Women's Ways of Making

Maureen Daly Goggin, Shirley K Rose, Maureen Daly Goggin, Shirley K Rose

• Publisher: Utah State University Press
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781646420384
• Topic: Lingue e linguistica
• Subtopic: Linguistica

Women's Ways of Making draws attention to material practices—those that the hands perform—as three epistemologies—an episteme, a techne, and a phronesis—that together give pointed consideration to making as a rhetorical embodied endeavor. Combined, these epistemologies show that making is a form of knowing that (episteme), knowing how (techne), and wisdom-making (phronesis).Since the Enlightenment, embodied knowledge creation has been overlooked, ignored, or disparaged as inferior to other forms of expression or thinking that seem to leave the material world behind. Privileging the hand over the eye, as the work in this collection does, thus problematizes the way in which the eye has been co-opted by thinkers as the mind's tool of investigation. Contributors to this volume argue that other senses—touch, taste, smell, hearing­—are keys to knowing one's materials. Only when all these ways of knowing are engaged can making be understood as a rhetorical practice.In Women's Ways of Making contributors explore ideas of making that run the gamut from videos produced by beauty vloggers to zine production and art programs at women's correctional facilities. Bringing together senior scholars, new voices, and a fresh take on material rhetoric, this book will be of interest to a broad range of readers in composition and rhetoric. Contributors: Angela Clark-Oates, Jane L. Donawerth, Amanda Ellis, Theresa M. Evans, Holly Fulton-Babicke, Bre Garrett, Melissa Greene, Magdelyn Hammong Helwig, Linda Hanson, Jackie Hoermann, Christine Martorana, Aurora Matzke, Jill McCracken, Karen S. Neubauer, Daneryl Nier-Weber, Sherry Rankins-Roberson, Kathleen J. Ryan, Rachael Ryerson, Andrea Severson, Lorin Shellenberger, Carey Smitherman-Clark, Emily Standridge, Charlese Trower, Christy I. Wenger, Hui Wu, Kathleen Blake Yancey

Section 1

Women’s Ways of Embodying Rhetoric

1

Remaking the Female Reproductive Body in Saga

Rachael A. Ryerson

DOI: 10.7330/9781646420384.c001

For those who read comics, and even for those who do not, it hardly comes as a surprise that women’s bodies in comics are typically portrayed in hypersexualized, fetishized ways. As Jennifer Stuller points out, “The bodies of women in mainstream comics tend to be fetishized, receive more focus than their narrative, are shown as parts rather than an active whole . . . and are typically drawn in physically impossible positions that manage to display both their breasts and their rear ends” (2012, 237). Women’s bodies are visually rendered for the heterosexual male gaze, and they are often posed to lead this gaze to their sexualized parts, that is their breasts, vagina, or buttocks. For some time now, the trend in mainstream comics has been to hypersexualize, yet reduce in complexity and agency, the female body, all in an effort to cater to the mostly male comics consumer (Brown 2011, 77).

Despite the frequency with which women’s bodies cater to the heterosexual male gaze in Western, mainstream comics, many comic artists, writers, and fans challenge those representations. For example, websites such as the Hawkeye Initiative disrupt the sexual objectification of women through parody: they replace the female bodies with male bodies in the same pose and clothing, and in doing so, reveal and resist hegemonic discursive practices within the comics industry (Scott 2015). In her comics, Julie Doucet also uses parody to challenge normative notions of the female body through grotesque female materiality, a misogynistic concept typically used to discipline and marginalize women’s bodies. Her comic Heavy Flow is a good example; Doucet illustrates her cartoon self as a hyperbolic, menstruating King Kong in search of Tampax. Doucet represents the female body as a grotesque, abject body, and in doing so, “challenges cultural norms through a process of resignification based on the production of parodic excess” (Køhlert 2012, 20). This comic forces an encounter with an abject body, “leaking” as it is from an orifice often characterized in comics as monstrous.

Likewise, Fiona Staples (artist) and Brian K. Vaughan’s (writer) sci-fi comic, Saga, challenges cultural, comic industry norms around the female reproductive body by representing and glorifying abject representations of those bodies. Western mainstream comics avoid or downplay visual representations of female bodies that emphasize their reproductive and maternal capabilities. In addition, such comics tend to portray these bodes as abject, as monstrous feminine bodies that should be visually marginalized, ignored, or erased altogether because of the psychological horror they inspire in the assumed-male spectator (Brown 2011). Saga contests these representations of women’s bodies by normalizing the abject through visual depictions of childbirth, public breastfeeding, and miscarriage. As this essay shows, Saga illustrates the female reproductive body in abject ways, but instead of sequestering, erasing, or vilifying these bodies, this comic visually centers and celebrates them, and, in the process, ultimately reworks discursive norms for these bodies.

Abject Theory and Criticism

Unequivocally, Julia Kristeva helped establish the theory of abjection, and often scholars draw upon her work to analyze phenomena through this theoretical lens. While a full explication of Kristeva’s theory of abjection is outside the scope of this essay, a brief introduction to abjection, especially its connection to the female reproductive body, warrants explanation. At its core, Kristeva’s theory responds to Freudian and Lacanian schools of thought about subjectivity and marks an affective turn toward ontology, a perspective that situates bodily experience as substantive of subjectivity. According to Kristeva, the abject stands for that which we most dread, the hidden, feared parts of being and knowing that “disturb identity, system, order” (1982, 4). Kristeva cites phenomena like excrement, vomit, and the corpse as examples of abjection because they represent a threat to bodily integrity, from within and without, and “these body fluids, this defilement, this shit are what life withstands” (3). Abjection, then, is “sickness at one’s own body” and is “the result of recognizing that the body is more than, in excess of, the ‘clean and proper’ ” (Grosz 1990, 78). Rina Arya clarifies that “abject things cross boundaries, making their states indeterminate and it is this in-between state that renders the object abject” (2014, 27). As a result, “the abject is radically excluded” because it highlights “the place where meaning collapses” (Kristeva 1982, 2). To maintain subjectivity and identity, the individual disavows the abject because it is a reminder of disorder and death, of the body’s ambiguity and fluidity.

For Kristeva, abjection first occurs when the infant separates from the mother. Imogen Tyler summarizes Kristeva’s model of subjectivity: “The infant’s bodily attachment to his/her maternal origins must be successfully and violently abjected in order for an independent and cogent, speaking human subject to ‘be born.’ Any subsequent ‘abjections’ must therefore be understood as repetitions that contain an echo of this earlier cathartic event—the first and primary abject(ion)—birth and the human infant’s separation from the maternal body/home” (2009, 80). Following Kristeva, to expel the mother the infant makes the mother abject, developing feelings of horror and fear in order to establish bodily boundaries and a singular identity separate from the mother. Together, the matricide Kristeva’s theory calls for along with the feelings of disgust and horror that become attached to the maternal, both theoretically and physically, lead to monstrous-feminine representations of maternal and reproductive female figures throughout culture. Indeed, the pregnant body, as a soon-to-be maternal figure in excess of its physical boundaries and with many leaking orifices, is a prime example of the abject.

Although Kristeva never claims to be a feminist and never labels her theory of abjection as feminist, the concept of abjection has been a compelling and productive one for feminist scholars and rhetoricians. Feminists draw on this theory with the hope that cultural representations of the abject can be “read against the grain in ways that will destabilize and/or subvert misogynistic representations of women” (Tyler 2009, 82–83). Tyler does not wholeheartedly disagree with this application of abject theory, but she does worry that this form of criticism, in reaffirming the link between the maternal and the monstrous, becomes “another site in which a narrative of acceptable violence is endlessly rehearsed until we find ourselves not only colluding with but more fundamentally believing in our abjection” (87). Tyler calls for a more enriched understanding of abject theory that does not simply reaffirm the maternal, reproductive figure as horrific and/or disgusting. But, what if a popular culture text used abject representations of the fecund female body to normalize those bodies? The comic series Saga accomplishes as much by centralizing the abject female reproductive body, representing its panoply—pregnant, birthing, breastfeeding, miscarrying—naturalizing its chaotic excess and reworking norms for such figures in the comic genre.

Abjection of Maternal and Female Reproductive Bodies in Mainstream Comics

Comic scholars have noticed that mainstream comics tend to portray maternal and pregnant figures as abject. Indeed, very few superheroines are both positive maternal figures and adept heroines—maternal superheroines often fail as mothers, become an obstacle for their superhero male counterparts, or are depicted as “inherently evil, neglectful, or absent” (Brown 2011, 82). The maternal figure in comics has not always been abject—indeed, Laura Mattoon D’Amore’s examination of superhero comics from 1963 to 1980 shows how the feminist movement heavily impacted the comics of this time period. As a result, the “superheroine’s performance of maternity empowers the maternal, accepting motherhood—and the feminized qualities associated with it—as an asset, rather than a liability” (2012, 1226). Yet, D’Amore’s finding seems more the exception than the norm. More often, as Anne Marie O’Brien discovered in analyzing Jack Kirby’s 1970–73 superhero comic series Fourth World, mainstream comics depict a “problematic rejection of the female reproductive body” (2014, para. 7). For instance, two main female mother figures, Granny Goodness and Motherbox, reiterate the monstrous/selfish versus pure/selfless mother trope. Granny Goodness is characterized as a cruel and terrible mother, whose “defining trait of selfishness is matched with her exaggeratedly aged physical features” (para. 10). Her visual appearance reinforces her characterization as a grotesque maternal figure—she is abject. In contrast, Motherbox, a sentient portable supercomputer that can heal and help many of the characters in Fourth World, is defined as a sexless, selfless entity whose “clean” and “secure” physical boundaries mark her as a safe and acceptable maternal figure.

Like maternal figures, and perhaps more so, pregnant bodies in comics are often overlooked or erased because they visually and physically embody that which has been defined as abject: “The pregnant body itself represents a threatening dissolution of bodily boundaries and serves as a symbol of femininity as monstrous” (Brown 2011, 81). In the superhero comic genre specifically, the female reproductive body is represented as abject because these bodies defy the bodily norms for the genre. What is more, “in a genre obsessed with armoring, containing, and defending the integrity of self-sufficient and powerful bodies, a pregnant body is troublesome because it evidences the inherent fluidity and penetrability of the superheroine” (79). As a result, pregnant bodies in this genre, as well as other comic genres, are portrayed in abject, monstrous ways because they disturb the ideal boundaries and containment mainstream comics foist on the female body. Jane Ussher explains that “the corporeality of the changing pregnant body, the act of birth, the amniotic fluid, afterbirth, and blood, and the hormonal changes and lactation which follow, stand as the pinnacle of that which signifies abjection” (2006, 86), and thus it makes sense that a genre bent on representing the female body in its ideal form would make visual representations of pregnancy abject.

To be fair, feminist underground comix from the 1970s to present day visually represent and frankly discuss female reproductive bodies. Indeed, Chin Lyvely and Joyce Farmer Chevely’s 1973 comic, Abortion Eve, openly discusses abortion and female reproductive bodies in/through the comics medium. Likewise, Lynn Johnston, in her long-running comic strip, For Better or For Worse, illustrates and describes pregnancy not as idyllic or as monstrous but in its actuality (1981, 1983, 1989). Women in Johnston’s comics about pregnancy complain about nausea, swollen feet, discomfort, fear, and weight gain, even offering feminist comments like, “Why is it that a paunch is fine on a man but is ugly on a girl who’s had two kids!” (1981). Comic strips like Johnston’s, as well as feminist underground comix, represent the lived, personal, political experiences of female reproductive bodies, but this is not the case for many mainstream superhero/action comics.

In contrast, mainstream comics rarely show the pregnant female body, often alluding to pregnancy only in flashbacks (as is the case with Black Widow) or preferring to speed up the pregnancy (as is the case with Invisible Girl). Indeed, Sue Storm (Invisible Girl/Woman) takes maternity leave from the Fantastic Four team and is replaced by another female superheroine figure until she can reappear, svelte in her skin-tight leotard. Power Girl, another example, reveals she is pregnant in Justice League International, issue 52, but she does not appear pregnant in subsequent issues, and she disappears from the series after issue 67, only to reappear in Zero Hour: Crisis in Time heavily pregnant and ready to give birth. The comic visually skips her pregnancy and offers a truncated view of the actual birth of the baby. This comic series, along with many mainstream Western comics, refuses to show the female reproductive body at its most abject—pregnant, giving birth, breastfeeding, miscarrying—because such bodies are “not the ideal well protected impervious body valorized in comics” (Brown 2011, 80).

Altogether, existent comics scholarship on abjection and the maternal and/or female reproductive body does well to identify how and when these bodies become abject and astutely highlights why these representations are problematic. However, rarely discussed are the ways abject female bodies might productively challenge discursive norms for such figures in comics. Frederik Byrn Køhlert, in his article on carnivalesque subversion in Julie Doucet’s comics, demonstrates how the abject can be used to critique norms for the female body in comics. Although Køhlert reads Doucet through the lens of Bakhtin’s concept of the carnivalesque, he echoes Kristeva’s theory of abjection in his focus on the grotesque body as one that emphasizes the openings and protrusions of the body, as well as the “processes of becoming such as intercourse, giving birth, and dying” (2012, 21). With its capacity for menstruation and lactation, the female body becomes the grotesque (read: abject) body. However, Køhlert suggests such bodies have subversive potential, and in Doucet’s comics specifically, “the misogynistic concept of grotesque female materiality [is] a generative principle from where she articulates a critique in both form and content of the normative and restricting representations of the female body” (19). Doucet visually re-presents abject female bodies to rework the hegemonic, regulatory frame for those bodies.

To do more than synonymize female reproductive bodies with abjection, comics readers and scholars must attend to those comics that use abjection to remake sociocultural conceptions of such bodies. How might comics recast female figures of abjection to disrupt industry practices and simultaneously introduce a new level of acceptance for visual representations of the female reproductive body? A good example can be found in the recent comics series Saga, which centralizes abject, visual representations of the female reproductive body. In addition to seeing pregnant bodies, readers of Saga also see main characters giving birth (including crowning), breastfeeding, and miscarrying. Instead of allocating these abject figures to the margins or background or making them into villains and thereby reifying these bodies’ association with the monstrous-feminine, Saga naturalizes these abject figures, and in the process, disrupts comic-industry norms for the female reproductive body.

Disrupting Taboos of Childbirth

Heavily influenced by Star Wars and described as an epic space opera, Saga is the collaborative result of Brian K. Vaughan’s writing and Fiona Staples’s artistry. This comic series, first issued on March 14, 2012, follows two lovers, Alana from the technologically advanced Landfall Coalition, and Marko, from the poorer Wreath, the only satellite of Landfall. These two planets are at war with each other, making Marko and Alana Romeo and Juliet figures, star-crossed lovers on the run from authorities on both sides of the galactic war, hunted for breaking social taboos by being together. They are mainly pursued because they have g...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• List of Figures
• Acknowledgments
• Women’s Ways of Making as Embodied Epistemic Acts: An Introduction
• Section 1: Women’s Ways of Embodying Rhetoric
• Section 2: Women’s Ways of Making Arguments together Using Words and Deeds
• Section 3: Women’s Ways of Making the Academy
• About the Authors
• Index