Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Becoming Crip, Becoming-Hermaphrodite in Mandeville's Travels


"I wish to say no more about such marvels as are there, so other people might travel there and find new things to describe"

The Travels of John Mandeville
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The Normate World Falls Apart

Chapter thirteen ends with an admission that his quest to physically travel and represent all the diversity in the world is a failure. "Many other maner of peple beth theraboute, of wham hit were to moche to telle," (1896-1897). It is significant that this admission comes directly after his description of the hermaphrodites in lines 1892-1895. It is as though the hermaphrodites, while not being the last of the diverse people he describes, sit in the exact middle or cross beyond of the available tools of categorization (both meanings for the prefix "trans"). After the hermaphrodites, Mandeville has reached his breaking point and has to stop speaking. Mandeville's silence, the absenting of a voice that has dominated and structured the world through narrative, acknowledges the other peoples in the world and the other voices that may now be allowed to speak for themselves. In the Defective Middle English version, he admits his limitations for containing diversity by leaving room for other travelers and writers. "I wish to say no more about such marvels as are there, so other people might travel there and find new things to describe, things I haven’t mentioned or described, because many people very much like and desire to hear new things" (Anthony Bale 124). From the onset, Mandeville's second pilgrimage was motivated by the desire for diversity which he calls the desire "to hear new things." In one sense, Mandeville has accomplished this in the goal of his journey to the margins, he has described many things pushed away from the bodies and imagination of England. Yet in another sense, he can only accomplish this goal by stopping his narrative and allowing other voices to speak. For to hear new things means not only to hear about them, but to hear from them directly. Mandeville cannot and does not speak for the hermaphrodites.

Mandeville choses to end his narrative travels, yet the text goes further, suggesting that no man, even a powerful, ablebodied, cisgender Christian man, can physically embody the diversity of the whole world by speech or deed. At last, as though gasping for air, Mandeville concludes by admitting that his pilgrims narrative cannot possibly contain all the marvelous things in the world: "There are many countries and marvels I have not seen, therefore I can’t describe them correctly" (Bale 123-124). Despite giving the impression of semi-omnipresence and omniscience in his mapping of places and peoples, it is at the end of his journey that he finally confesses the limits of being a body moving through space. He is becoming conscious of the instruments and methodologies of his pilgrimage. Mandeville has limited vision, he can only see in his way and cannot see other things, in other ways. Furthermore, he is limited in his ability to speak. His words do not reveal all things as an object truth but are shaped by the limits of his capacity to know and communicate. More information would require the gaze and voices of other people. "Moreover," adds Mandeville, "in countries which I have visited there are marvels that I haven’t described, as it would take too long" (Bale 123-124). Mandeville's pilgrimage produces a kind of mappa mundi but one limited and distorted by the shape of his travels. Pilgrimage as more than static maps but rather  it is the embodied movement and limitations of movement through space that shapes places and peoples of the world. The mappa mundi and the pilgrim change from nouns with pre-determined forms, objects of transcendent truths, into the actions and productions of mapping, worlding, embodying, peopling, and pilgriming. 

In fact, reversing the traditional promise of the first pilgrimage to the center of the Christian world to make a person healed and whole, the conclusion of the second pilgrimage to the islands of the anti-loca sancta is to make Mandeville into a broken and diverse embodiment of the margins. By the end of the second pilgrimage, he has not only stopped speaking, he has effectively lost the ability to speak. This occurs, in part, because he has lost the ability to walk. In the Cotton version of the text, he writes that he has lost the ability to walk because of an "arthritic gout" (185). Losing the ability to move as he had in his pilgrimage takes away Mandeville's power to structure space by moving through it. Instead, he becomes more like the place-locked peoples he describes, like the hermaphrodites and Amazons. In any case, his desire to contain difference at once fringing on neurotic and his ableist attempt to be everywhere and all things is proven impossible, wearing down his body. Thus, not only does Mandeville become spatially locked like those on the margins but his body becomes crip, loses its status as ablebodied that he had when he was living in the center of the Christian world. Mandeville leaves Jerusalem like one of the people of power and returns to it as one of the freaks from the margins. Indeed, it is Mandeville's choice to offer his body to Rome as embodied cultural authority that transform pilgrimage from a process of healing into a process of marginalizing, cripping, freakening. The last work of his pilgrimage is to make Mandeville into a monster, a body that shows the diversity of the world and the diversifying effect pilgrimage has on space and the body. Rather than merely look and recording the difference of the Hermphrodites, Mandeville becomes crip and becomes hermaphroditic.


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Back to the Center

While the end of the traditional pilgrimage is to return from the center to the margins, the cycle of the second pilgrimage is to come back from the margins to the center of Christianity, "tornyng homwarde to Rome" (2840). While supposedly from England, Mandeville calls Rome home. The margins may give rise to the diversity of crip, trans, and intersex bodies of pilgrims yet while most pilgrimages involve a return to these places of origin, Rome or Jerusalem continue to signify "home" for many Christians. These Loca Sancta are the physical embodiment of the City of God on Earth. Indeed, the allegory of the pilgrims journey is the leaving behind of the earthly point of origin to end at last in Heaven, used in varying levels of transparency but perhaps most famously portrayed in the 17th century Pilgrims Progress. However Mandeville challenges the norms of the pilgrim's journey by traveling from the center of the Christian world to the margins, he nonetheless ends his travels and his narrative back in Rome. This return marks the limits as well as the strategy of Mandeville. He can challenge but not totally resist the power Rome has to orient space and bodies toward it. Yet throughout his narrative, Mandeville demonstrates the ability to turn expectations towards his alternative agenda. Although Mandeville returns to Rome, he is not the same man. Mandeville has become different, become crip, become hermaphroditic, transgressing boundaries of place and embodiment. In returning to Rome, Mandeville presents himself central authorities in order to evidence that his loop is more like a spiral, containing more every time is leaves and never totally resolving back into itself.

The purpose of the trip back to the centers of Christianity is for Mandeville to present himself and his book as proof of the diversity of the world, "to showe my book to the holy fader, the pope, / and telle to hym mervayles whoch Y hadde y-seye in diverse contrees"  (2840-3). Mandeville and his book have effectively become "monsters" working to show the center the truth of the diversity that exists on the margins. In turn, Mandeville hopes that the central authorities of the Christian world would verify his account of diversity, "so that he, / with his wise / consayl wolde examine hit with diverse peple that beth in Rome" explains Mandeville. "For / ther beth in Rome evermore men dwellynge of diverse nacions of the worlde." Unexpectedly, Mandeville trust in Rome to verify his embodiment of diversity is based not on the innate centrality and wholeness of the people there but because the center itself has become a collection of diverse peoples with whom the Pope can seek advise. By the end of Mandeville's second pilgrimage, perhaps as soon as the conclusion of chapter thirteen, diversity has turned from a marginal quality to escape into a point of authority. Mandeville's vision of authority is a council with the diverse nations, from the various peoples and places of the world. Does this include representatives from the Island of Amazons and Hermaphrodites? The monsters of the world move from the margins to the center of knowledge and Mandeville's hope is that this world council will authorize that his book embodies that diversity.

The need for this authorization is that no one body or pilgrimage can embody the whole diversity of the world, "for as moche as many man troweth noght but that they se with her owen / eye other that they may conseyve with her kyndely witte" (2838-2839). The "kindly wit" means the power of generosity to perceive others and it also means the limits of a mind to comprehend difference only in terms to what it knows and is, of what is of like "kind" to it. The movement towards the other, the anti-loca sancta, is an encounter with a difference that challenges and breaks down traditional forms of knowledge, yet the return to the center acknowledges that this difference will be framed and distorted by the kinds texts and contexts that pre-exists its the same limited archive. The radical "troweth" of the other becomes limited by the "eye" and "witte" of the self. Indeed, despite the diverse peoples present to consul the Pope and authorize Mandeville's second anti-loca pilgrimage, the final word on his narrative is premised on a pre-existing text in Rome that prefigures (and predetermines) all he says. 

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Cycles of Change


In Rome, after Mandeville presents his challenging account of the world, the central authorities offer him a book of their own, "a Latin book containing all this and much more, according to which the book Mappa mundi is made, a copy of which book he showed to me" (124). Even the vernacular English (as well as other languages) used to describe the new content must be translated and confirmed in the authoritative Latin. Only after this pre-text confirms the new that veracity is known, "[t]herefore the Holy Father the Pope has ratified and confirmed my book in all topics" (Bale 124). For the medieval mind, it was not the new and innovative that was trusted but the old, traditional, and familiar.  The center (Jerusalem, Rome, God) functions like a quilting point, returning back only to extend out again among new and unheard of peoples and places. Put another way, Rome functions like the Latin Book to which all authorities must reference: the Bible. As far as Christian authorities travel to include more and more into its world, just as Augustine in response to the existence of Hermaphrodites, in the end the Christian world must find room for it in the pre-existing text at the center of the Faith. In returning to the Book and the City at the center of it all, it changes each time the pilgrim returns to it from some Anti-Loca Sancta with new eyes and new wits. In the end, pilgrimage is cyclical in reflection of Christianity's phases of life, death, and resurrection that are played every year through the liturgical seasons. Christmas gives way to Lent and in turn to Easter. In a temporal mode, the passing of time functions like the circular movements of the pilgrim. On each turn and return, the pilgrim sees the center and the margins in new ways.

Containing people, books, and maps of all the diversity of the world, Rome demonstrates that the center contains the margins. It is literally and figuratively a world power, Rome, that takes the place of God to be the universal translator of all difference. All things come from God and return back to God. In the Cotton version, Mandeville ties his second pilgrimage, to the anti-loca sancta, back into the final Christian authority, the divine map of the world, "who is three in one, without beginning and without end, without good quality, without great quantity, present in all places, and containing all things and whom no good can improve nor no evil harm" (185). Without this description of God as the great unifier across difference and place, the Defective version nonetheless concludes with a prayer to Divine authority as well as a nod to the Worldly authority of the Church in Rome. Yet with this prayer, Mandeville confirms that his vision of the worlds diversity is not only present in the diverse peoples and texts of Rome's earthly authorities but in the divine mind itself. Mandeville (and the Pope) possesses a limited knowledge that will always alter the truth of difference to fit into pre-existing categories, languages, and maps. The eternity of God then is represented in the pilgrimage not only as a singular central point, a Primium Mobile from which God never turns, but as a kind of infinite loop. God is constantly flowing out into the world, towards the margins, and back into itself as in a pilgrimage. This image of God then need not make all things the same in its oneness. The divine map knows "all places" differently and "all things" in their diversity. Unlike the "kindly wit" of humanity, Mandeville's image sees God in present everywhere and in all things in their particularity, as C.S. Lewis writes, "He can think of all, and all different" (Perelandra).

By the end of the book, Mandeville has wandered so far and wondered so much that the narrative has almost forgotten its initial orientation towards Jerusalem. After several chapters in which dozens of diverse lands and peoples are viewed very quickly almost as though Mandeville is speeding up in his travels and narration in an orgy of difference, trying to jam as much in as possible, reveling in multiplicity.  An image of this center, as an able-bodied white Christian male, Mandeville is nonetheless drawn across boundaries, longing to contain difference that will always escape him, suggesting the cyclical nature of the pilgrim himself as at once one and multiple, like and unlike, here and there, center and margin. Without explicitly identifying with all his different places and peoples, Mandeville nonetheless rejects static boundaries for the self or his world. He may not be "transgender" but he may be "gender fluid," rejecting a definitive place, orientation, physical state or national State for his body. In this sense, he is "trans." Instead of an orthodox English or Christian nationalism, he exhibits trans-nationalism, a cross identification with peoples of other nations. In the process Mandeville's narrative imagines him as a man of crossed, straddled, and blurred boundaries. He shows himself on the road as pilgrim working towards becoming-diverse, becoming-crip, becoming-Amazon, becoming-hermaphrodite. Even if he never arrives at absolute difference and dissidence to the central forms of authority, Mandeville suggests an allegiance to orthodox centrality yet remains ever in tension with a heterodox marginality that keeps its story open at its ends. 

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Anti-Loca Sancta: John Mandeville's Second Pilgrimage


"Now wole Y telle of yles and dyverse peple"

The Travels of John Mandeville
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The Fifty-four Isles

The Book of John Mandeville is effectively two books and two pilgrimages. The first half of the book, lines 1 to about 1,425, concerns Mandeville's travels from England to the Holy Land. The second half of the book, 1,425 to about 2,850, tells the story of a new pilgrimage, starting from the center of the Christian world towards India, China, and various islands. In many respects, this is a reversal of the standard pilgrimage genre followed in the first narrative, where he moves from the margins towards the center of the medieval mappa mundi, to the loca sancta of Jerusalem. Erring from this well established flow of biopower, Mandeville walks down and away from the holy city on the mount to explore elsewheres, moving from the center to the margins. During these treks, Mandeville visits various prominent lands with the major kingdoms being given one or more chapters devoted to them. Chapter Thirteen, "Dyverseteis of Peple and of Contreis," stands out as a representative of the major mission and theory of this second pilgrimage. Not only does it begin with Mandeville offering what constitutes a new introduction, much like the one given in chapter one, but contains more lands than any other chapter, in excess of fifty-four individual islands. Chapter thirteen is particularly large, making up around 18%, approximately 1/5 of the whole Travels. 

Bringing his first pilgrimage from England to Jerusalem to an end, Mandeville begins chapter thirteen with a new commission that would take him from Christianity's loca sancta towards place on the margins; in a sense, inverting the proper flow of bodies in space. "And sithen Y have devysed byfor the Holy Londe and contrees ther aboute, and many weyes and to the Mount Synay, and to Babyloyne, and other places," recounts Mandeville of his many travels to the conventional places of religious significance, "now wole Y telle of yles and dyverse peple and bestes" (Ln. 1378-1382). The "now" marks in time the moment of departure on a new pilgrimage with new goals. Rather than privileging the central places and forms of embodying Christian ideals, Mandeville will be leaving these peoples and places behind to show the diversity of the world that has been shoved away elsewhere, to the margins. The need to tell of these places and people are evident because of their alienation from central Christian public life and discourse. Other pilgrimages and travels may make note of monsters and wonders, demonstrating them as freak-shows, places of interest that one may pass on the way to proper loca sancta. But Mandeville makes a point to announce the margins not merely as curiosities of the road but as goals in and of themselves. In this way, he establishes the margins as a kind of second, alternative loca sancta. These places and people become a kind of "anti-loca sancta" by attracting pilgrims away from the center of the world and culture and thus establishing through movement a reorientation of values.

Many of the lands are named and many are not. At one point, Mandeville is devoting one or two sentences per isle in an attempt to cram as many in as possible. Yet while as a narrator, Mandeville is quite loquacious in describing the diversity of peoples and places, even he is unable to contain the great number referenced in chapter thirteen. After going through a litany of places, each given shorter and shorter descriptions, at last he puts a pin in the project. "Many other maner of peple beth theraboute, of wham hit were to moche to telle," writes Mandeville by way of confessing how much is left out of his book that he witnesses in the diversity of the world. While the center of the world is structured to remain the same, gaining its power through its definite orienting place, the power of the margins is that they keep on going. The people of the mountain enter into a siege position, cloistered in the mechanisms that work to make the structure of embodiment and location fixed. Yet those at the bottom, along the edges, can keep on moving and changing. Rome must be fixed and tangible to maintain power, while Paradise and it's islands can keep on cresting just over the next horizon.
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The Mountain of Adam's Tears

While the mountains of Jerusalem collectively form the loca sancta of Christianity, an implicit and integral part of Mandeville's second pilgrimage to the margins is based on the potentially superseding holiness of Eastern sites for the faith. Jerusalem may be located in the center of the T and O map but Paradise is positioned in a privileged place is at its top. As Mandeville moves away from the earthly Jerusalem, towards the margins, he moves towards the earthly Paradise. The garden of Eden is imagined in other medieval sources as the Anti-Loca Sancta to Jerusalem and Rome. Dante's Divine Comedy positions Paradise high atop a mountain on the far side of the world. Yet like Dante, Mandeville's journey to Paradise is not direct but wandering.  "A te convien tenere altro vïaggio," says Virgil, warning Dante to take an indirect path ('It behoves you to take an alternative way,' Dante. La CommediaCanto I). While the center of the Christian world is fixed, or should be if the geopolitical world were a settled thing, the elsewheres open up a vast variety of possible trajectories and modes of emplotment that open up alternative pilgrimage narratives. A fourteenth century reader knows what to expect from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, indeed Mandeville has already gone through many of those motions by the midpoint of his Book in his first pilgrimage. This second pilgrimage towards Paradise is not as familiar a tale. Mandeville is not as constrained by convention either in literary narratives nor in historical pilgrimages, although he has plenty of sources from which to draw ideas. By being Mandeville's second Loca Sancta, this alternative pilgrimage can amalgamate to it a vast diversity of places and peoples; expanding the narrative world map in the process.

In the introduction of his second pilgrimage, Mandeville draws a strong association between the diverse places and people he will be visiting with the earthly Paradise in the utter East. "For ther beth many diverse peple and bestes and contrees, which beth departed by the foure flodes that cometh out of Paradys Terrestre," claims Mandeville (1378-1382). Diversity itself seems to flow out Paradise as the waters separate places and peoples from one another like the precious stones said to be deposited by its outlets. Indeed, Mandeville tells of these stones and their power of healing but only if the carrier holds them on his left side, pointing them towards the East (W.T. Fernie 69). Paradise calls its scattered stones back to itself with interest in the form of bodies it brings back with it. The East calls bodies from the Center (Rome and Jerusalem) for a different kind of healing if they are willing to move toward the Anti-Loca Sancta. Paradise in this way functions as an opposing signifier for the Holy Lands. Eden represents a wholeness that breaks apart into division, whereas the mountains of Christ's death and the mountain of the Vatican represent the place where division is brought back together. All roads lead to Rome but all rivers lead away from Paradise. The common descent of diverse peoples, including monsters, is a key component in Augustine's examination of Hermaphrodites in De Civitate Dei (Augustine XVI.viii). It is likely that the author of Mandeville's Travels was aware of this discussion when this narrative was composed. Following the project of imagining elsewheres, Mandeville's narrative mapping echoes Augustine's assertion that monstrous peoples share a common descent from Adam and his choice of Hermaphrodites as a key example of an othered group that nonetheless likely shares kinship.

Between the mountain of the first Adam, Eden, and the mountain of the second Adam, Golgotha, is located a way station where the first humans mourned their tribulation. In the eastern islands, near the Isles of the Amazons and Hermaphrodites, writes Mandeville, "There is a mountain in this land and in the middle of this mountain there is a plain with a great pool with a large quantity of water in it. Local people say that Adam and Eve wept on that mountain one hundred years after their expulsion from Paradise, and they say that the water is their tears" (Bale 85-86). This mountain top pool of sorrow shared a bitter similarity to the mountain of Hermaphroditus, cursed waters where the child of Hermes and Aphrodite was raped and transformed. These anti-loca sancta are not always places of joy. Sometimes places can become sites of pilgrimage out of great sufferings, confinements, and exiles that occurred there. These places become troubled middles in stories that do not always have an evident end. They become places of pause, where the divisions of life can be contemplated. It is perhaps not so surprising that Mandeville soon turns to peoples such as the Hermaphrodites and Amazons who seem stuck on their islands, unable to move beyond their place on the margins. Indeed, as in the anti-queer, anti-trans, and anti-intersex arguments of many doctors, these peoples seem stuck in what may now be called, "disorders in sexual development." Such medical professionals see transgender and intersex as diversions or delays in the progress towards wholesome forms of embodiment and masculinity, towards the central norms of society; sometimes due to personal trauma. In recent years, Critical Transgender and Intersex Studies in and outside of medicine have debunked the trauma theory of gender in favor of a diversity or liberation model. Yet there remains a draw to return and dwell with places of isolation and exile that long defined gender alterity even as the movement works to gain the power to move elsewhere.

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Peoples of the East

The Islands of the Amazons and the Hermaphrodites are two key places described in chapter thirteen but around them are the accounting of over fifty-four islands that imagine the great diversity of possible genres of embodiment. These numerous islands were confederated under a single ruler operating out of the Island of Dodyn. "The kyng of that ile is a gret lord and myghty," writes Mandeville, "and he hath under hym 54 iles, and ech of hem hath a kyng" (1885-1900). Within the King's own land, "ther / beth many diversytees of men" (1869-1870). Yet his Kingdom was marked, as are many other places on the margins, by cannibalism. Cannibalism has a variety of significances in the Middle Ages and particularly in early European narratives about far off peoples. Among these meanings include a lack of civilization, usually equated to proper Christianity and Western Patriarchy. Furthermore, as medieval Animal Studies scholars, such as Karl Steel have argued in How to Make A Human, humanity is defined against bestiality in the Middle Ages by the taboo against eating human flesh. The act of cannibalism sets the margins apart from the central human community, where the line blurs between animal and human, person and monster. Importantly, it also blurs the distinction between inside and outside, as well as insider and outsider. The text says that the people who live under the King each family members as well as friends, husbands consuming wives, children eating fathers. Violence is not an act against an Other but committed on those of the same blood and flesh. Cannibalism of this kind may be seen as what happens when insularity, isolation, and consolidation become incestuously close-circuited.

Under the King are the fifty-four islands that are not all directly described as cannibals but who challenge the limits of human embodiment in other ways. Directly around the Island of Hermaphrodites are people with one eye, people with their face in their chests, or two small holes for eyes. After the hermaphrodites, Mandeville describes people with holes for mouths who must consume food through straws. One people have "oon eye, and that is in the myddes of her forhede," (Mandeville). Another, have "noon heed, and her eyen beth in her shuldres," (Mandeville). Another have "a plat visage withoute nose and eye, but they have two smale holes instede of eyen," (Mandeville). In each case, the placement and kind of eyes are prominent. Indeed, among the islands described, there is a fixation on the diversity of faces. The face is a key signifier for humanity. In traditional Islamic art, there is a directive not to illustrate eyes because it too closely resembles the act of giving life reserved for God. For Mandeville and his readers, there is an anxiety that while they gaze on the freakshow of the East, the freaks may be looking back at the center. The intermixing of hermaphrodite bodies with other monstrous peoples puts intersexuality within the spectrum of crip embodiment and marginalization. Hermaphrodicism is yet another way to be a monster, a freak, or an infirm. Modern intersex and disability politics further the implicit argument nascent in Mandeville's islands: there is not intersex and non-intersex bodies nor disabled and non-disabled bodies, rather there is bio-diversity. While the definition of the ideal body promised by the loca-sancta of pilgrimage as the goal of travel and salvation, the definition of marginalized bodies includes more diversity than can be contained in a single book. There is one way to be the same but countless ways to be different.

While pilgrimage functions by drawing bodies from the margins to loca sancta, thereby subordinating bodies to its dynamics of place, there is a privilege in being able to move. It is by movement that power systems of place are reinforced or challenged. Thus a second level of subordination becomes enforced by pilgrimage: those who move through space and those who are rooted in place. As a mover, Mandeville distinguishes himself from the places and peoples he observes in his second pilgrimage. They may orient and attract his movements but are themselves immobile. The people of and around India, including the Hermaphrodites and Amazons, are effectively disabled by their environment. "For they / dwelleth under a planete that men clepith Saturne... And for Saturne is of so late steryng, therfore / men that dwelleth under hym and that clymate haveth no good wyll to mech / styryng aboute," writes Mandeville (Ln. 1543). The freaks, monsters, hermaphrodites, and amazons are all disabled by the place where they live and the planet that governs it. This in part explains why Mandeville is permitted to travel to see them while they remain rooted in place. He is socially, physically, even super-naturally able to move because of the affects of his environment. "[I]n our contré is all the contrarye, for we beth in a clymate that / is of the mone and of leyght styryng, and that is the planete of way," writes Mandeville (Ln. 1543). "And therfore / hit gyveth us wyll to be moch steryng and to go into diverse contreis of the worlde, / for hit passeth aboute the worlde more leyghtlych than another planete." Although England and the Eastern Isles are both on the margins, they exist under different astrological powers. It is thus by the authority of the natural environment that the English are empowered with mobility and the peoples of the east are disabled. The English may enact the power to reify or resist the structuring of space while the bodies of Indians, hermaphrodites, and Amazons are bound to their place. In this way, the Isles are anti-loca to the Holy Lands but also to England.

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Thursday, December 17, 2015

"Cultural Territories of Disability" with Simi Linton


"What passes for disability representation in the arts 
is instead mostly fantasy about us."

Simi Linton
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Disability and Democracy

On December 3rd, 2015, Simi Linton spoke to a collection of several classes, as well as faculty and students in GWU's Crip/Queer Studies contingent. Her remarks, which she entitled, "Cultural Territories of Disability," took on the form of a seminar style dialog with the audience. Over the hour and a half, she examined the history and current contexts of disability in the public, the role of disability arts in democracy, and engaged students with a screening of some of her films that illustrate the lived affects art has on people with a diversity of embodiments. Professor David Mitchell introduced Linton and explained that her work has already been an influential part of his course which was now in its final weeks. Indeed, the event was a special treat for students who were able to receive a clarification and continuation of thoughts they had been stewing on all semester.

Throughout her talk, Linton expanded on what she meant by "bringing disability activism into the democracy through the arts." Turning back to the audience, she opened up the questions to the audience, "what is democracy?" and, "how does art influence disabling systems of power?" Various responses were offered, ranging from the formal center of government, major corporations, the media, and the micro-encounters of daily life. Democracy as an idea is then more than a mode of ruling a nation but a way of looking at society as made up of micro-communities of power that are constantly in flux. In such a view, it is not enough to simply pass legislation or elect representatives, but transform needs to occur along massively distributed and systematic channels. It is along these channels that power flows, in contrast to other theories of social interaction that put a greater emphasis on centers or organs of authority. As much as disability justice needs to penetrate these bastions of rulership in order to effect change, it also needs to effect the network of ideas, emotions, and daily acts that are not localizable to one place or person. Power exists between people, not merely in them.


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The Cultural Authority of Disability

At the start of her talk, Linton explained how her first book came out of a dinner at a restaurant with the desire to portray disability as an active mode of embodying the self and society rather than a passive state. As a discerning period, Linton decided that working in the academy would put too many limitations on her time, work, and conversations. In the end, she decided to leave the ivory tower of teaching, "to bring disability into the public" and use the arts to reorient societal orientations, "the cultural authority of disability." Disability justice requires mass participation in order to transform the physical and societal environments that disable those with non-normative embodiments. As Linton brought the audience into the conversation on disability culture, she spurred competition between classes in order to get a diversity of vantage points and to push the attending classes to see crip cultural authority as a good worth fighting to develop. 

At another stopping point, Linton and Mitchell discussed disability justice as working to move beyond the compulsory struggle "to be like the able-bodied" and to move instead into offering distinct vantages and goods as different kinds of crip bodies. This form of disability studies effectively is about a change of perspective, turning from exterior social view of disability to seeing the self and society from the disabled vantage. This "vantage," Linton stresses, combines a better understanding of crip knowledge (i.e. vantage points, the places and modes of how people perceive) and of crip power (i.e. advantage, the areas in which crip embodiments are better attuned to the world; perhaps suggestion a new way of conceiving of the "dis-advantage" of "dis-ability"). An implicit part of this shift in crip culture and justice is the movement of disability from being an object of study for those in the center of cultural authority to placing disability in the center of things then reviewing and reorienting from that vantage.


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Architecture of Exclusion 

Over the years disability representation and accommodations have increased under the banner of "multiculturalism," admits Linton, but observes that people often mistake and undermine what it means. In regards to the current state of multiculturalism in arts and the democracy, especially as it relates to disability, Linton notes, "more people know what multiculturalism is against rather than what it is for." As with feminism being portrayed as mere antagonism to men and masculinity, people (especially people of privilege) see multiculturalism as a demanding force (much like a whining child) to which they must continually make concessions. By this view, diversity is that ever present nag that invades the media and communities of straight, white ablebodied cisgender men and takes away things from them bit by bit. They frustratedly ask, "when is it enough for you people?" Yet this attitude shows that despite the little accommodations made, those people in power have not changed their sense of values. Disability and diversity (whether its women, people of color, queers, or trans people) remain groups of "others" who are less and have less than them. This vantage refuses to see diversity itself as a strength or the gifts that diverse peoples possess. But this concession of ideology would require the admission that for all their power, people of privilege are actually less able, less knowing, less rich than those over which they lord their whiteness or normativity. Once the admission is made, "their difference from me has value, authority, and power," suddenly disability and diversity becomes something to be desired and welcomed, not merely accommodated.

The need for the transformation of democracy is evident then not only in the big injustice of government but in the "micro-aggressions" that occur in every day life. Working with a term that has received some use and misunderstanding, Linton defines and nuances meaning of micro-aggressions as the daily acts of ableism that occur despite major social victories. Often, in fact, the "backlash" after concessions are finally made (however small) to disability justice can drastically increase in number and forms after a few major concessions. One example that Linton called on to illustrate this is what she calls, "the Architecture of Exclusion." She defines this as architecture that reflects a dismissal, devaluing, or even frustration with disability as a result of unwillingly making the concessions to design, such as ramps or automatic doors. In one case, documented in one of her films, the ramp of an art center was so hidden that it not only took her away and out of sight from the public (as if she in her wheelchair was a problem for the building's aesthetic) but was covered and narrow so that she felt isolated and confined. The ramp did not allow for her to travel alongside friends and thus cut off her ability to converse with others who used the ramp with her. Evidently, the ramp was not built for the pleasure of people in wheel chairs and indeed wanted them out of the way as much as possible. The cumulative effect was that she felt alienated and marginalized by the building's unwelcoming layout at the same moments concessions are being made.

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Other Crip/Queer Events at GWU




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As a writer, consultant and public speaker, Simi Linton is one of America’s foremost experts on disability and the arts. She works with a diverse range of cultural organizations – theatre companies, film and television producers, museums, non-profit arts companies, universities, and other groups across the country – to improve and increase the way disability is represented and depicted in all art forms.

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Sunday, December 13, 2015

Transgender and Childhood: Sympathizing with Stefonknee Wolscht


"It's a fresh start...
I'm living life like I couldn't"

Stephanie Wolscht
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Sister // Cister

I am sitting in the Glenbard West auditorium in Glen, Ellyn Illinois waiting for my sister to take the stage with the rest of her ballet class. I am eight years old. She is six. My sister has been practicing for weeks after kindergarten with a class of other young girls. The routines are basic - bending the knee, pointing the feet, small jumps (hops). The most difficult task for children at this stage seems to be coordination. The whole group must remember the moves, or be able to know enough to closely follow the teacher as she mirrors the positions off to the side, and execute them as a set. This involves working together over many nights to become comfortable with the other girls, be able to read and anticipate the other girls' movements, and work together as a cohesive group. Even if the leaps aren't very high (they are hops) and the poses are not perfectly straight lines, the overall effect of seven to nine girls moving in sequence to the music is fun and adorable. Beyond excellence in fine arts, the real goal of the dance class is to learn what it means to work as a group - and being able to perform the role of sweet girls in pink and black tights sufficiently for an auditorium of shutter-bug parents. Each used enough film to permit sending a copy to all friends and family who will feign interest (Note: growing up in the late 1980's we were decades away from the instant point-n-click digital phone cameras that make filming my own daughters much cheaper and more exact). All in all, between the group-building and performance, my sister and these girls were being indoctrinated into white, middle-class midwestern girlhood. And my sister looked damn cute doing it.

Listening to the violins and cellos launch the young ballerinas into a routine of circles, leaps, and bended knees, I remember a distant sadness tinged with frustration. I desired to be up there with my sister. This was not simply an attraction to the art-form and the pretty pixie-like outfits that accompanied it, but the fellowship with the other girls. Yet for my identification, traits, and desires I was assigned male at birth. So much of my life could have been different except for the trajectory that one final syllable of a three word sentence from a doctor ("It's a boy") that directed me for two decades. Had the medical professional clairvoyance to utter "girl" at the end or the radical pragmatism not to reduce the complex mental, emotional, sexual, hormonal, social system of gender down to a few misleading aspects of my biology my life could have turned out much differently. Certainly, if the field had been the same or leveled between my sister and me, I would have been down there with her on stage, dancing my little ballerina heart out. That however was not the way things happened then and there. As part of the educational and socializing process of making me into a proper boy, I had been daily drawn away from female friends and activities and oriented towards games with boys. While decidedly geeky boys, a few with feminine or queer flourishes of their own, the culture and community I was paired with kept the dance shoes and leaps at a distance from me. The closest I was ever brought was these old, knitted wool seats over metal frames that gave me a clear view of my sister and the education she was receiving.

Ironically, my sister eventually quit ballet. As we grew up and each learned to assert our own desires and disgusts, my sister increasingly threw away the pink and the frilly, while I coveted them even in their going. I didn't begrudge her discarding ballet or the other normative accouterment of girlhood, although I was sad to learn that she did so out of pressure from her friends. They were hers to do with what she would. Yet in ways neither of us had complete control over how we were and would become women. Don't get me wrong, some of it she was able to own and enjoy. Other parts she would reclaim later in life. She can tart it up with the best of us now that we are adults and be a real knock out. She can also knock you out with a right hook to the face if you call her that in the wrong tone. (Note: despite being younger, my cute but stone-cold tough sister looked out for me a lot growing up and still does today). All things considered, for myself, I simply envied her ability to say "No" to ballet; even as we are never offered a full choice. There were parts of girl culture I may not have wanted either, especially its compulsory surrender and subjugation to the power and privilege the boys were being prepared to inherit from the reigning forms of patriarchy.  Those I would not wish on any girl. Yet I desired the choice, the liberty, the power of refusing a thing that was offered. I wanted the offer to come as though this too were my birthright, as if the sisterhood welcomed me as own of its own. Without such doors being opened and young trans girls invited inside, it can and did take years for me to knock on those gates on my own - and where I found them barred against me to push, pry, and break down the barricades - and claim the womanhood (along with the assorted dance shoes and lessons) that I was not offered.


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The Loss of Stephanie Wolscht

"She said stop being trans or leave. So that - to me - stop being trans was not something I could do," says Stefonknee Wolscht as part of the Transgender Project film series. "I was trans before me married. I was a trans parent for twenty-three years. It floored me. It scared me. Because I didn't know how to not be trans." At the age of forty-six, Wolscht came out as a trans woman to her family, a wife and seven children. After her wife's rejection of her, she became alienated from her family of many years, a loss anti-transgender media blames on her decision to transition. In fact, while Wolscht experienced homelessness as well as joblessness because of being transgender, the press continues to publish stories of her life, painting her as a villain: Transgender father Stefonknee Wolschtt (52) leaves family to live life as six-year-old girl. As a result, Wolscht moved forward, making changes to her life on the basis that she would never be accepted by her current family. "It's a fresh start," says Wolscht. "I can't deny that I was married. I cant deny I have children. But I've moved forward. I have gone back to be a child.... I just live my life like I couldn't when I was in school." She now has new adopted parents and sister. At first she lived as eight-years-old until her younger sister wanted to be the older sibling. At her sister's request, she now lives as a six-year-old. In addition to her new family life, Wolscht also works a snow-plow and helps raise awareness about the diversity of ways and reasons to transition gender. She remains a practicing Catholic as well as a transgender advocate. In particular, she pushes what she calls, "play therapy." "No medication, no suicide thoughts," claims Wolscht. "And I just get to play." As part of the Transgender Project, Wolscht's story furthers its goal to archive and reflect, "the broad diversity that exists within the trans community itself." Rather than trying to judge and stratify the different people and ways to be trans, the Transgender Project shares and celebrates lives from across Canada as as the personal, particular stories they are.

Despite and because of the counter-normative aspects of Wolstch's story, there are reasons to sympathize with and defend her story. Her narrative came to me through a friend who wanted my opinion on an article, "Fifty-Two Year Old Man Living As Six-Year Old Girl. Seriously." First, it should be observed that in this relatively short article references as it's only scholarly authority Dr. Paul McHugh, a former psychiatrist-in-chief at John Hopkins Hospital, one of the only professional psychiatrists in the academy that out right opposes "transgenderism" as a mental disease to be fixed. Dr. McHugh's anti-transgender theories have been debunked by decades of scholarship and professional health organizations, includingThe American Medical Association, the American Psychological Association, the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology, the American Psychiatric Society, the American Public Health Association, and the World Professional Association for Transgender HealthYet nearly every time an article or group wishes to demonize a transgender person they trot him out as their source. That sets up this article from the onset as an attack against the transgender justice movement by pulling out members of the transgender community that may be considered less palatable as a way of painting the whole community. We saw similar attacks happening simply when transgender was used as an analogy in the discussion of a "trans racial" person. Before saying anything else, we must ask the question: why do we need to give an opinion about this person? What is to be gained by judging, condemning, or promoting this person's story? The age and the gender matter do not seem automatically related. The subculture of living as a different age has many members although it is rather taboo still to the public. 

Where I see transgender and transitioning age intersecting is evident in her story: that society had already turned its back on her, she was already marginalized, already queer, so what is to be gained by playing by society's rules? "I'm gender queer, I'm queer... I'm queer," Wolscht stutters in her interview, acknowledging the many ways that she diverges away from normative rules of gender, sexuality, and maturity. Indeed, Wolstch's story shows how culture tells us that there are only a few acceptable ways to be normal but nearly infinite ways to be different, so why not revel in that freedom that comes with being an outcast? Dealing with the absences and failures of our childhood during adulthood is something we all experience in our own ways. For the trans community this is often goes beyond those of non-transgender people. One important issue that I believe her story brings to the forefront is that because many trans people are not able to transition until later in life, many of us are denied the childhoods of our cisters and cis-brothers. People are more aware of the effects of transition on our future trajectories but not enough consider the lived experiences that transitioning has on our pasts. I've had close friends looking through pictures of us all together in high-school, point to me pre-transition and ask, "Who is that?" Others tell me, "I keep thinking that is your brother, not you!" I bring this up to substantiate my empathy for a trans woman who has decided to live out the girlhood she was denied as a child. For her this is not necessarily a regression, more like a do-over or an example of living one's lifetime non-linearly. "There are days I forget my past," claims Wolscht. "I can actually go a week without even thinking about what was before."  Again, how many of us watch movies, buy classic games, eat foods, or go places that we did as a child or were denied as a child as a form of revisiting and taking ownership of our childhood.




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Once Again from the Beginning

I am in the Glenbard West auditorium waiting for a new class of ballet students to take the stage. I am eighteen and working the sound and light board earning money as a theater technician for the school. I press a button on the light board to bring up the next program in the cue. The stage shifts from moody blues and purples to a friendly pink and yellow. A whole change in emotion and experience with a simple click of a button. If only life and gender were so simple. Stepping out of the booth, I pad down the steps of the balcony overlooking the stage and floor seating below. Dim pink lights spill over the performers and paints my face. The music is so sweet I can feel it in my teeth. The high notes are spiking the sound system causing the compressors to kick in momentarily and equalize the volume. I take note to lower the levels on the mixing board. Before I head back up, I observe the performers and audience. There are a few more boys on stage. A few more dads in the audience too. But had any of those boys (or fathers for that matter) said, "I'm actually a girl," that would be a sissone en avent too far. This was a time and place where you would hear, "It's okay to be gay!" spoken in public by the same people who in private would say, "did you hear that Tim and Jill's daughter is a lesbian? I feel so sorry for them." As far as I recall, I never heard the word "transgender" spoken aloud in my town. Even in PRISM, our "gay-straight alliance" (a phrase which more or less accurately described a group that for most of my years consisted of one open gay man and a bunch of "straight" friends from theater - most of whom would come out or transition in college), we would use the term LGBT without ever stating aloud what the T represented. No, as far as Glen Ellyn was willing to admit and accept, there were no open and proud trans kids in its school. At some point, I turned back to the lighting and sound booth to make this a great show for for all those trans kids who were and weren't yet welcomed; plus their cisters and brothers too.

It wasn't until years later, in college, that I finally signed myself up for ballet courses. I was a couple years into my public transition. My friends and roommates knew I had started taking lessons but few of them knew my history with dance. They saw black tights and new shoes. I saw a new chance to own my life. No, I wasn't claiming or trying to be eight - or six - years old. But I was finally giving myself something I hadn't been offered as a child. I was giving myself permission to dance. I had also given myself permission to go further. After all, ballet is never simply about the dancing. Over my years in college, I came out as a woman, and as transgender. Transitioning to bring my life and body back in line took work, coming in many forms and stages. I don't need to go through them here and now. Importantly, once again, most my friends were women; many of them dancers. Because I transitioned later, as a young woman, my friends and I did not share the same kind of girlhood, that time had passed. One possible exception became evident when I came out to my sister, however. By another uncanny twist of personality, at the same time that I was in college becoming a ballerina, my sister was in high school, adopting to wearing a black leather jacket and working with the technical theater kids in the sound and lighting booth. This would be a profession and a look she would keep and add modify (with buzzed hair and nose-ring) into her twenties as she pursues work in the film industry. She can also be sweet and pretty as hell. When I came out to her, told her I was transitioning, she laughed. Not at me but at herself. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "growing up I just always said you were one pair of tits away from being my sister. Now I feel bad." Don't, I told her as we hugged. She was right. It was a wisdom and truth she derived from our experiences together from when I first held her in my arms as a newborn until we held each other in my college apartment. We had a different childhood but we were always there for each other, in our own ways, as sister and cister. That's something I'd never want to change.
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Sunday, December 6, 2015

#TransformHate: On Violence Against Transgender Women


"It feels better biting down"

Lorde
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Someone, maybe me, should say something intellectual, researched, and articulate about assault against women, queers, and trans persons of all kinds, but that is not me right now. This is now. This is personal.

I was recently victim to multiple kinds and levels of assault on a train car filled by young cismen. Days later, I'm still angry.

Thought about tweets I made on how my PhD, family, articles, and invites to the White House don't matter to actors of public violence.

If I am found raped, beaten or dead on a train in Baltimore, the perpetrators won't have asked or cared about my credentials.


No one who has ever shouted at me, mocked me, stared at me, moved their children away from me, taken my picture, or touched me in public without my permission have ever asked me who I am.

Who I am doesn't protect me. I have a box full of the names and stories of people whose names and stories didn't protect them. Hate doesn't ask.

In life we are made individual & isolated, in death we are all alike & together; in a box that asks the question: will you be me when I'm gone? 


The anger won't heal me. But there it is. Men put it in me like a rapist's child. It's an invader in my body & it grows. For me, the labor is mine, to birth it into something better than those who gave it me.

A feminist friend of mine once asked, "What's the point in fighting anymore? Nothing is going to change." The best I can offer is to say, we fight because we can't not fight. Because it feels better biting down.

#TransformHate

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