Gaard, Greta, and Patrick D. Murphy, eds. Ecofeminist Literary Criticism: Theory, Interpretation, Pedagogy. Urbana: U of Illinois P, 1998. Print.
Chapters Read:
- “Introduction” by Greta Gaard and Patrick D. Murphy
- “A Root of Ecofeminism: Ecoféminisme” by Barbara T. Gates
- “‘The Women Are Speaking’: Contemporary Literature as Theoretical Critique” by Patrick D. Murphy
- “Toward an Ecofeminist Standpoint Theory: Bodies as Grounds” by Deborah Slicer
- “Ecofeminist Literary Criticism: Reading the Orange” by Josephine Donovan
I think Blake and I are in agreement: we wish we had read this anthology of essays the first week of our independent study instead of Buell. This collection is comprehensive, wide-ranging, and best of all, provides definition(s) of ecofeminism by the second page of the introduction. What I did not realize is that ecofeminist literary criticism, or ecofeminist literary analysis, is a very recent branch off the ecofeminist tree, so to speak.
The introduction provides a clear definition of ecofeminism: “a practical movement for social change arising out of the struggles of women to sustain themselves, their families, and their communities” (2). As the definition suggests, ecofeminism is based on “resistance and vision, critiques and heuristics” (2). However, as I learned in my readings from this anthology, ecofeminism is not a static, all-encompassing theory. Rather, there are different branches and approaches based on the individual applying ecofeminism. Despite the fluid nature of ecofeminism, Gaard and Murphy have found what they believe to be a common thread in all ecofeminist theories: transformation (3). Specifically they state:
ecofeminism is based not only on the recognition of connections between the exploitation of nature and the oppression of women across patriarchal societies. It is also based on the recognition that these two forms of domination are bound up with class exploitation, racism, colonialism, and neocolonialism. (3)
From my understanding, ecofeminism seeks to make visible these connections and then take action to fight against the domination of nature and oppression of women—to enable transformation on cultural, social, economic, and political levels. What does this mean for my literary project? It means I should look for literary instances of the domination and nature and the oppression of women and see if they are artificially linked; if so, what are the consequences of this link? Is there any resistance to this artificial link in the literature? Are there attempts to transform this link to the advantage of certain persons? What types of women are being linked to the domination of nature and do any groups of women escape this forced relationship? Is it lower class working white women? African American slaves? Indentured white servants? Non-Christians? Native Americans? I’m incredibly fascinated to read through early American literature with this new filter of ecofeminism.
I’m going to provide you with what I thought were the highlights of chapters one through five, but I would strongly encourage anyone interested in ecofeminism and ecocritical theories to purchase and read all of the selections. The combination of “ecofeminist literary theory, criticism, and pedagogy” provides for a wide range of material that showcases the fluidity of ecofeminism and its practitioners (2).
Barbara T. Gates provides a brief summary of Françoise d’Eaubonne’s books Le Féminisme ou la mort and Ecologie feminism: Révolution ou mutation?. Brief side note: are all French feminist always cutting edge and radical? I would love to take a class on radical French feminists, they seem amazing, bold, and confident. d’Eaubonne found connections between women, the power struggle over women’s reproductive rights, the destruction of the earth, and the “eternal woman” and “the inexhaustible Earth” images. The variables described above are ones I will be keeping an eye out for in my search for a primary text from early America.
Patrick D. Murphy explores the need to question literary theory through analysis of literary works rather than assume that literary theory is a static entity. Murphy examines seven different authors of both nonfiction and fiction, and includes novels and poetry in his selections. Issues that arise include ecoregional awareness, the diversity of human culture, cultural conservationists, illusions of nostalgia, the role of art, human-land relationships, regionalism as an agenda, and the relationships between nature, gender, and culture. Additionally, the human-human relationship, the concept of “anotherness,” deculturation, and racism.
Deborah Slicer’s essay was extremely helpful because although I had heard of standpoint theory, I had no idea what it actually meant or looked like in a literary analysis. Standpoint theory, according to critic Uma Narayan, is “[t]he claim of ‘epistemic privilege’ amounts to the claiming that members of an oppressed group have a more immediate, subtle and critical knowledge about the nature of their oppressions than people who are nonmembers of the oppressed group” (50). Reading through Slicer’s essay reveals that not all practitioners of standpoint theory agree on the validity or enactment of standpoint theory, or even the definition of standpoint theory itself. Slicer’s insistence that we acknowledge and examine the materiality of the body could be very helpful to my project, especially as it calls attention to the material lives of women. Sliver remarks, “[t]o insist that the body of more generally nature can somehow escape the effects of institutional power seems to me somewhat naïve” (60). Remembering that the domination of nature and the oppression of women could leave behind bodily, physical effects upon women’s bodies could point me in interesting directions while reading primary texts.
Josephine Donovan’s essay, while fascinating, I think will be more helpful to Blake’s examination of William Bartram and his relationship with nature, plants, and animals—especially the sections of his journal that deal with the gator and the rattlesnakes. Donovan focuses on Martin Buber’s I-Thou relationship and theory as well as the concept of the absent referent from structuralist and poststructuralist theories. I want to include one of the last passages of Donovan’s essay because I found it both inspiring and provocative because of the interweaving of spiritual, personal, and academic selves required.
The task, therefore, as I see it, for ecofeminist critics, writers, scholars, and teachers is to encourage the development of forms of attention that enhance awareness of the living environment, that foster respect for its reality as a separate, different, but knowable entity. Such a commitment entails reconceiving literature and literary criticism in the ways suggested in this essay as epistemological and moral practices that can contribute to the designed spiritual transformation, to metanoia. (92).
A few lines later Donovan’s goal is reinforced: “[t]he purpose of the epistemological awakening described here is to sensitize dominators to the realities of the dominated, that is, to make the dominator-subject see/hear what has been construed as an object” (92). I think this passage really struck a chord with me for several reasons. One, I struggle as a writer to find the balance between my natural voice and the academic voice we are expected to communicate with in the scholarly discourse community. Too often I feel like the expectations of this academic voice are smothering me, resulting in a dry, passionless non-enthusiastic voice that dully and predictably delivers literary analysis. I think perhaps that Donovan’s vision for ecofeminist critics, writers, scholars and teachers would allow a better balance of personal and academic voice because of the goal of transformation. How can we enact transformation without passion, without enthusiasm? Why would I want to read an article, an essay, a book unless I can build a connection with either the author or the message contained within? Is it possible to produce academic pieces that include rather than exclude our voice and personality? I hope so.
Secondly, I love that Donovan is encouraging us to step outside of the classroom, literally and literary (at least that is my interpretation, I could be wrong). How can we foster a respect for the living environment without experiencing it for ourselves? How can we forge connections between the living environment of our past (both historical and literary) if we have no clue about our own living environment? Lastly, I believe Donovan’s remarks about the dominator-subject could provide a working framework of literary analysis. What if my research into early American literature allows present day readers to empathize with past dominator-subjects, and provides them with examples of “the realities of the dominated”? What happens by reaching back into our historical reality and literary past to illuminate the methods by which women were oppressed and nature dominated by the maintenance of this constructed link between women and nature?
Feminist scholarship has done so much to recover women’s voices, works, and products from our past but still so many students don’t have a clue about the contributions and struggles of women in America. For example, during our meeting with Dr. Murphy last week, Blake and I found out that Susan Fenimore Cooper, daughter of James Fenimore Cooper, was not only more popular than Henry David Thoreau, but that her novel Rural Hours outsold Walden by the thousands. And yet, before this independent study, I had never heard of her or Rural Hours. Her contributions to American history and the literary field were consciously erased by scholarly critics. Does this not make you furious? It makes me incredibly angry, but it also reminds me of how much more work feminist scholars have to accomplish.
And now that I’ve allowed myself to go off on a tangent, I’ll wrap things up. The next reading response will look at the second half of Ecofeminist Literary Criticism.
-Jay Jay
No comments:
Post a Comment