Further thoughts on feminism

Teenage Jane Grey reading Plato...in the original Greek

"'...as I was saying we shall never agree, I suppose, upon this point. No man and woman, would, probably. But let me observe that all histories are against you--all stories, prose and verse. If I had such a memory as Benwick, I could bring you fifty quotations in a moment on my side the argument, and I do not think I ever opened a book in my life which had not something to say upon woman's inconstancy. Songs and proverbs, all talk of woman's fickleness. But perhaps you will say, these were all written by men.'

'Perhaps I shall. Yes, yes, if you please, no reference to examples in books. Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything.'" 

(Persuasion, ch. 23)

A while ago, reeling from my first exposure to literary theory, I wrote this post.

For the most part, I stand by the spirit of my arguments. Without rejecting the merit of diversity itself, it does have a potential dark side: division. I believe my fears of toxic disunity have been justified in the elections that recently took place both in the U.S. and the U.K.; they reveal that none of the special interest groups (and I do include the white establishment) have done a particularly admirable job of working together, listening to one another, or finding common ground. This is what happens to society when everyone fixates on his or her own personal interests, with little plan for how to implement proposed changes in a sustainable way.

At the same time, I was recently reminded of a conversation I had with a friend I met in Cambridge. He was a fellow international Reformed Baptist, but unlike me, he hailed from the Czech Republic. We were discussing the current landscape of Christian publishing, and he made an observation that struck me: Much of what gets published is written by Americans and is directed toward an American audience. It's as if the U.S. is the "center" of the Christian world. However, the cultural climate in places like Eastern Europe is a lot different than that of the U.S., and so for someone in my friend's position, there's a good portion of these books that simply is irrelevant, while key issues facing non-Western society are left untouched; it leaves these individuals on the outer circles. This doesn't mean the books being published are useless to non-Americans, because there's a lot of insight that can be relevant to anyone; this insight is simply lacking the potential to be enriched by other perspectives than that of America.

I realized that this easily translates into the world of literary theory, and as a result, I believe my views have become more nuanced. Yes, the goal is harmony. But it's also true that there historically has been a "center" (male-dominated publishing) that often did leave women feeling disenfranchised. There's nothing wrong about having books written with men or Americans in mind, per se. What becomes problematic is when passages that contain male/American-specifc perspectives are assumed to be the default or universal experience; when outside voices are actively excluded (take the Jane Austen quote above).

I still wouldn't consider myself a radical feminist or anything approaching that. I continue reading and loving books written by men, sometimes containing male bias, because I believe they do have important things to say, regardless of gender or passages that are askew. Oftentimes, male authors are able to quite successfully portray experiences I have gone through as a woman. I would consider myself more pragmatic than those who argue that the only person allowed to write on an issue is one who has experienced it firsthand. However, I have a deeper appreciation now for the limits of literature. Authors are not divinely inspired, and our attempts at describing universal human experiences are inevitably flawed. For those who are driven to add more female voices to the literary canon, or even to point out where male authors could do better, I say bravo. But I ask that such work be done graciously. I'm learning that accepting that these literary efforts will be imperfect is a kind of humility, one that frees us from unrealistic expectations of human ability.