone with a small amount of power becomes more authoritative and has to use force to get their will through (Wahl et al 2011: 79). But someone with more power can afford to be more relaxed and thus is generally more liked. Finally, the group’s composition matters because if you are in a minority (for instance being a woman in a male-dominated workplace) you become more visible (Wahl et al 2011: 80). This can be negative because you then become a representative of that whole minority and might have to suffer from stereotypes that exists. You might also feel more pressured to perform well, feeling that you are a representative of for instance all women. A final consequence might be that the majority group might feel threatened by you infringing on what has previously solely been their territory.

Does any of this sound familiar? Those last points in particular, in my opinion, very much describe how Daenerys and Jon have been described in this last season of Game of Thrones. Authoritative and disliked, or less bothered by formalities and more liked by the people. Daenerys is a stranger, not only as someone having lived in another country, but also as a woman trying to rule. She becomes hyper visible in this way, and as Varys says, perhaps people would be less forgiving if she was a man. Jon on the other hand doesn’t want to rule, but people keep trying to force it on him. He can keep turning down leadership, but people will still accept him as a leader. If Daenerys didn’t actively try to seek power no one would give it to her. This is in the end why so many reluctant heroes are white straight able-bodied men, they can be reluctant and still be given power. I’m not saying that someone that isn’t a white man is automatically a better ruler. But I am saying that it’s much easier for such a person to gain power. If a woman, POC, LGBTQ+ person, and/or disabled person doesn’t actively seek it no one will give it to us. But a good hero doesn’t seek power.

References:

arhythmetric (2019). I understand the appeal of the “reluctant monarch”(…) [twitter post], 6th of May. https://twitter.com/arhythmetric/status/1125377350596812801 [2019-05-06]

Connell, R.W. (2008) Maskuliniteter. (2nd edition). Göteborg: Bokförlaget Daidalos AB [this is the Swedish translation of Connell’s book Masculinities]

Game of Thrones (2019). The Last of the Starks. [TV-show] HBO, 5th of May.

Goodwill, J-A. S. (2009) THE ACTION HERO REVISIONED: AN ANALYSIS OF FEMALE “MASCULINITY” IN THE NEW FEMALE HERO IN RECENT FILMIC TEXTS. Master dissertation. University of South Africa.

Martin, G.R.R. (2000/2011). A Storm of Swords 2: Blood and Gold. London: HarperVoyager.

Martin, G. R. R. (2011/2012). A Dance with Dragons. London: HarperVoyager.

Rowling, J.K. (2007). Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. London: Bloomsbury Publishing.

Wahl, A., Holgersson, C., Höök, P. & Linghag, S. (2011). Det ordnar sig: teorier om organisation och kön. Lund: Studentlitteratur.

[skywalkerstyrion-deactivated202]

I think a good example of reluctant female hero is Katniss Everdeen from “The Hunger Games”, people regarded her as a good leader in the same way they did to Harry and her journey is very similar to Harry’s too.

[secretlyatargaryen]

Well, even within the Hunger Games we have an example of an ambitious female leader who is revealed to be corrupt (Coin) specifically because of her ambition, and Katniss is being used by the resistance and does not get any of her own power or agency as a result of being the reluctant hero. Which I think fits with what is being said here. Male reluctant heroes are imbued with power and authority because they don’t have to fight for it. Women who do fight for these things are portrayed as corrupt. Katniss is a reluctant hero who gets none of the things male heroes are rewarded with because she doesn’t want them, and this is seen as a thing that makes her inherently good. So I think this still fits within the sexist trope.

[lo-lynx]

Excellent point! I didn’t consider Coin and Katniss like this, but it totally fits. 

[lo-lynx]

The rulers of the forest: The witches of His Dark Materials and Scandinavian folklore

Spoiler warning: All of the His Dark Materials books, and one tiny spoiler from The Secret Commonwealth 

Beautiful, supernatural, and gets PISSED if you turn down their advances. I could very well be describing the witches from His Dark Materials, but I could also be describing the Skogsrå of Scandinavian mythology. Skogsrå means “ruler of the forest” and is one of several similar mythological beings in Scandinavian folklore (there is also the Sjörå, ruler of the lake/sea, and Bergsrå, ruler of the mountain). The Skogsrå, as well as the other rå, can be likened to the fairies of English mythology (Häll 2013, 62). She, because she is always a woman, appears walking alone in the forest, looking beautiful, and often tries to seduce the men who meet her (Harjunen 2019). However, she often has some sort of physical deformity (that she tries to hide), such as a tail or having a rotting tree trunk for a back.

Source: https://sv.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skogsr%C3%A5et#/media/Fil%3ASkogsr%C3%A5_med_ih%C3%A5lig_rygg.jpg

Source: https://www.isof.se/om-oss/for-dig-i-skolan/arkivvaskan/skogsraet-i-folktron.html

Those who pleased her (by having sex with her, or for instance by helping her with the animals she kept) were generally given some sort of boon, such as luck in hunting or fishing (Häll 2013, 129). If you did not do as she wanted, however, you could expect some sort of punishment (ibid, 345). Having sex with her, was not always a good idea, however. Those who did so could often come away from the encounter feeling sick (ibid, 378). It could also lead to a feeling of emasculation since these women were the dominant partner in the relationship (Harjunen 2019). Sometimes this was literal too, with the men losing their genitalia or it being damaged in some way.

Now, I feel like the witches of His Dark Materials share many traits with the Skogsrå. Firstly, they’re both described as beautiful women who are connected to the forest; when we first hear of the witches, we learn that “They live in forests and on the tundra. Their business is with the wild.” (Pullman 2011a, 165). They are consistently described as beautiful (ex: Pullman 2011a, 300; Pullman 2011b; 49 & 118). Similarly, the Skogsrå is the ruler of the forest, and it is also there one might encounter her (Harjunen 2019). Harjunen writes that the forest often was considered to be the borderland between the safe, human, world and the unknown world of the supernatural. The forest was also often coded as female, and as something that should be conquered by men (for instance by hunting the animals in it).

Source: https://www.isof.se/om-oss/for-dig-i-skolan/arkivvaskan/skogsraet-i-folktron.html

Here you can also see a connection between the wildness of the forest and the wildness of the Skogsrå’s sexuality. Häll notes that this was a great contrast to the gender norms of premodern Sweden and the ideal femininity where women were supposed to be virtuous (2013, 401). This leads me to my second point: as one might expect, the church was hardly a fan of the Skogrå and similar beings. They were seen during the 15th and 16th century to be Satan’s creatures, and to have sex with them (as some men claimed that they had) were likened to having sex with the devil (ibid 251). Similarly, there is most definitely a conflict between the witches’ way of life and that of the church in His Dark Materials. As Ruta Skadi notes about the church in The Subtle Knife: “For all its history (…) it has tried to suppress and control every natural impulse. (…) That is what the church does, and every church is the same: control, destroy, obliterate every good feeling.” (Pullman 2011b, 50) (Side note: Is Ruta basically a Marxist? This might have to be another essay at some point.) I’ve written before on the church’s attempts to control sexuality in His Dark Materials, if anyone is interested in that. We get another glimpse at the church’s view on witches when Will meets a priest in The Amber Spyglass who tells him this:

“the witches- daughters of evil! The church should have put them all to death many years ago. Witches- have nothing to do with them, Will Ivanovitch, you hear me? You know what they will do when you come to the right age? They will try to seduce you. They will use all the soft cunning deceitful ways they have, their flesh, their soft skin, their sweet voices, and they will take your seed- you know what I mean by that- they will drain you and leave you hollow! They will take your future, your children, and leave you nothing.” (Pullman 2011c, 100).

The priest here echoes a lot of the Christian views on the Skogsrå in Sweden; linking them to the devil and describing them as seductresses. His sentiments are also similar to how the Skogsrå was seen as someone who might bring illness and emasculate her male lovers (Harjunen 2019). Harjunen also makes the interesting point that those who have sex with a Skogsrå might be seen as “queer by association” (ibid, 47). This is because the Skogsrå, as a forest spirit and a woman breaking gender norms, was seen as a kind of queer being. In a similar line of thinking, Häll writes that in the eyes of the church, having sex with a Skogsrå were often considered to be sodomy (2013, 200). All in all, those who had sex with a Skogsrå could be considered to not be “real men” because they engaged in sexual behavior that was not heteronormative. A similar point is raised by the priest in The Amber Spyglass when he claims that the witches will take men’s seed, and thus take their children and future. The man will then not be able to live up to the heteronormative ideal of having a wife and fathering children.

Now, I want to look at the thing that first made me consider this connection between the witches and the Skogsrå; the giving of favors or punishment. When we’re first introduced to the witches, we learn that they might be inclined to help our heroes, because “there’s an obligation there” after Fader Coram helped save Serafina Pekkala’s life (Pullman 2011a, 163). Similarly, in The Secret Commonwealth (TINY SPOILER), we learn about a witch in Sala silver mine (a real place by the way) who helped some miners heal from illness, and they in return helped her when her cloud-pine went missing (Pullman 2019, 345). This story is very similar to the way a Skogsrå or Bergsrå might help forest workers or miners.

 (Note the tail) Source: https://sv.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skogsr%C3%A5et#/media/Fil%3ATroll_woman.gif 

But unfortunately, we also get stories a plenty of what happens when you spurn a witch. As a seal-hunter puts it like this to Lee in The Subtle Knife: “A witch offers you her love, you should take it. If you don’t, it’s your own fault if bad things happen to you. It’s like having to make a choice: a blessing or a curse.” (Pullman 2011, 118). This is consistent with how the Skogsrå is described; if you do what she wants she will reward you (for instance by giving you luck with hunting or curing an illness), but if you reject her, she will punish you (Häll 2013, 345). This latter outcome is seen in The Subtle Knife when the witch Juta Kamainen kills Stanislaus Grumman/John Parry for scorning her (Pullman 2011b, 321).

So, in conclusion, the Skogsrå of Scandinavian folklore have often represented a wildness, untamed nature and female sexuality. They were deemed sinful and agents of Satan by the church. They could help you if you helped them, but if you scorned them they would punish you. Similarly, the witches of His Dark Materials live in the wilderness, are very sexual, are disliked by the church for this, and can both help and punish you. What we can take from this comparison, besides the fact that Pullman might have been inspired by this folklore, is that women who, in the words of Häll, do not follow gender norms and are virtuous are a threat (2013, 401). In fact, Häll describes the Skogsrå as “the femme fatal of folklore” (my translation) (ibid, 404). This description fits the witches quite well too. I’m not sure if Pullman does enough to deconstruct this idea though. But, as I have argued in previous texts, it is interesting that female sexuality is such a big threat to the institution of the Magisterium. And since the Magisterium is the villain of the story, we should probably cheer Ruta Skadi when she calls for its destruction for its attempt to “obliterate every good feeling” (Pullman 2011b, 50). So, while I have some quibbles with how the witches are portrayed, I guess we should celebrate these femme fatales of the forest.

 References

Harjunen, Catarina. 2019. “Queer Perspectives on Erotic Human-Supernatural Encounters in Finland-Swedish Folk Legends”. lambda nordica. 1/2019: 46-66

Häll, Mikael. 2013. Skogsrået, näcken och Djävulen: Erotiska naturväsen och demonisk sexualitet i 1600- och 1700-talens Sverige. Stockholm: Malört

Pullman, Philip. 2011a. Northern Lights. London: Scholastic.

Pullman, Philip. 2011b. The Subtle Knife. London: Scholastic.

Pullman, Philip. 2011c. The Amber Spyglass. London: Scholastic.

Pullman, Philip. 2019. The Secret Commonwealth. London: Penguin Random House

[lo-lynx]

Brienne and Arya: gender outlaws

TW: sexual violence, sexism, transphobia, transphobic violence

Spoiler warning: spoilers for all ASOIAF books

Brienne Tarth and Arya Stark, perhaps our most prominent warrior maids of ASOIAF, share a lot of similarities, even as their stories diverge. In her book Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones Shiloh Carroll describes how both of them fit the fantasy trope of the “exceptional woman” (2018, 71). Carroll describes that trope like this:

In a society that has specific expectations of women and women’s roles, those who step outside of them- and are not immediately shamed, beaten, or otherwise forced back into line- are exceptions to society’s rules. Exceptional women are isolated due to the liminal space they inhabit, not part of a community of women nor truly accepted into the company of men. (ibid, 70)

In this text I want to look at how Brienne and Arya inhabit this liminal space, and how they are perceived as, in Jack/Judith Halberstam’s words, “gender outlaws” (1998, 118). I’ve taken a lot of inspiration from the book which that quote comes from, Female Masculinity, as well as Halberstam’s other book In a Queer Time and Place when writing this text, something I will return to later.

Now, I’m hardly the first person to write about Brienne and Arya’s relation to their gender. In this text I’ve taken inspiration from a lot of other people, including Shiloh Carroll that I mentioned above. One aspect that many other people mention that I thought important to bring up is the problematic notion that women/girls like Arya and Brienne are framed as better than feminine girls, like Sansa. For instance, in their episode MM3 The Women of Westeros the Maester Monthly podcast highlight how the notion that Arya is stronger than Sansa is very contextual (2017). Also, as Shiloh Carroll mentions in her book, most women in ASOIAF run the risk of being raped etc, be they feminine/masculine, highborn/lowborn (even if the situations are different) (2018, 89). Another point that Maester Monthly brings up is how both Arya and Brienne, in contrast to other warrior women like Asha, seem to in some sense reject their gender (2017). This is a point that many people have discussed, with some agreeing, and others such as tumblr poster trebutchettully arguing that she does identify as a woman, just not with the gender norms of Westeros (2014). This is a point I will return to later. Another analysis of these characters’ genders that I want to highlight comes from the podcast Girls Gone Canon’s patreon episode Patreon episode 3: Every Day is Halloween where they discuss different disguises in the ASOIAF novels. They point out that while Arya at first assumes her identity of the boy Arry for safety reasons, she continuedly has a sort of genderfluid identity, moving between differently gendered identities. This is amplified by her association with death, given how death’s personification in The Stranger is a genderless deity. All this said, I’m going to focus less on Arya and Brienne’s gender IDENTITY, and more how their gender is perceived in story. This is partly because I generally think that’s more interesting, but also because trying to puzzle out someone’s gender identity can be a very thorny issue.

So, to get into the analysis then. I want to begin by looking at both Arya and Brienne’s childhoods. In A Game of Thrones we are introduced to Arya as a tomboy who prefers playing with swords to doing needlework (Martin 2011a, 67). This is something her father Ned somewhat accepts, even if he expects that she’ll end up marrying a lord like a proper lady (ibid, 248). Similarly, we learn that Brienne got to learn to swordfight as a child, but her father still tried to find her a betrothed, that is until she fought one of them in the yard (Martin 2011d, 202). In the book Female Masculinity author Halberstam points out that while tomboys often are slightly more accepted than feminine boys, there is a limit to this acceptance:

Tomboyism is punished, however, when it appears to be the sign of extreme male identification (taking a boy’s name or refusing girl clothing of any type) and when it threatens to extend beyond childhood and into adolescence. Teenage tomboyism presents a problem and tends to be subject to the most severe efforts to reorient. We could say that tomboyism is tolerated as long as the child remains prepubescent; as soon as puberty begins, however, the full force of gender conformity descends on the girl. (Halberstam 1998, 6).

What Halberstam highlights here is the same seems similar to the attitude Brienne and Arya’s fathers seem to take; tomboyism is okay, as long as you still fall into (the heterosexual) line. To be fair, we obviously never get to know how Ned would’ve treated Arya’s continuous tomboyism (</3).

Now, I next want to look at Arya’s story in A Clash of Kings. In Clash Arya starts out in the disguise of the orphan boy Arry. This is, in Yoren’s words, because of the unsavoury nature of the other recruits headed for the Night’s Watch:

‘(…) half o’ them would turn you over to the queen quick as spit for a pardon and maybe a few silvers. The other half’d do the same, only they’d rape you first. So you keep to yourself and make your water in the woods, alone. (…)’ (Martin 2011c, 25)

So, from her first chapter in the book, the threat of rape is present. Arya continues employing the disguise of Arry, until Gendry realises that she is a girl, partly because he notices that she always sneaks off to make water (ibid, 270). In the end, her cover as a boy is blown for good, when captured by Gregor Clegane’s men and being forced to make water in sight of other people (ibid, 377). This brings to mind what Halberstam calls “the bathroom problem”;

Ambiguous gender, when and where it does appear, is inevitably transformed into deviance, thirdness, or a blurred version of either male or female. As an example, in public bathrooms for women various bathroom users tend to fail to measure up to expectations of femininity, and those of us who present in some ambiguous way are routinely questioned and challenged about our presence in the ‘wrong’ bathroom. (…) Not-man and not-woman, the gender-ambiguous bathroom user is also not androgynous or in-between; this person is gender deviant. (1998, 20-21)

Bathroom thus becomes places where gender conformity is extra enforced, and therefore it is very fitting that Arya’s “true” gender becomes exposed in these circumstances (obviously gender is not the same as sex, but in the minds of the Westerosi it is). This view of the gender ambiguous person, or gender deviant person, puts me in mind of how Brienne is often described, which I want to analyse next.

When we first meet Brienne of Tarth she is mistaken by Catelyn Stark as a man (Martin 2011b, 311). This discussion of whether she is a man or woman is continued in Jaime’s A Storm of Swords’ chapters, where he teases her about seeing herself more as her father’s son than daughter (Martin 2011c, 155). Unsurprisingly, this is expressed most harshly by Lord Randyll Tarly:

(…) it is said that your father is a good man. If so, I pity him. Some men are blessed with sons, some with daughters. No man deserves to be cursed with such as you. (Martin 2011d, 520)

In her encounters with Lord Tarly, presently and previously, he also several times points out that it is her own fault if she gets raped, because she dresses as a knight and goes to war. Just as with Arya in A Clash of Kings, the threat of rape is ever-present in Brienne’s chapters. This might be, as Shiloh Carroll puts it, because:

(…) her status as an exceptional woman makes her more vulnerable than other noblewomen to sexual assault and rape; while many of [Martin’s] common women are subject to sexual assault, few noblewomen face more than the threat of violence. Brienne’s choice to take on masculine power and act as a knight exposes her to the threat of physical violence, but unlike the men, Brienne is also subjected to the threat of sexual violence because she is a woman acting outside of her gender role. (2018, 73)

So, as a “gender deviant” she gets punished. This is also a point that Halberstam raises, that in the views of society, “gender nonconformity must be corrected through the enforcement of heterosexuality” (2005, 66). Halberstam here writes about violence against trans men, but even if Brienne perhaps does not identify as a man, I think the situation is similar. Specifically, Halberstam refers to the case of Brandon Teena, who was raped and later murdered for being trans. Halberstam writes:

(…) for the men, the body must be the final arbiter of manhood because, in a sense, this is the only competition within which they can beat the version of masculinity that Brandon champions. When Brandon literally did not measure up to the physical test of manhood, his two male ‘friends’ took him out to a remote spot, where they then raped and sodomized him. The punishment, as far as they were concerned, fit the crime inasmuch as Brandon must be properly returned to the body he denied. (ibid)

Lets now first take a breath, curse the world, and dry possible tears. Okay, lets continue… Like I said, Brienne’s situation is not exactly the same, but she does face threats of similar sexual violence from the bloody mummers (Martin 2011d, 795). Gender deviance must be punished, and gender nonconformity must be corrected through heterosexuality.

So, in conclusion, Arya and Brienne shows us that while tomboyism might be slightly accepted in children in Westeros, all proper ladies are expected to conform to gender norms and heterosexuality in the end. To not do that might lead to extreme sexual violence. Now, as I stated before, I have not focused a great deal on what Arya and Brienne’s gender identities are. I might analyse that sometime in the future, but for now I wanted to focus on how other people perceive them, and what consequences that has. While I don’t necessarily consider them to be trans in the sense that they identify as another gender than they were assigned at birth (although this could be a valid read!), I think that many of their experiences are shared with trans and gender nonconforming folx. So while I’m not saying that their experience in the patriarchy is worse than that of feminine women like Sansa (because her experience definitely sucks), I wanted to highlight how it is terrible in a specific way because of their position as masculine women and “gender outlaws”. So, basically, fuck the patriarchy.

   References:

Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer

Girls Gone Canon. 2018. Patreon episode 3: Every Day is Halloween. 31st October, 2018. https://www.patreon.com/join/girlsgonecanon/checkout?rid=2792766&redirect_uri=%2Fposts%2Fpatreon-episode-22407567

Halberstam, Judith 1998. Female Masculinity. Durham, N.C.: Duke Univ. Press.

Halberstam, Judith. 2005. In a Queer Time and Place. New York: New York University Press.

Maester Monthly. 2017. MM3 The Women of Westeros. 20th April, 2017. https://maestermonthly.wordpress.com/2017/04/20/maester-monthly-episode-three-the-women-of-westeros/

Martin, George RR. 2011a. A Game of Thrones. London: Harper Voyager.

Martin, George RR. 2011b. A Clash of Kings. London: Harper Voyager.

Martin, George RR. 2011c. A Storm of Swords 1: Steel and Snow. London: Harper Voyager

Martin, George RR. 2011d. A Feast for Crows. New York: Bentam Books.

trebutchettully. 2014. [untitled] https://asoiafuniversity.tumblr.com/post/79462577814/trebuchettully-asongofshipsandfeels

[lo-lynx]

Laurits/Loki as a queer character in Netflix’s Ragnarok

Spoilers for season one of Netflix’s show Ragnarok!

I binged the first season of the Netflix show Ragnarok yesterday, and felt compelled to write something about it. This is somewhat hastely written, so I apologise if the arguments are not as well thought out as they could be, but I wanted to write something. So here we go:

In the Netflix show Ragnarok we meet the two brothers Magne and Laurits as they move to the Norwegian town of Edda with their mother (Ragnarok 2020a). The audience and the characters soon realise that this town is not quite normal, and something mysterious is afoot… It becomes clear that Magne has been bestowed with some sort of magical powers and has been put in the role of Thor in the battle between Norse gods and giants. However, it is less clear what role Laurits is supposed to play. In this text I will claim that he is the Loki to Magne’s Thor, and that is especially interesting in regards to the queerness of his character.  

So, first of all, why do I think Laurits is Loki? I think the first point that should be made here is his and Magne’s physical descriptions.

Here we see Laurits sitting furthest to the left, with a green jacket, and Magne sitting to the right of him (with blue jeans and a red t-shirt). Magne and Laurits very much look like how one would imagine Thor and Loki, especially a contemporary audience who has seen the Marvel version of them:

But even beyond Laurits’ looks and brotherly relation to the Thor character, there are parallels between Loki and Laurits. There is his slightly deceptive and trickster like nature, such as when he plays pranks on Magne (for instance by messing up his essay for class when he was supposed to look over the spelling) (Ragnarok 2020a, 22 min). Then there’s also his affinity with the Jutul family, who are actually giants (the name seems to be a play on the old Norse word for giants, jǫtunn). The Loki of Norse myth is often associated with giants as well and might be giant or half-giant (Hume 2019). In the series it is also hinted at several times that Laurits has some sort of magical connection to the giants, for instance at the school dance (Ragnarok 2002b, 31 min). It is also hinted at that the father of the Jutul family, Vidar, has had an affair with Laurits’ mother Turid previously (for example: Ragnarok 2002b, 11:30 min). This makes me wonder if Laurits’ parents are in fact Turid and Vidar, making him half giant… If that is the case, he would have a sort of double cultural heritage, that of humans and that of giants.

Another cultural aspect that is interesting to look at is the parallels between the Loki of myth and the culture of the indigenous Sámi people in northern Scandinavia and Russia (Laidoner 2012). For one, the land of the giants seems to somewhat resemble the description of the Sámi peoples land, in regards to geographical location (north, on the borderlands). Similar to how Sámi was (and are) seen as “other” by Scandinavian people, so were the jǫtunn seen by the æsir (the gods). Laidoner also sees parallels between Loki and historical Sámi shamanism (noadi). She writes:

Loki’s potential links to the cultural world of the Sámi might perhaps first and foremost lie in his combination of being both a jǫtunn and (possibly) an áss and the fact that he seems to lack a home and a clear cultural background (…). This certainly makes him a very untrustworthy outsider among the æsir who, irrespective of the fact that their own ancestry goes back to the jǫtnar, frequently show hostility towards them. Loki’s jǫtunn background, and the possible connection between the Sámi and the jǫtnar whose headquarters seem to have been placed in an area that corresponded to the Sámi territories, allow us to place the focus of the following discussion on Loki’s potential affiliation with Sámi culture, where ideas of symbolic soul travels, cosmic oppositions and ambiguity seem to form a natural part of human existence, something most clearly reflected in the noaidi-tradition. It is difficult to overlook the fact that many dualistic ideas of the same kind are also embodied in the Loki figure. Besides being borderline jǫtunn and áss, a curious relic of Loki’s possible connection to the Sámi-world can perhaps be found in his everpresent duality. This duality is shown in several contrasting qualities, such as existing in both male and female form and being a father and a mother, representing aspects of both good and evil (to the extent that such clear distinctions existed in pre-Christian times), being a causer and resolver of problems, a thief and a bringer of valuable objects, all of which again seems to be in accordance with the functions of a noaidi. (Laidoner 2012, 69)

So, as we can see, Loki crosses borders between both cultures and genders, and both of these aspects make him seem untrustworthy. We can also see a parallel here to how indigenous people have been seen and are seen still today. Now, to return to Laurits, we can see some of these aspects here. Laurits move between different worlds, from the luxury of the Jutuls and the popular kids at school, to his rather less glamorous home-life. As I mentioned above, I also think there’s a possibility of him being half Jutul. But he also most definitely plays with gender borders.

I have previously written on this blog about characters moving between genders, for instance regarding Varys in ASOIAF/GoT and Alex in the “Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard” series by Rick Riordan. As mentioned in the latter text, in that story Loki is presented as genderfluid for similar reasons as I outlined above with his changing of sex/gender. In the analysis of Varys, I wrote about how he was perceived as a transgressor of both borders of gender and ethnicity, with being a eunuch from “the East”. (I there relied on texts about the historical eunuchs in for instance Ancient Greece (Llewyn-Jones 2002; Nikoloutsos 2008)). Similar to what Laidoner writes about Loki, one can see that the fluidity of Varys is connected to his movement between different gender expressions as well as cultures. Here I want to briefly touch on some more theoretical background that might be useful when understanding the crossing of borders with gender and ethnicity. Emma Bond writes about the experiences of trans people who also crosses borders of nations, and how they are seen as transgressors in double ways (2018, 71). She further writes that those who permanently inhabit this liminal space between borders, this site is often experienced as a place of alienation and violence (2018, 97). So, throughout these different examples we can see that people who cross borders of gender and ethnicity are seen as suspicious, and perhaps doubly queer (in the sense of non-conformity to norms of sex/gender/sexuality, which is of course also bound up with norms of ethnicity).

In the show, Laurits is seen crossing gender borders several times. One clear example is during the school dance, where he shows up with eyeliner, skinny jeans, and his mother’s old shirt (Ragnarok 2020b, 22:30 min). At the same dance it becomes clear that he has somewhat of a crush on the popular boy Fjor Jotul (who might be his half-brother if my theory is correct… but I’m also not sure if the Jutul family is actually related in the way they claim…) (Ragnarok 2020b, 24:36 min). This is of course also a break with gender norms, that dictate that men should be attracted to women. Then in the last episode of season one Laurits shows up to the school’s celebration of the national day dressed as the school’s headmistress Ran Jutul to mock and criticise her (Ragnarok 2020c, 31:40 min). Here he cross-dresses, perhaps in a similar way as the mythological Loki has done at times. He also plays the role of the trickster very well. Throughout the season it has been somewhat unclear on whose side he is on, but here at the end he helps the “good guys” (mainly his brother), but of course in a mocking manner. This illuminates the dualistic nature of Loki that Laidoner describes (2012).

Overall, Laurits can be seen as portraying several aspects of Loki. He is a trickster, but also a somewhat fluid character in regards to his heritage/culture and gender/sexuality. He moves between different spaces, inhabiting the liminal space between borders of good/evil, feminine/masculine, etc. This portrayal of a queer character is very interesting, and I hope in the event that the show is renewed for a second season it will explore this further. I should however mention the risk of showing a queer character as a deceiver, this could of course play into stereotypes about queer and/or trans characters. This is something that I write about in the previously mentioned text about Alex from the Magnus Chase novels. But I also think this can be portrayed well and interestingly if the audience is shown a contrast between how Laurits is perceived and who he is. A similar element was most definitely present with Magne in season one. So overall, this portrayal of a queer Laurits/Loki is quite interesting and promising.

 References

Bond, Emma. 2018. Writing Migration through the Body. Springer: Cham

Hume, Kathryn. 2019. “Loki and Odin: Old Gods Repurposed by Neil Gaiman, A. S. Byatt, and Klas Östergren.” Studies in the Novel, (51)2: 237-308.

Laidoner, Triin. “The Flying Noaidi of the North: Sámi Tradition Reflected in the Figure Loki Laufeyjarson in Old Norse Mythology.” Scripta Islandica 63 (2012): 59–91.

Llewellyn-Jones, Lloyd. 2002. “Eunuchs and the royal harem in Achaemenid Persia (559-331 BC)”, in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, ed. Tougher, Shaun, 19-50. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

Nikoloutsos, Konstantinos P. 2008. ”The Alexander Bromance: Male Desire and Gender Fluidity in Oliver Stone’s Historical Epic.” Helios, (35)2: 223-251

Ragnarok. 2020a. New Boy. [TV-show] Netflix, 31st of January.

Ragnarok. 2020b. 541 Meters. [TV-show] Netflix, 31st of January.

Ragnarok. 2020c. Yes, we love this country. [TV-show] Netflix, 31st of January.

[lo-lynx]

Why you gotta go and make things so political?

Feminists and likeminded folx are quite often accused of bringing politics into things unnecessarily. We are accused of being a killjoy, of ruining family dinners by disagreeing with the racist relative, etc. In the words of feminist theorist Sara Ahmed: “We become the problem by describing the problem.” (2017, 39). I’ve certainly done my fair deal of killing joy, both in life in general, and on this blog in specifically. Here I’ve brought politics into the Harry Potterbooks, A Song of Ice and Fire, His Dark Materials, etc (...several times for all of those). So why do I, and so many others insist on doing this? Well, that’s what I’m going to try to explain in this text.

From a more academic/scholarly point of view, a lot of different fields analyse gender, sexuality, ethnicity, class etc in works of fiction. For instance, Swedish literary and art scholars Linda Fagerström and Maria Nilsson writes this about analysing gender in mass media:

Every Swedish consumer of media consumes around six hours of media each day. Therefore, it is not surprising that media has a big influence on us. Our values and views on things like our rights and responsibilities in a democratic society are impacted by this. It is therefore central to ask how media portrays for instance men and women. It is highly likely that we are impacted by these portrayals, and the values that they carry with them. (2008, 25) [My translation]

Furthermore, as literary scholar Rita Felski writes, “(…) trying to hold literature and the social world apart is a Sisyphean task: however valiantly critics try to keep art pure, external meanings keep seeping in.” (2003, 12). As she also points out, many literary critics try to look at the context in which a literary work was written, why would that not involve analysing for instance gender? (ibid, 14). I could of course cite countless more texts that say similar things, but the point is that scholars from several different fields agree that gender and other social categories should be analysed in media, partly because they always influence media and partly because media influences us, the consumers.

Now, I want to look at a slightly different point. In the text that I previously cited by Rita Felski, she also writes about why critics might be hesitant to analyse specifically gender:

Yet if bringing in social contexts and meanings is part of business as usual in literary critics, why is there so much fuss about expanding this framework to include gender? One reason, I think, lies in the current challenge to the universality of art. This is the sticking point, the place where traditional critics and feminist critics often seem to be speaking different languages. While scholars have often looked at the social conditions that shape literature, they have also believed that it transcends those conditions. Great art speaks beyond its time and place; and, what is more, it speaks to everybody. Defying details of history and context, gender, ethnicity, or creed, it embodies quintessential truths. Literature is universal because it speaks to a common, shared humanity. Feminists, however, often have a hard time with this universality. They point to a very long history of equating the male with the universal and seeing the female as the special case. (2003, 14)

Now, Felski is of the opinion that art/literature can transcend its context, while it is still important to analyse that context. But what I want to focus on is this idea that by bringing in gender (or sexuality, race, ability etc) one disturbs the idea of universality. As Felski writes, many feminists have critiqued this idea. It is also a central part in what is often called “feminist science critique” (Grahm & Lykke 2015, 78). One aspect of this is questioning the idea that the male is universal and neutral. For example, researchers have noted that medical research often uses male patients, which skews results (ibid, 80). In the case of heart disease research, this has led to researchers missing differences in symptoms between men and women, leading to treatment not working optimally. Other gender researchers have argued for research (in this case mostly in social sciences and humanities) to have its starting point with those least privileged, not the opposite (ibid, 82). Yet again other researchers, perhaps most famously Donna Haraway, argue that it is important to be critical of the idea of the objective scientist (ibid, 87). Is it possible to be completely objective when we are all part of the world that we study? Haraway would say no, therefore the scientist must always consider their own position and how that might affect their analysis.

This transitions me into my next question: what is neutral and apolitical? In her book “Feminist theory: from margin to center” bell hooks writes that oftentimes white women presume that their experience (as women) is universal, and that political reforms that benefit them will benefit all women (1984, 2). She further points out that when black women have questioned this, they have been seen as a problem, a threat to the unity of feminist sisterhood. So, just as science and research oftentimes have a male bias, feminism has a white (and heterosexual, cisgender, middleclass, able bodied etc) bias. What we can learn from these perspectives then, is that what is deemed universal and neutral seems to be that which applies to the groups in society that has the most power. But what we can also learn is that when such norms are questioned, those doing the questioning are seen as the ones being political and/or a problem. As if it’s more political to argue for change than to argue for the status quo. Once again, I want to return to what Sara Ahmed writes: “when you expose a problem you pose a problem” (2017, 37). By not keeping quiet about what you perceive as an injustice you cause a scene, you make everyone uncomfortable by making them consider the political implications of what is being said, you become the problem. Not ignoring the problem or shrugging it off has consequences: “by not doing something we will be perceived as doing too much.” (Ahmed 2017, 36)

So, this is why I keep on insisting on being political. Because I believe that we can see our social world reflected in the fictional worlds we consume. Because I believe that those fictional worlds influence our social world(s). Because I believe that our social world is inherently political, and to ignore that is to assume that the status quo is neutral. Now, you don’t have to agree with my views or my analysis! But I’ll keep on writing them down. As Sara Ahmed writes, sometimes when you speak up you will cause unhappiness (2017, 258). People will label you as a killjoy, the bringer of unhappiness. Yet we must persist in pointing out these problems, and support others who do, because:

Audre Lord once wrote ‘Your silence will not protect you’ (1984a, 41). But your silence could protect them. And by them I mean: those who are violent, or those who benefit in some way from silence about violence. The Killjoy is testimony. (Ahmed 2017, 260)

My point is not that you must share my every opinion. Rather, my point is that not taking a stance is not neutral. Of course, no one has the energy to stand on the barricades of every cause all the time. That would be exhausting. I’m not advocating for that. I just want people to realise that most everything in life is political in some way, and to deny that is political as well. Sorry. So, yeah, I’ll keep on being political.

References

Ahmed, Sara. 2017. Living a Feminist Life. Durham: Durham University Press

Fagerström, Linda & Maria Nilsson. 2008. Genus, medier och masskultur. Malmö: Gleerup

Felski, Rita. 2003. Literature after Feminism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press

Grahm, Jessica & Nina Lykke. 2015. “Ontologi och epistemologi i feministiskt tänkande”, in Feministiskt tänkande och sociologi: Teorier, begrepp och tillämpningar, eds Hedenius, Anna, Sofia Björk & Oksana Shmulyar Gréen, 77-95. Lund: Studentlitteratur AB

hooks, bell. Feminist Theory from Margin to Center. Boston: South End press.

 Note: I used the Grahm and Lykke text here because I happened to have that book on hand. If anyone wants a source in English about feminist science critique, I can recommend looking up work by for instance Sandra Harding, Lynda Birke, Karen Barad, and Donna Haraway.

[lo-lynx]

Lost manhood: analysing the eunuch’s masculinity in A Song of Ice and Fire

Note: This is a partly rewritten paper that I wrote for a university course. I’m quite happy with it to be honest, and I thought more ASOIAF fans might enjoy it. I’ve attempted to make the language slightly more accessible and removed some of the parts of the explanations of the story because I here assume that people have read the novels. I’ve previously written a similar analysis about eunuchs in ASOIAF, but this one goes much deeper. So, hang on, this is quite a long one (puns not intended).

 “No one loves a eunuch.” (Martin 2011a, 609). So states Varys the eunuch, in A Game of Thrones. The five (as of yet published) books in the A Song of Ice and Fire series tell a story of war, love, and power and are set in a mostly medieval world. A medieval world which also happens to contain dragons and magic. But as Shiloh Carroll writes in her analysis of medievalism in the novels: “(...) A Song of Ice and Fire examines contemporary concerns or anxieties while placing them in a far-distant past, allowing the reader to consider them at a distance.” (Carroll 2018, 7). This can, for instance, be seen in how George RR Martin has said that he believes that most people of the Middle Ages were not very different from people of today when it comes to love, sex, and sexuality (ibid, 83). While scholars and students of gender and sexuality would most likely disagree (see my previous text, or just later in this one), Martin’s statement seems in line with the idea of looking at contemporary concerns through another lens. Based on the novels, it is also clear that Martin has been influenced by several different historical and cultural contexts, from Celtic history to Mediterranean Mythology and beyond (ibid 109). Fans of the books have also compiled several more of Martin’s stated historical influences from Scottish history, to Alexander the Great, the Mongols, and the Vietnam war (glass_table_girl 2014).With this amalgamation of different historical perspectives, it is interesting to look at how one aspect of the power dynamics in this series is portrayed: namely gender power dynamics, and more specifically masculinity.

 The world of A Song of Ice and Fire is a deeply patriarchal one, with most of the people in power being men (Carroll 2018, 56). But throughout the series, it is also clear that not all men in this world are equal, just as in our own. In this paper, I want to analyze how one of the men who are not as highly regarded in the series is portrayed, namely the eunuchVarys, mentioned above. (It should be noted that in this context, eunuch seems to mean someone who has had both their penis and testicles removed. On one occasion Varys mentions being cut “root and stem” (Martin 2011b, 584).) Varys holds the position of Master of Whispers in the Seven Kingdoms, a position that entails keeping a network of spies through the kingdom and beyond (Martin 2011a, 166). Because of this web of informants, he is also often called the Spider. The Seven Kingdoms encompasses the continent of Westeros and might be said to be a parallel to the United Kingdom of our world, or Europe generally (Carroll 2018, 109). Varys, however, comes from the city-state of Lys in the continent Essos. Essos seems to be inspired by different parts of Asia, and the Westerosi perspective on it is similar to the European perception of “the Orient” (Carroll 2018, 109). As both a foreigner, a eunuch, and a Master of Spies Varys is mistrusted by most characters in the novels (for example: Martin 2011a, 246).  By a close reading of three different scenes where Varys is present, I want to analyze how his gender is perceived by other characters and what that can tell us about how masculinity is constructed in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire.

 In analyzing Varys, I will use several theoretical perspectives that I will present here. Firstly, I will look at how eunuchs have been viewed in our world historically. Konstantinos P. Nikoloutsos writes that Greek writers of the classical period often viewed eunuchs with contempt (2008, 232). Oftentimes eunuchs were associated with Eastern cultures, such as Persia. They were generally seen as feminine, submissive, and sexually available yet also sexually passive. That might sound counterintuitive, but what it means is that according to the sexual conventions of the time, a eunuch could participate in intercourse but not be the active part. As Nikoloutus writes of the norms of sexuality during that time:

In fifth- and fourth-century Athenian literature, sex is discussed in connection with the issue of age, class, gender, and power. In our male-authored texts, sexual intercourse is perceived as an act that reflects (or should reflect) the hierarchical structure of society; as such, it involves a penetrator (i.e. an adult male citizen) and a penetrated other who could be a woman, a slave, a metic (i.e. a non-citizen resident), a prostitute, or a kinaidos (i.e. an effeminate man who preferred the passive role in sexual intercourse). According to the moralizing discourses of ancient Athenians, a freeborn man who wished to retain his claim to full masculine status should always seek to play the active/insertive role while having sex with other men. (Nikoloutus 2008, 230)

By being assigned the passive role in sexual intercourse the eunuch is therefore seen as less of a man. The eunuch could also be seen as a liminal figure, neither man nor woman, neither Western nor Eastern. In a way he inhabited a third gender space. By inhabiting this transgressive role, he was also able to move between female and male spaces (Llewellyn-Jones 2002, 37). This could make him useful at court, as he became privy to the intrigue of the private female sphere and could pass on that information to the public male sphere. Other authors have noted how in many societies, while eunuchs were useful figures at court, they were outsiders as well in the sense that they often had a different ethnicity (Tougher 2002, 149). For instance, in the late Roman empire eunuchs were not allowed to be created in the empire, but allowance was made for “importation of castrated barbarians” (ibid, 144). The eunuch is here constructed as something “other” than the own population, the “us” part of the “us vs them” equation. This association with what was consider the ethnic “other” (particularly the Eastern other) with femininity and sexual promiscuity and/or deviance has striking similarities with orientalism. The term orientalism describes how western cultures have traditionally described the people of “the Orient” as emasculated, lesser, savage, barbaric, sexually depraved, etc. (Carroll 2018, 107, 119 & 121). Dehumanization of people who are considered “other” can be seen with other groups of people who transgress societal borders as well, such as trans people. Susan Stryker writes that transsexual people are often seen as monstrous, similar to for instance Frankenstein’s monster (1994). Eva Hayward compares the trans experience with that of the spider, partly because they are both looked upon with both curiosity and distrust (2010). But she also writes that similarly to the spider’s web, transsexuality can be seen as a creating a home of one’s own body. Making a home where one is not intended to exist, but that becomes a home nonetheless.

 In modern time the role of the penis in the construction of masculinity, that can be seen with eunuchs of more ancient times, persists. Anne Fausto-Sterling writes that even though medical professionals are often aware of the fact that it is possible for children to be born with sex characteristics that fall outside of the male/female binary, these so-called intersex children will often be “corrected” by surgery (1995, 130). It should be noted that a lot of activists oppose these types of surgeries (for example: Amnesty 2017). Fausto-Sterling further analyses how in medical literature a so-called normal penis is often considered crucial for boys (1995, 130). When a child is born, if that child’s penis is considered too small the penis will often be turned into a clitoris, and a vagina will be created. The child will then be raised as girl. The existence of a phallus that is large enough is seen as crucial for boyhood and manhood:

All this surgical activity goes on to ensure a congruous and certain sex of assignment and sex of rearing. During childhood, the medical literature insists, boys must have a phallus large enough to permit them to pee standing up, thus allowing them to “feel normal” when they play in little boys’ peeing contests. In adulthood, the penis must become large enough for vaginal penetration during intercourse. (...) At birth then, masculinity becomes a social phenomenon. For proper masculine socialization to occur, the little boy must have a sufficiently large penis. (Fausto-Sterling 1995, 131)

Here again, the existence of a penis is connected not only to masculinity but also sexuality. Having penetrative sex (and being the one penetrating) is linked to proper manhood. Similarly, Karioros and Allan write that the testicles are often linked to masculinity (for example by phrases like “grow a pair”), but also virility (2017).  They also write that because of this, castration is often linked with a fear of losing one's masculinity. Here we can see a connection between masculinity, sexuality, and fatherhood as well. Other authors have also noted this link, for instance in regards to how the inability to father children might feel like a threat to one’s masculinity (Thorsby & Gill 2004).

 The theme of sexuality and masculinity is one that Stephen Whitehead also writes about when he analyses masculine embodiment (2002). Whitehead writes that is that what is considered to male not just determined by biology but is also dependent on the discourse around sex/gender (ibid, 186). What he means by that is that how a “male body” should look and behave is not just innate, it depends on how expectations from society. Furthermore, the way that the masculine subject experiences their own body depends on what is generally expected of the male body, mainly for it be strong, tough and in control of physical space (ibid, 189). This can be seen as a contrast of the expected feminine embodiment, which is generally expected to be timid, careful, and restricted. Whitehead further describes how bodies (regardless of gender) are regulated through the panoptic gaze (ibid, 194). He borrows this term from Foucault to describe how we in modern society are constantly under surveillance, to the degree that we subconsciously regulate our own behavior.  Whitehead then goes on to show how this panoptic gaze can be extra harsh on some bodies (such as for people of color), subverted by some (such as gay men), and be different during the lifespan. Regarding aging male bodies he writes that with age many cannot live up to the ideal of having a strong and active body, and many lose sexual confidence at this time as well (ibid, 200). Here we once again see the theme of connecting masculinity to an active sexuality.  

 The analysis of the scenes with Varys from A Song of Ice and Fire will be presented below in a thematic fashion, but for context I will provide a brief overview of them here. The first scene is from the first novel, A Game of Thrones, from the point of view of Catelyn Stark when she arrives in Kings Landing (Martin 2011a, 165-169). There she meets the Master of Coin Petyr Baelish as well as Varys himself. This is the first time Varys appears on page, even though he has been mentioned before. The second scene occurs later in the same book, from the point of view of Hand of the King Eddard “Ned” Stark who has been imprisoned, accused of treason (Martin 2011a, 608-613). Varys shows up in his cell, disguised as a gaoler, and they discuss the future. The third scene is in the next book, A Clash of Kings, where the new Hand of the King Tyrion Lannister and Varys discuss politics and power (Martin 2011b, 117-122). This scene is from Tyrion’s point of view.

 In the first scene where the reader sees Varys he is described thusly:

The man who stepped through the door was plump, perfumed, powered, and as hairless as an egg. He wore a vest of woven gold thread over a loose gown of purple silk, and on his feet were pointed slippers of soft velvet. (...) His flesh was soft and moist, and his breath smelled of lilacs. (Martin 2011a, 167)

In the scene with Tyrion in A Clash with Kings he is described similarly, this time as having flowing lavender colored robes and smelling of lavender (Martin 2011b, 117). In both these occasions his appearance seems somewhat feminine, with flowing robes and flower scents. It is also interesting to note how his mannerisms are described. In the scene from A Game of Thrones it is described how he “giggled like a little girl” (Martin 2011a, 168). Later he handles a knife “with exaggerated delicacy” and when he still cuts himself on it, he lets out a squeal (ibid). In the scene from A Clash with Kings he is described first as “gliding into the hall”, and then he “tittered nervously” when questioned by Tyrion (Martin 2011b, 117). Later he is also described as giggling nervously (ibid, 121). Throughout this scene his reactions and speech generally seem exaggeratedly emotional, almost theatrical. One example is when Tyrion confronts him about not telling him about Tyrion’s sister’s involvement in the killing of the former king Robert’s bastard children:

‘Your own sweet sister,’ Varys said, so grief-stricken that he looked close to tears. ‘It is a hard thing to tell a man, my lord, I was fearful how you might take it. Can you forgive me?’ (Martin 2011b, 117)

His mannerisms throughout these two scenes seem careful, delicate, and emotional. This is somewhat of a contrast to how he is described in the scene with Eddard Stark from A Game of Thrones. Here some of the same language is present; Varys is described as speaking sadly and sighing (Martin 2011a, 609-610). But Eddard also notes how he seems blunter than usual. His appearance is the most different though, here he has disguised himself:

The eunuch’s plump cheeks were covered with a dark stubble of beard. Ned felt the course hair with his fingers. Varys had transformed himself into a grizzled turnkey, reeking of sweat and sour wine. (Martin 2011a, 609)

Here Eddard sees how Varys has changed himself from his usual plump and feminine self, into an unwashed gruff gaelor. Seeing this disguise might hint that Varys usual appearance, with his theatrics, is a disguise as well. I will return to this notion later.

 From these scenes we can see that Varys usually seems to dress in a slightly feminine manner. His mannerisms seem feminine too, if one considers what Whitehead writes about feminine and masculine embodiment (2002, 189). Feminine embodiment is described there as timid and more restricted, while masculine embodiment is described as tough and in control of physical space. With his nervous tittering, exaggerated delicacy etc., Varys most definitely appears more feminine than masculine. All of this also seems in line with how eunuchs were described being feminine and submissive in antiquity (Nikoloutus 2008). Varys’ clothing is also interesting from this point of view; having a loose silk gown, a golden vest, and pointed slippers he fits in well with the idea of the eunuch from as an “Eastern” figure. This, of course, also makes sense since he comes from the continent of Essos that seems inspired by such real-life cultures. Based on his appearance one can then see how he is both perceived as feminine and “Eastern”, which was how eunuchs were seen in for example ancient Greece. However, it is also worth noting how this is similar to the orientalist view of men from “the Orient” as being emasculated/effeminate (Carroll 2018, 107).

 Another way Varys can be considered to be emasculated is of course in regard to his lack of genitalia. In all of the scenes I am analyzing it is mentioned that he is a eunuch, which makes it seem like this is central in people’s perception of him (Martin 2011a, 166 & 609; Martin 2011b, 120). In the scene with Eddard, Varys says that he swears upon his lost manhood that he is telling the truth (Martin 2011a, 613). This is an interesting turn of phrase since it directly links the removal of his genitalia with masculinity. However, it is in the scene with Tyrion that this issue is discussed most thoroughly. Tyrion says:

‘People have called me halfman too, yet I think the gods have been kinder to me. I am small, my legs are twisted, and women do not look upon me with any great yearning… yet I’m still a man. Shae is not the first to grace my bed, and one day I may take a wife and sire a son. (...) You have no such hope to sustain you. Dwarfs are a jape of the gods… but men make eunuchs.’ (Martin 2011b, 120)

Here Tyrion explicitly links having a penis with being a man. He seems to specifically connect being a man to having sex with women and fathering children. This is in line with what Fausto-Sterling writes about how having a large enough penis is considered crucial for masculine socialization, partly so the man can have penetrative sex with women (1995). It is also similar to the view of Ancient Greece, where being the penetrator in sexual intercourse was very important for one’s masculinity. However, unlike those times it seems that in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire it also important for one’s sexual partner to specifically be a woman, not simply any person below oneself in social standing. One can also note how fatherhood seems important to masculinity, which Thorsby and Gill write about as well (2004). That losing one’s manhood means losing one’s masculinity makes sense in relation to Karioris and Allen’s article, where they write that the testicles is seen as the seat of masculinity (2017). They also note how the testicles are connected to virality. All in all, it seems clear that partly why the penis and testicles are important to masculinity both in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire and our own is because of their perceived necessity for (penetrative) heterosexual sex and fatherhood. For someone to be counted as a real man they apparently have to take part in those practices. This is why Tyrion claims that he is still a man, and that Varys is not. Tyrion’s comparison of himself and Varys is furthermore interesting in other ways. It is clear when Tyrion refers to himself as a “halfman” he believes that his disability is an obstacle to him completely inhabiting a masculine subject position. As Whitehead writes, masculine embodiment is often expected to mean toughness and being in control of physical space. Tyrion describes himself as small and with twisted legs, and one can assume that this makes harder for him to live up to those ideals. However, since he can still have heterosexual sex and father children, he counts himself as a man. This emphasizes how important sexuality and virality is in the construction of masculinity.

 The last theme that I want to touch upon is how Varys seems to be mistrusted and ill liked. In Catelyn’s chapter in A Game of Thrones she reflects on how she does not trust him, and how Varys’ ability to find out information disconcerts her (Martin 2011a, 167-168). In Eddard’s chapter later in the novel Varys points out himself how “no one loves a eunuch” (ibid, 609). However, he then says that “A eunuch has no honor, and a spider does not enjoy the luxury of scruples, my lord.” (ibid 610). This provides somewhat of an insight into his political strategy, while also making it seem wise to mistrust him. In the chapter with Tyrion in A Clash of Kings Varys makes a similar statement: “Spiders and informers are seldom loved, my lord.” (Martin 2011b, 120.) So, as a eunuch and a spy Varys is mistrusted and unloved. That he occupies the role of a spy is interesting in relation to what Llewellyn-Jones writes about the role eunuchs historically could have at court (2002). Those eunuchs could move between the private (feminine) sphere and the public (masculine) sphere, and therefore inform those in powers of courtly intrigue. This seems similar to what Varys does. A reoccurring theme for him, then, seems to be the transgression of borders. From private/feminine to public/masculine spaces, from feminine to masculine embodiment, from East to West. Perhaps, similarly to how eunuchs were regarded with contempt in Ancient Greece because of their transgressive position, this explains part of the reason why Varys is disliked. The fact that he is called “the Spider” also hints to him not quite being considered human. This is similar to how both Stryker and Hayward describe the way trans people are often perceived (1994; 2010). Similarly to how Hayward describes how the spider is looked upon with both curiosity and disgust, this seems to be how Varys the spider is seen. Furthermore, similarly to Hayward’s description Varys seems to create a place for himself through his spider web. However, there are some complications to simply reading him as a trans character. For one, it is very unclear how Varys considers his gender himself, the reader only gets descriptions of him from other characters’ points of view. But while it is unclear how he identifies; the way other characters see him seems similar to attitudes trans people might face. His, in their eyes, unclear gender and sex makes him seem slippery and unlikable. This ties back to the idea of eunuchs being seen with contempt because of their liminal character.

 Perhaps one strategy that Varys uses to counter the disadvantage of his position as a eunuch is to play into it. Earlier I noted that his feminine mannerisms seemed almost theatrical, and if he can disguise himself as a goalor, then perhaps his usual appearance is a disguise as well. As a spymaster he is most likely aware of how one’s every move might be watched, similarly to the panoptic gaze that Whitehead describes. This might have made him realize how important it is to control his own appearance etc. Varys might do something similar to how Whitehead writes that gay men might sometimes subvert the panoptic gaze on male bodies, by not conforming to the expectations of their embodiment (2002, 198). Varys seemingly conforms to the way eunuchs are expected to inhabit their bodies, but the reader cannot be sure if this is his “true” appearance or if he even has one. In this way he might be said to subvert the panoptic gaze by not simply conforming to the role of the effeminate and weak eunuch that his appearance might indicate but use this to his advantage. Furthermore, it seems useful for his position at court to both be able to move between different spaces with different disguises, and to use the idea of a eunuch as effeminate to seem less threatening in a patriarchal society.

 In conclusion then, Varys is considered less of a man because of his lack of “manhood”. In a world where sexuality and virality is intimately connected to masculinity, his perceived lack of those makes him no true man. Furthermore, his appearance and mannerisms seem more feminine than masculine. This, however, might be a strategy of his to seem less threatening in his position of Master of Spies. As he says himself, eunuchs and informants are seldom loved, so it might be beneficial for him to play into the role of the weak effeminate eunuch. Perhaps this also makes him able to move between differently gendered spaces, similarly to the eunuchs of antiquity. However, being the effeminate eunuch also seems part of what makes people distrust him. Him inhabiting the liminal space between borders of gender/sexuality and ethnicity, both spatially and with his embodiment, makes people vary of him. Is he a man or woman? Western or Eastern? Neither? But by destabilizing such borders, he also makes them visible. When the characters deem him less of a man for appearing feminine and lacking the body parts that would make him a man, it becomes clearer what requirements there are to be a man. Those seem to include a certain amount of toughness, active sexuality, and virality. Lacking both the set of genitalia that is deemed necessary to perform those actions and having the gendered perceptions of his ethnicity working against him, Varys cannot be perceived as a true man. But ultimately, this says more about how the society he lives in views masculinity.

 References

Amnesty International. (2017). “First, do no harm: ensuring the rights of children born intersex.” Accessed 1 December, 2019. https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/campaigns/2017/05/intersex-rights/

 Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer

 glass_table_girl. 2014. “(Spoilers All) A List of Things that GRRM Has Cited as Influences or Sources of Enjoyment”. Reddit, August 31, 2014.

https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/2f3wz9/spoilers_all_a_list_of_things_that_grrm_has_cited/

 Fausto-Sterling, Anne. 1995. “How to build a man”, in Constructing Masculinity, eds. Berger, Maurice, Brian Wallis and Simon Watson, 127-134. New York: Routledge.

 Hayward, Eva. 2010. “Spider city sex”, Women & Performance: a journal of feminist theory, 20(3):225-251

 Karioris, Frank G. and Jonathan A. Allan. 2017. “Grow a Pair! Critically Analyzing Masculinity and the Testicles.” Journal of Men’s Studies, 24(3): 245-261.

 Martin, George RR. 2011a. A Game of Thrones. London: Harper Voyager.

 Martin, George RR. 2011b. A Clash of Kings. London: Harper Voyager.

 Nikoloutsos, Konstantinos P. 2008. ”The Alexander Bromance: Male Desire and Gender Fluidity in Oliver Stone’s Historical Epic.” Helios, (35)2: 223-251

 Llewellyn-Jones, Lloyd. 2002. “Eunuchs and the royal harem in Achaemenid Persia (559-331 BC)”, in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, ed. Tougher, Shaun, 19-50. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

 Stryker, Susan. 1994. “My words to Victor Frankenstein above the village of Chamounix: Performing transgender rage” GLQ 1(3): 237-254

 Throsby, Karen & Rosalind Gill. 2004. ”It’s Different for Men: Masculinity and IVF.” Men and Masculinities, (6)4: 330-348

Tougher, Shaun. 2002. “In or out? Origins of court eunuchs.” in Eunuchs in antiquity and beyond, ed. Tougher, Shaun, 143-160. Swansea: The Classical Press of Wales.

 Whitehead, Stephen M. 2002. Men and Masculinities, Cambridge and Malden: Polity.

[lo-lynx]

Femininity in the Harry Potter books

I started writing this essay over a month ago, before (as it felt like) all hell broke loose regarding JK Rowling’s transphobic tweet. As a genderqueer person myself, her comments hurt. I have loved the Harry Potter novels since I was a teenager and have often found solace in both the magic of the story and the magic of the community around these books. So, in immediate aftermath of Rowling’s comments, I struggled with how to engage with this community and these books. At first, I really did not feel like continuing to write this analysis. Now, however, I felt like I at least owe it to my love of this series and fandom to finish it. So here we go:

Last year I wrote a post about how several of the villains in Harry Potter seem to be coded as queer. In that text I also wrote that I sometime would analyse the way femininity is portrayed in the Harry Potter books. Well, studying, work, and writing other stuff got in the way, but now I’m finally getting around to it! This post is definitely inspired by some of the conversations from the excellent podcast The Quibbler, where they lament some of descriptions of feminine characters in the books. So, shout out to them, do go check them out! In this analysis I’m going to lay out several different aspects of what I see as problematic portrayals of femininity in the Harry Potter books: the silly girls, the villainous feminine men, and the (queer coded) feminine evil women.

Now, I first want to focus on what I describe as “the silly girls”. When reading descriptions of girls in the Harry Potter novels, I can’t help seeing how many of them are portrayed in a way that Julia Serano might call “traditionally sexist” (2007, 326). Serano describes traditional sexism thusly:

Traditional sexism functions to make femaleness and femininity appear subordinate to maleness and masculinity. (…) For example, female and feminine attributes are regularly assigned negative connotations and meanings in our society. An example of this is the way that being in touch with and expressing one’s emotions is regularly derided in our society. (…) in the public mind, being “emotional” has become synonymous with being “irrational”. Another example is that certain pursuits and interests that are considered feminine, such as gossiping or decorating, are often characterised as “frivolous”, while masculine preoccupations- even those that serve solely recreational functions, such as sports- generally escape such trivialization. (Serano 2007, 326-327)

That is to say, that which is deemed feminine is seen as silly and irrational. Unfortunately this fits quite well with how a lot of the girls are portrayed in the novels, such as in the fourth novel before the Yule Ball: “Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night …” (Rowling 2000, 338) This motif of giggling girls returns many times, with Harry even thinking about Parvati that: “[He] was relieved to see that she wasn’t giggling.” (ibid 358) Speaking of Parvati, her and Lavender are continually portrayed as silly girls throughout the series, such as in this moment in Order of the Phoenix:

‘I’ll bet you wish you hadn’t given up on Divination now, don’t you Hermione?’ asked Parvati, smirking.

It was breakfast time, two days after the sacking of Professor Trelawney, and Parvati was curling her eyelashes around her wand and examining the effect in the back of her spoon. They were to have their first lesson with Firenze that morning.

‘Not really,’ said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. ‘I’ve never really liked horses.’

She turned a page of the newspaper and scanned its columns.

‘He’s not a horse, he’s a centaur!’ said Lavender, sounding shocked.

‘A gorgeous centaur…’ sighed Parvati. (Rowling 2004, 528)

Here Parvati and Lavender’s apparent crushes on Firenze is portrayed as silly, and their focus on their appearance is probably meant to be seen as frivolous. It is also starkly contrasted with Hermione’s apparent rationality, especially as she is sitting reading a newspaper in the scene.

Now, how about the men in the story, are they not portrayed negatively as well? Well, yes, of course. But when looking at some of the male “villains” of the story, many of them are described as quite feminine as well. In my previous text I noted how this was the case for Lockhart for example, who is described like this when the reader first meets him:

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue which exactly matched his eyes, his pointed wizard’s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. (Rowling 2010, 49)

Lockhart is here (and throughout Chambers of Secrets) described as both vain, and quite feminine with his stylish outfits. These traits are part of what marks him out as an unlikable character. I noted above how Julia Serano writes about traditional sexism that traits and interests that are deemed feminine (such as caring about clothes) are devalued. Serano also writes about oppositional sexism, which she describes as the idea feminine attributes are seen as natural in women, and unnatural in men (2007, 326). Similarly, Lockhart’s “feminine” seems to be perceived as abnormal/bad in the story.

Another male villain that is described as feminine is Quirrell. When Harry sees him at the welcoming feast in the first book, he is described like this: “Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.” (Rowling 1997, 134). Both the nervousness and the turban later turn out to be part of Quirrell’s disguise as one of Voldemort’s agents. The nervousness making him seem less capable of evil deeds, and the turban hiding the fact that Voldemort is living as a parasite on his head. Both of these disguises are interesting in relation to femininity though. Stephen Whitehead writes that as a man one is expected to embody strength, toughness and control over physical space (2002, 189). He contrasts this with how women are expected to embody caution, restraint etc. With Quirrell’s nervousness (and re-occurring stutter) it is quite clear that he comes off as more feminine than masculine. Another thing is this turban that he wears. Based on his physical description Quirrell seems to be a white Englishman (he is described as “pale” when he is first introduced) (Rowling 1997, 80). Later he claims that this turban was a gift from an African prince for helping him get rid of a zombie (ibid, 147). So, it seems established that this turban is seen as strange on him, and that is connected to Africa. The way this is described makes me think of orientalism. Now, what is orientalism? It is a term that is meant to describe the way Europeans have viewed “the Orient” historically and to this day. This often entails seeing people from this region as savage, sexually depraved, but also viewing the men as emasculated and week (Carroll 2018, 121). (I’m referencing this specific book because I happened to have it on hand, but a lot of different people have written on texts on this theme). In story, Quirrell claims that he (the white Englishman) got this turban as a gift from helping an African prince (it should be noted that “Africa” is very vague, I’m here choosing to see it as part of “the Orient”, but it’s not necessarily that). The other characters doubt this story, but it does tie in with the perception of “oriental” men as week (and in need of help). But Quirrell wearing a turban also ties him to this image, and perhaps makes him seem even more effeminate.

Finally, I want to touch on a theme that I wrote also about in the text about queer coded villains in the Harry Potter books, that of the female villains. Here I’ll focus on Dolores Umbridge and Rita Skeeter, and how their femininity is part of what is meant to make the reader think of them as bad. When we first meet Skeeter, she is described like this:

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two inch-nails, painted crimson. (Rowling 2000, 266)

So, the description makes her sound feminine, but there’s also something off with her rigid curls, heavy-jawed face, and long red nails. This reminds me of how feminist theorist Ulrika Dahl describes that being femme can be queer (2016). By doing femininity wrong, for instance in a way that is seen as trashy, one can come off queer. Another way of seeing this is to analyse the way that Umbridge is described:

She looked, Harry thought, as someone’s maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan that she wore over her robes. (Rowling 2004, 183)

I want to note two things here. Firstly, that she is described as a maiden aunt, that is a woman who is of an age where she should be married with children but are not. Clearly, she’s breaking the expected life pattern of a woman here. Secondly, the way her clothes are described makes her seem girlish, which is the same way her voice is described as on several occasions. Her appearance is not what is expected of a woman of her age. This puts me in mind of what Elizabeth Freeman describes as temporal drag (2000). Freeman writes that when we as children learn how to perform our gender properly, mainly by imitating our parents, we must also learn how to adapt this to our own time. So, while a woman is expected to learn from her mother how to be a woman, she cannot simply copy the mother’s look. Freeman points out that if she herself were to copy the way her own mother looked during Freeman’s childhood (ca 1970) she would not look normative at all. But we can play with this temporal crossing for queer effect if we wish. I do not think this is was Umbridge consciously does, but her femininity does have a somewhat queer effect because of the way it does not fit her age.

So, in conclusion, we can see that throughout the Harry Potter novels, several feminine characters are described in a negative way. Both “good” characters such as the silly girls, and more “evil” ones such as Lockhart, Quirrell, Skeeter, and Umbridge. These latter ones also have a somewhat queer coding. With Quirrell there is also a sort of racialised femininity, with the description of his turban. It is unfortunate that these characters are described this way, however, it rings true to negative stereotypes from our own world.

I’m not sure how to finish this analysis to be quite honest. It makes me sad to find all of these elements in the books that I have loved. But, to be quite honest, it’s possible problematic things in most works of fiction when you start looking. Nonetheless, this last month or so has been tough on my love of the Harry Potter novels and community. Going forward I want to try to focus on the more positive aspects of them, such as the magic this community makes together (while remembering the more negative things of course). I’m not sure how. But I felt like I had to get this text out there first. So here it is.

 References

Carroll, Shiloh. 2018. Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer.

Dahl, U. 2016. “Queering Femininity”. lambda nordica. 2016/1-2, pp. 7-20.

Freeman, Elizabeth. 2000. ’Packing History, Count(er)ing Generations’ New Literary History, 31(4): 727-744.

Rowling, J.K. 1997. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J. K. 1998. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J.K. 2000. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. London: Bloomsbury.

Rowling, J.K. 2004. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. London: Bloomsbury

Serano, Julia. 2007. Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity. Seal Press, San Francisco

Whitehead, Stephen M. 2002. Men and Masculinities, Cambridge and Malden: Polity.

[lo-lynx]

Power relations in His Dark Materials

TW: racism, eugenics, sexism, ableism

Spoiler warning: The main His Dark Materials novels, minor spoiler for La Belle Sauvage.

In the His Dark Materials novels power is a quite a central theme. Who has power, what do they do with that power, how can you fight power? This is of course also salient in our own world, which is why social theorists have been trying to explain power and power dynamics pretty much as long as social theory has existed. In this text I therefore want to look at some of these ways of explaining power and see if they can tell us anything about the universe of His Dark Materials (focusing on Lyra’s world). This will also dovetail with an analysis that I wrote a while back of the Nordic influences on His Dark Materials, especially regarding the history of racism and eugenics in Sweden and Scandinavia in general. Reading that text is not necessary to understand this one, but in the end of it I wrote:

Another thing I want to highlight is the comparison between the severing of children and dæmons, and sterilisation. In the books, children’s bond to their dæmons (their soul) are severed by the GOB [General Oblation Board] in order to prevent “Dust” settling on the children (Pullman 2007, 275). Dust is considered dangerous and sinful, something that according to the church started infecting humans after their fall from the garden of Eden. Sterilisation in our world, on the other hand, took place in order to make the population “cleaner” and of “better” stock. Groups who were in different ways considered degenerate were targeted, including women who were perceived as promiscuous/sexual transgressors. In Lyra’s world a spiritual connection is severed by the Church in order to curb sinfulness. In our world a biological connection is severed by “scientists” (in collaboration with the Church at times) to control sexuality and reproduction. There is a definite similarity here. (Lo-Lynx 2019)

In this text I want to further that argument by analysing the way sex, gender, sexuality and power functions in Lyra’s world. I want to thank the lovely gals over at Girls Gone Canon for helping inspire me to write both of these texts, and especially with this one because when Eliana mentioned Foucault in their latest episode a light went off in my head and I knew that I had to write this analysis (Girls Gone Canon 2019).

So, Foucault. Michel Foucault is perhaps one of the most influential theorists in contemporary social theory. His stuff props up everywhere. That unfortunately does not mean that it’s easy to understand. Here I want to explain some of his theories and concepts, and then apply them to the universe of His Dark Materials. One of the theoretical works that Foucault is most know for is his analysis of the history of sexuality (in the Western world) (2002). Foucault writes that contrary to the popular belief of sex being oppressed and tabu, people have always talked about sex, just not always outright. For instance, he writes about how admitting one’s sexual actions have become institutionalised first through confession (in church) and later by explaining ourselves to doctors/psychologists/scientists (Foucault 2002, 77). By confessing we feel that we become free, our secret truth has been let into the light. Foucault also claims that through these institutionalised confessions we contribute to the discourse about sex: “One pushes the sex into the light and forces it into discursive existence.” [my translation] (Foucault 2002, 56) Part of this discourse is that if we understand the “truth” about sex, we understand the truth about ourselves (Foucault 2002, 80). Sex is in this discourse considered a vital part of who we are. Now, what exactly does Foucault mean by discourse? Discourse, according to Foucault, describes the way society talks about a phenomenon but also how it does not talk about said phenomena (2008, 181). What is left unsaid. What is possible to say. Foucault also describes discourse analysis as a scientific method and claims that by analysing discourses one can understand why one statement was made in a situation, and not another one (2013, 31). He also claims that when we can see similarities between different statements, we can find a discursive formation (ibid, 40). Further he also writes that when analysing discourses, one should analyse who speaks (who has the authority to speak), from which institutions the discourse gains its legitimacy, and which subject positions individuals are placed in (ibid 55-57). Which position a subject is placed in effects their ability to inhabit different spaces (ibid, 58). Now, in his writing about discourses, Foucault mostly saw power as something unpersonal. Power existed in power relations between individuals in the discourse, and the discourse affected how individuals acted. Power as something unpersonal was a view that he kept, but in later writings he would analyse it further.

So, how does this apply to His Dark Materials? Like I explained previously, I see a definite parallel between how the Church/the Magisterium in Lyra’s world approach Dust, and how sex has been viewed in our world. The Church explains Dust by linking it to original sin. In their version of the Bible, when Adam and Eve eat from the apple of knowledge, they do not only become aware of their nakedness, their demons also settle (Pullman 2007, 358). And when demons settle (in puberty) Dust starts sticking to people. This can be compared to how the church of our world during the 5th century started propagating that the reason for human’s expulsion from the garden of Eden was because they had fallen prey to carnal desire (Mottier 2008, 19). Therefore, intercourse was tainted by original sin. In this way Dust is both linked to forbidden knowledge, sex, and sin. Like sex in our world, Dust is something that the Magisterium feel the need to investigate even though they find it dangerous and sinful (Pullman 2007, 361). If we use Foucault’s theory here, this is understandable. If Dust is a result of original sin, then it explains the inner nature of humans. Just as sex is considered to be a secret truth inside of us, Dust can be considered the same in Lyra’s world. Dust is something sinful, something that needs finding out, so it can be destroyed. But, when the scholars of Lyra’s world investigate Dust, they need to be careful to not commit heresy. I think heresy in this case could be considered to be the limit of the discourse. When scholars and others discuss matters of science and theology, they constantly need to act in relation to what would be considered heresy. Now, in our world the limits of discourse usually aren’t as overt, and at least in democratic countries you won’t be punished in the way the scholars risk being punished when they commit heresy. But in the way certain characters challenge the discourse around Dust, we can see what Foucault might call a discursive struggle. On one hand we have the discourse around Dust that gains its legitimacy from the Magisterium. On the other hand, we have challenges to this discourse from for instance Lord Asriel. He doesn’t have the same sort of legitimacy as the Magisterium of course, but in the beginning of The Golden Compass when he has his presentation at Jordan Collage, he tries to make his views legitimate by presenting scientific evidence (Pullman 2007, 26). Here one could say that he tries to appeal to the legitimacy of science, which seems appropriate when talking to scholars. Asriel here resist the power that be (the Magisterium), but he also resists the power in the discourse. Just as Foucault says, where there is power there is also resistance. It is through just these kinds of discursive struggles that Foucault sees society changing. Yet, the scholars of Jordan are notably scared of the Magisterium finding out about their part in this resistance. This leads us in to another theme in Foucault’s writings that I want to explain: surveillance.

One way that Foucault furthered his theoretical exploration of power was through did his writing on surveillance. He explains how surveillance works in modern society by likening it to a prison where one guard can observe all the prisoners from a guard tower, but where the prisoners can’t see the guard (Lindgren 2015, 357). Therefore they can never know when they are under surveillance. He calls this a panopticon, based on the description of such a prison by the philosopher Bentham. Foucault claims that the result of this is:

Hence the major effect of the Panopticon: to induce the inmate in a state of conscious and permanent visibility that assures the automatic functioning of power. So to arrange things that the surveillance is permanent in its effects, even if it is discontinuous in its action; that the perfection in power should render its actual exercise unnecessary… (Foucault 2012/1975: 315)

That is to say, the prisoner feels like they are constantly under surveillance, even if this is not actually the case. In that way the prisoner will obey the powers in charge, so that practical/physical power is not necessary. Foucault claims that this is the case in society as a whole; we know that we could be under surveillance all of the time, and therefore we behave in accordance with that (Lindgren 2015: 359). This turns us into docile bodies that can be used productively in society, since we unconsciously behave like the power wants us to (even when the power isn’t a clear individual or group). Other writers have also used Foucault’s theory on surveillance and his concept of docile bodies to analyse how this affects the gendered body, specifically the feminine body (Bartky 2010).

In Lyra’s world this surveillance is perhaps even more overt than in our world. People are seemingly very aware that their every move could be watched by the Magisterium. This theme is even more present in Pullman’s novel La Belle Sauvage that also takes place in Lyra’s world (Pullman 2017). I won’t spoil that novel too much, so I won’t go into that theme further now, but parts of it very much paints society as a panopticon. Now, what consequences does this have? Well, it mostly makes most people in Lyra’s world just go along with what the power wants. Some does it because they are aware of the constant surveillance, others have internalised this surveillance and does it unconsciously. One aspect of this that I want to explore further is the way it effects gender and gender expression in Lyra’s world. In the chapter in The Golden Compass when Lyra first meets Mrs Coulter, she contrasts Mrs Coulter to other women academics that she has met (Pullman 2007, 69). In comparison to them Mrs Coulter seems refined, glamorous, precisely what a woman in Lyra’s world should be. Women should be pretty, and, tellingly Lyra thinks the female scholars are both boring and less fashionable. The materiality of the body is here connected to other assumptions of gender, such as women scholars being less accomplished than men. In the patriarchal world of His Dark Materials, women who try to integrate themselves in male institutions are very frowned upon. Later, in The Subtle Knife, when Lyra has learned that all that glitters isn’t gold (such as golden monkeys), she still has this internalised view of what a women’s body should be like. When she has to find new clothes to wear and Will suggests some pants she refuses, claiming that girls can’t wear pants (Pullman 2018, 56). Here she has internalised the surveillance of the power structure that effects how women will behave. No one from Lyra’s world is there to tell her that she, as a girl, can’t wear pants, she monitors her own behaviour. This is just one example of many where one can see how the constant surveillance makes people in Lyra’s world, just as our own, internalise that surveillance.

One final part of Foucault theories that I want to explain is the concepts of biopower and biopolitics.  Foucault writes that while at previous times in history regents such as kings and queens have had the power over their subjects’ life or death directly (such as by capital punishment), today the state’s power more lies in the power to support lives or let them perish (Foucault 2002, 137 & 140). He describes our current time as one of biopower, where the state controls our bodies to make them as efficient/productive as possible for capitalism (ibid, 142). Foucault also writes that because of this, norms has in part replaced the law, or rather that the law has become the norm, and therefore people doesn’t always have to be threatened by legal consequences in order to behave (ibid, 144). A state that wants a productive population doesn’t want to have to threaten them with death every time it wants to control them. This can obviously also be thought of in terms of the panopticon and surveillance that I described above. But Foucault also writes that since sex is considered so important in society, that is also one of the most controlled things (ibid, 146). This control takes place both on a micro level by doctor’s appointments, psychosocial tests etc, and on a macro level by statistical measurements etc. If this sounds similar to the way eugenics tried to control the” health” of the population, that is no coincidence, Foucault cites this as the most extreme example of these biopolitics (ibid, 148). It might also be worth noting here how other theorists has expanded this by writing about for instance “the bio-necropolitical collaboration”, and how inclusion or exclusion of certain bodies/people in society indirectly produce life and death (Puar 2009). Certain bodies get support to live and thrive, while other bodies (such as disabled bodies or bodies from the global south) is not considered worth to invest in.

Now, if we have established the link between Dust, sex and sexuality, then we could apply Foucault’s analysis of biopolitics on the Magisterium’s attempt to control Dust. In the Golden Compass we can see this through the General Oblation Board’s work on severing children, to make them not infested with Dust (Pullman 2007, 275). Like I’ve previously mentioned, one can see a link here to sterilisations, one extreme form of biopolitics that are aimed at controlling the sexuality of the population. It is also interesting to note here which children, which bodies, are being experimented on. Like I established in my other analysis, this is mostly lower-class children and children of ethnic minorities. This seems like a clear example of how the bio-necropolitical collaboration that Puar writes about decides which bodies should be protected, and which are disposable. Another example of biopolitics can be found in The Amber Spyglass when The Magisterium tries to prevent Lyra from being an Eve 2.0. Like Mrs Coulter says:

My daughter is now twelve years old. Very soon she will approach the cusp of adolescence, and then it will be too late for any of us to prevent the catastrophe; nature and opportunity will come together like spark and tinder. (Pullman, 242)

They need to control Lyra’s blossoming sexuality in order to control Dust, and the possibilities of free thinking. Mrs Coulter prevents The Magisterium to take control over Lyra, because as she says:

If you thought for one moment that I would release my daughter into the care, the care! , of a body of men with a feverish obsession with sexuality, men with dirty fingernails, reeking of ancient sweat, men whose furtive imaginations would crawl over her body like cockroaches, if you thought I would expose my child to that, my Lord President, you are more stupid than you take me for. (Pullman, 243)

Here we again see the connection between controlling Dust and sexuality, specifically female sexuality. Such a focus on female sexuality often existed within our world’s eugenics as well, since women were often seen as the reproducers of the nation (Mottier 2008, 90). Statistics show that 90% of sterilisations being carried out was on women in both Switzerland and Sweden. As Mottier writes:

Female bodies were a particular source of eugenic anxiety, as indicated by the gender imbalance in the removal of reproductive capacities. Reflecting traditional associations of reproduction with the female body, women were also seen as particularly important targets for the eugenic education and state regulations that eugenicists called for. As sociologist Nira Yuval-Davis has pointed out, ideas of the ‘purity of the race’ tend to be crucially intertwined with the regulation of female sexuality. (Mottier 2008, 92)

That it is specifically a girl’s sexuality that the Magisterium wants to control seems depressingly fitting in this light.

So, in conclusion we can see that the Magisterium considers Dust to be something that needs to be controlled. This partly happens through discourse, partly through surveillance, and partly through biopolitics. In many ways we can see how this parallels the way sex/sexuality is conceived in our world. Now, I’m not sure how much of this was deliberately put there by Pullman. Perhaps he didn’t intentionally make Dust a metaphor for sex/sexuality. But the way he connects it to original sin, puberty, temptation etc, makes me think that at least some of it was on purpose. Lyra’s world is not that different from our own after all.

  References

Bartky, Sandra Lee. (2010). “Foucault, Femininity, and the Modernization of Pathriarcal Power.”, pp. 64-85 in Weitz, Rose & Samantha Kwan (eds). The Politics of Women's Bodies, New York: Oxford University Press.

Foucault, Michel. (2002/1976). Sexualitetens historia 1: Viljan att veta. Translated by Birgitta Gröndahl. Göteborg: Bokförlaget Daidalos AB [This is the Swedish translation of L'Histoire de la sexualité I : La volonté de savoir/ The History of Sexuality I: The Will to Knowledge]

Foucault, Michel. (2008). Diskursernas kamp. Eslöv: Brutus Östlings bokförlag Symposion.

Foucault, Michel. (2012/1975). ”Discipline and Punish”, pp. 314-321 in Calhoun, Craig, Josepth Gerteis, James Moody, Steven Pfaff & Indermohan Virk (eds), Contemporary Sociological Theory (3rd edition). Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell.

Foucault, Michel. (2013/1969). Archaeology of knowledge. New York: Routledge

Lindgren, S. (2015). ”Michel Foucault och sanningens historia”, pp. 347-372 in Månsson, Per. (eds.), Moderna samhällsteorier: Traditioner, riktningar, teoretiker (9th edition). Lund: Studentlitteratur.

Lo-lynx. (2019). “The Nordic influences in His Dark Materials” Accessed: December 1, 2019. https://lo-lynx.tumblr.com/post/189230180712/the-nordic-influences-in-his-dark-materials

Mottier, Véronique. (2008). Sexuality: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press

Puar, Jasbir K. (2009). “Prognosis time: Towards a geopolitics of affect, debility and capacity,” Women & Performance: a Journal of Feminist Theory, 19:2, 161-172

Pullman, Phillip. (2007/1995). Guldkompassen. Stockholm: Bokförlaget Natur och Kultur [this is the Swedish translation of The Golden compass]

Pullman, Philip. (2018/1997). The Subtle Knife. New York: Scholastic.

Pullman, Phillip. (2001). The Amber Spyglass. New York: Random House.

Pullman, Phillip. (2017). La Belle Sauvage. New York: Knopf.