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Beyond
Women's Studies
A
name change and a reorganization of the 20-year-old women's studies
program reflect the evolution of a discipline born of the politics
of feminism. Now, women's and gender studies is asking broader questions
about what we mean when we say "man" and "woman."
December
1998
by Mark Alden Branch
Next
month, sociology professor Joshua Gamson will make Yale history.
In an era marked at Yale and around the world by "first women" (as
in "first woman astronaut," "first woman attorney general," or "first
woman provost"), Gamson will become the first man to chair Yale
College's women's and gender studies program. While Gamson's appointment
itself is far from earth-shaking -- it is a one-term acting position
-- it is an apt symbol of the evolution of what was until this year
called "women's studies." As a gay man, Gamson represents the expansion
of the field to encompass broader issues of gender and sexuality
-- and to attract students with a wider range of interests.
Born
of the women's movement of the 1960s, women's studies was intended
originally as a corrective to what feminist scholars saw as academia's
inattention to the role women played in the study of literature,
history, psychology, sociology, and other disciplines. "Our early
attempts were about restoring something to the curriculum that had
been overlooked," says women's and gender studies director of undergraduate
studies Laura Green, "and that was merely the lives of one half
of humanity."
But all
this new attention to the place of women in the past and present
led to an interesting development, says Green. "Once there's been
a systematic effort to restore consciousness about women, it becomes
easy to recognize that it is not only women who have gender," says
Green. "You start to notice that ideas of gender shape the lives
of men as much as women."
Scholarship
in what has become known as "gender
studies" -- the interdisciplinary study of societal notions
of what "male" and "female" mean -- has joined more traditional
work in women's studies at universities across the nation. Meanwhile,
the links between gender and sexuality have made women's studies
departments a receptive home for the nascent field of lesbian and
gay studies. Accordingly, last year Yale's women's studies program
changed its name to women's and gender studies and unveiled a new
structure that allows students to choose one of three tracks within
the major: women's studies, gender studies, or lesbian, gay, bisexual,
and transgender studies.
"We're
trying to repackage what we've been offering all along,"
said current chair Margaret Homans of the name change. "This is
really our presentation catching up to the reality of our program."
Along
with the name change, the program announced another sign of its
growing stature last spring, when social psychologist Marianne LaFrance
of Boston College was appointed professor of women's and gender
studies and of psychology, becoming the first professor to hold
a tenured position in the program.
(The rest of the tenured faculty who teach in the program are appointed
by their respective departments.)
The expansion
of the program comes despite the continued protests of some traditional
academics and political conservatives, who portray women's studies
and ethnic studies programs as academically soft and politically
correct. "Universities are often reacting to elements that the society
is concerned with and not focusing on what our students need to
learn," said Donald Kagan, Hillhouse Professor of Classics and History,
when the reorganization was announced.
Still,
the popularity of the program is growing, along with other interdisciplinary
major programs at Yale that transcend the University's departmental
structure, and offer students alternative ways to focus their liberal
educations. Managed by interdisciplinary faculty councils, the programs
draw from a number of the University's humanities and social science
departments. The most established of these programs are the literature
major, the humanities major, and American studies (where women's
studies began 20 years ago as a track); more recent programs include
African-American studies, Judaic
studies, and the five "area studies" programs that look at regions
of the world.
Laura
Green, who is teaching the introductory women's and gender studies
course this year, says it is a challenge to address philosophy,
psychology, literature, history, and other disciplines in one course.
"The wonderful thing, though, is that it helps the students begin
to see that the disciplines are all related," says Green. "Despite
different methods and vocabularies, they're addressing the same
questions."
Because
students come to the program -- which Homans says usually graduates
six to eight majors each year -- with a wide range of interests,
they are given the latitude to design their own majors to a certain
degree, although they must take a series of core courses, choose
a track, and identify a concentration. Some concentrations are in
departments such as English, history, or sociology, but others are
thematic focusing on gender and violence or gender and development
in Latin America.
Homans's
own work has evolved from feminist literary criticism (Like Green,
her faculty appointment is in the English department) to a broader
interest in the role gender plays in cultural history. Her upcoming
book, Royal Representations, deals with how Victorian England
viewed its queen in a time when women lacked political representation.
Looking at Victoria's own writings and at the way she was represented
by others, Homans asks the question, "What did it mean for British
culture to have a queen?"
Much
of the work in women's studies has been devoted to answering such
questions and to unearthing the often hidden history of women's
lives. But increasingly, attention is being paid to more
basic questions about the nature of the categories we call male
and female. At the core of recent scholarship in gender studies
is Simone de Beauvoir's famous contention that "one is not born
a woman; one becomes one." Scholars are trying to sort out which
accepted gender differences are the result of biology and which
are "socially constructed," to use a favorite term of the discipline.
While no one denies that there are, with extremely rare exceptions,
two sexes -- that is, people can be classed according to two different
kinds of reproductive organs -- much of the rest of what constitutes
gender seems to be in flux these days. In exploring how and why
we assign particular roles to men and women, scholars in gender
studies are naturally drawn to the exceptions to norms -- what Joshua
Gamson calls "category disruptions."
"One
way to see how gender is socially constructed is by looking at transgendered
people, those who change their gender identification through their
dress or by having their bodies surgically altered," says Gamson,
who teaches a course called "Sexual Diversity and Social Change."
"It's an opportunity to think about the notion that gender could
be organized differently. The same is true with bisexuality, which
can make trouble for the idea that all we've got are 'gay' and 'straight.'"
Gender
studies also means applying some of the particular attention women's
concerns have received in various disciplines to men's as well.
Green says that women's studies, with its attention to gender issues,
has awakened literary critics to the idea of looking for themes
about masculinity in literature where they might have been overlooked
before. "So much of Moby Dick seems to be about norms of
masculinity -- what it means to be a man. But before feminist theory,
we might only have said that it's about how to be an individual."
Similarly,
psychology has evolved because of research into gender differences.
Marianne LaFrance says that psychologists have for years defined
good psychological health according to male standards. "In psychology,
'universal' behavior was once synonymous with male behavior," she
recalls. "But if we're going to understand the species, we need
to look at women."
LaFrance's
role in that endeavor has been a close examination of nonverbal
communication in women's interactions with each other and with men.
"I have always been interested in how facial expressions, tone of
voice, posture, and gesture affect interactions," she says. To that
end, she has set up videotaped experiments in which "we bring people
together to have 'getting to know you' conversations or listen to
jokes. Then, afterwards, we look at the videotapes in excruciatingly
obsessive detail." In a recent experiment, for example, she found
that women who listen to jokes may report being offended to an interviewer
afterwards, but their facial expressions indicate enjoyment while
listening to the joke.
LaFrance
says that from her early attention to women, she has moved into
more general questions: What role does gender play in social
psychology, and when does it play it?"Now, questions are being raised
in psychology about maleness: the costs of emotional suppression,
the repercussions of competitiveness and inexpressivity." She cites
research into the development of facial expression that shows that
children of both sexes up to the ages of 4 or 5 are able to express
more and more emotional states. But while girls continue to expand
their range of expressions, boys "shut down" as social norms begin
to regulate their behavior.
Like
women's studies and African-American studies, the relatively new
field of lesbian and gay studies grew out of a civil-rights movement.
And like those fields, its scholars often tend to develop their
work in response to life experiences as members of the group in
question. Josh Gamson, for example, developed the idea for his recent
book when a chorus of public figures ranging from Book of Virtues
author William Bennett to Connecticut senator Joseph Lieberman began
decrying many talk shows for their sensationalistic fascination
with sexual deviance. While many liberal-minded citizens agreed,
Gamson had a different reaction. While he has no illusions about
the motives of the shows' producers, he saw in them a rare chance
for people with different sexual or gender orientations to be heard,
even if in distorted ways.
"They
just bring on 'weird' people and let them tell their stories," says
Gamson. "As a gay man, hearing people say these shows should be
shut down sounded very different to me than it might to someone
else. How is this different from 'don't ask, don't tell?'" Gamson's
reaction to the debate was the beginning of his book Freaks Talk
Back, an examination of television talk shows "as a scholar
and as a viewer."
Yale's
academic position on lesbian and gay studies was made clear last
year, when playwright and activist Larry
Kramer '57 revealed that the University had turned down his
offer to leave his estate to Yale to support two endowed chairs
in lesbian and gay studies. (Kramer's original proposal called for
professors of "gay male literature," but he amended it at the urging
of faculty.) The University rejected the gift, according to provost
Alison Richard, because the
field is too new to warrant the commitment of permanent funds. The
University tried to persuade Kramer to fund an existing series of
visiting professorships instead, but to no avail.
Those
visiting professorships, which are funded by a gift from Stephen
T. Baker '67, are administered by the seven-year-old Fund for Lesbian
and Gay Studies Committee (FLAGS). Chair Charles A. Porter, a professor
of French, says the committee was formed to direct the spending
of a small endowment for research grants, but that it soon "became
a focal point for lesbian and gay academic activities." When Baker's
gift and others came in, the committee was able to fund undergraduate
research, establish a small office, and, most important, hire a
visiting professor to teach an introduction to lesbian and gay studies
and other courses. The group also puts out a guide it calls the
"Pink Book" that lists courses dealing with lesbian and gay themes.
"At the
same time women's studies was seeking to transform itself, FLAGS
was considering what kind of program we should be aiming toward:
building an independent program or infiltrating regular academic
departments," says Porter. "The majority of the committee preferred
the former." FLAGS helped the women's and gender studies program
devise the lesbian and gay studies track.
While
lesbian and gay studies may seem like a more permanent part of the
landscape because of the new track, Porter says its future is uncertain
because of financial questions. The funding for the Baker professorship,
which is held this year by Alexandra Chasin of Boston College, runs
out at the end of the year. So FLAGS has begun a fund-raising drive
that relies heavily on members of Yale's Gay and Lesbian Alumni
organization (GALA). The goal of the Campaign for Lesbian and Gay
Studies is $1.5 million, enough to fund the visiting professorship
for another ten years.
"We're
now a major track, which makes it more important to support the
professorship," says Porter. "If we don't get new money in the fund,
that required course is in jeopardy."
Many
conservative critics continue to dismiss women's and gender studies
-- along with African-American
studies and other culturally based programs -- as academically
suspect bastions of leftist politics. While faculty within the program
defend the academic rigor of their scholarship and teaching, they
don't deny that politics plays a role in the discipline.
"We did
emerge out of a political movement," says Green. "It is impossible
to divorce ourselves from that history. It is impossible not to
teach it as a discipline that is interested in change -- in the
same way that physics is committed to increasing our understanding
of the physical world."
Joshua
Gamson agrees, but says it's a mistake to assume that academia has
traditionally been politically neutral. He suggests that all teachers -- and all disciplines -- bring a set of social and political assumptions
to their studies, whether it be English, classics, or international
studies. "The critics think we're politicizing the University, when
in fact all teaching is inherently political," he says. "But because
we're making it more explicit in our work, the politics are more
visible."
Green
says that students don't have to accept the feminist theory they
encounter in her class. "It is important to me to make a broad variety
of students comfortable dipping their toe in here," she says. "Students
don't have to agree with what they read, but they must try to figure
out why these people felt as they did."
While
Green says Yale is a relatively supportive place for women's studies,
there is still doubt about the program among faculty and alumni.
She says this doubt, along with the belief that the discipline still
has a great deal of work to do to redress the underrepresentation
of women (and scholarship about women) in academia, led to the decision
to keep "women" as part of the program's name. (Other schools have
gone with simply "gender studies.")
"It seemed
important not to bury the history," says Green. Marianne LaFrance
is more blunt. "Any time the word 'woman' disappears," she warns,
"we must be wary."
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