It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s…it’s…it’s an it!
Middlesex has got to be the best book to end our semester. Not only was it actually written fairly recently (to my great surprise; the author’s style made me think the book was written in the ’80s), but the book touches on so many topics we discussed: The pros and cons of scientia sexualis; constructs of gender and orientation (think Weeks, Norton, Luce & Co. — like a bad law firm); race; the murky field of female friendships; and taboo.
But what interests me most now that I’ve read the book is “the American belief that everything can be solved by doctors” (426). Lefty and Desdemonda, as true Greeks, rely on the local lore for an understanding of the world around them; but as their world falls apart, they disregard the rules and create their own lives. Tessie and Milton, the next generation, straddle the fence — they rely on modern medicine (remember basal temperature?) to conceive a child, but their knowledge comes from “old world” Greek friends. And finally, Callie (through her parents) is expected to follow the doctor’s orders to the T. But she doesn’t. Instead, like her grandparents, she finds her own way of living: as a man, as a star in a burlesque, as an ambassador.
But I still propose a defense of the doctor, for I found the idea of “fixing” Callie to be a girl because she was raised as one to be a very valid point. There is something thoroughly modern in the idea — the doctor wants to keep Callie the way she is instead of forcing her to be simply what her biology says she is. But it becomes social constructivism gone wrong — the doctor takes it too far. He does not ask Callie for her opinion; he works with a web of misinformation and poor communication. And then there is the potential of Callie never being able to feel anything post-surgery. But had the doctor been open from the start, would Callie have chosen differently? Luce had a point, after all. Callie was girl; she never felt like a man. He interest in women could have as easily be seen as a matter of sexual orientation, not gender. Though she was too tall, too lanky, too uncoordinated to be a feminine woman, she could still have been a woman. She would need to take hormones, the way her mother needed waxing, to look properly lady-like. And yes, by taking those hormones, she is altering her body the way waxing eyebrows or a mustache doesn’t. For Callie, hormones would have been the establishment, finally, of scientifically accepted identity. And of a label. By refusing, she created for herself that “third sex”: Not fully man, but not a woman either. A space, floating. Neither here nor there, like her grandparents before her.
A Study of Gender in Real Life
I occasionally babysit a boy who used to cross-dress. From about age 1 and 1/2 until his third birthday, he like to imitate “girl stuff.” His family was totally fine with whatever he chose to do: He wore his sister’s old nightgowns, carried a purse, and wore a pink head band. He had a horrible pair of boy’s white dress shoes someone gave him for a costume; he wore those ugly, girly shoes every day until they fell apart. He wore a fake, glittery silver watch with pink hour- and minute-hands.
Sometimes his aunt would teasingly call him Janet instead of Joshua (his given name) — and if you asked him why people would call him Janet, he’d say, in a squeaky little voice, “Because I wear nightgowns!” Thus, he was oddly aware of gender differences, even though he chose to break those barriers. He knew the girl’s nightgown was “girly,” and he knew he was a boy, and he knew boys did not usually wear headbands and dresses. But he still wore them.
I expected his mother to freak out a little at the thought of her son going girl, but his cross-dressing was OK with her. I think this was because she knew he was into girl stuff thanks to his big sister (who was and still is stereotypically — almost painfully — female, from her silver slip-ons to her pink headbands). Had he been her first child and still developed the cute little obsession with girly things, she might have been less willing to accept his behaviors. But with such a strong, feminine girl as his big sister, who could be surprised that he wanted to model her sense of fashion, her behavior?
Sometimes I wonder if it was indeed the influence of his big sister, and sometimes I think otherwise — I still remember hearing stories of a second- or third-cousin of mine who cross-dressed as a kid. When that relative turned 16, he told his family he was gay, and promptly moved to a kibbutz in Israel. (Yes, my family is colorful). Does the interest in girls’ stuff foreshadow Joshua’s eventual orientation? I don’t know. Meanwhile, I don’t pressure him. If he wants to play with dolls, we play with dolls; if he wants to play with trucks, we play with trucks. I don’t question him on his gender much, and sometimes I think we’re making too big of a deal by even wondering what his choices and feelings will be when he gets older. I think I ought to let go. Labels, as the saying goes, are for jars. Not for children. Easier said than done, though.
Note: I haven’t yet read the two articles Professor Quinby posted — they won’t download for some reason, so I’m not sure how they will influence our reading.
Tags: femininity, gender roles, scientia sexualis, social constructivism
