Saturday, October 25, 2008

Doniger

Doniger’s chapter about women’s voices in myths raised a number of questions for me about the role and effect of women’s voices in narrative, and whether a woman’s narrative can be said to exist.
Doniger begins by citing the tradition of ‘old wives’ tales’. These stories were often physically voiced by women, and the implication is also that they were told for women. Yet what genders a particular story? Is it the physical narrator, the subject, the content, or the subject matter? Does the physical telling of a story mean that a woman has a voice in that particular story, or must ‘voice’ be something that is written into the material, rather than an agent of transmission? H.M. and N.K. Chadwick believe that there is female content in the story of David, and this is what makes the story ‘by/for’ women (Doniger 112), yet Holbek says it’s the subject, and the subject’s predicament that genders the story. However, neither content nor subject are guarantors of the story’s female-ness, for as Doniger points out, many stories with powerful women or goddess end with the women being undercut, subverted or destroyed in some way.
“Often the stories told by women do not seem to express a woman’s point of view at all” (Doniger 117) for sometimes the female narrator presents male bias, and sometimes the male narrator speaks sympathetically about women’s position. Although there is a problem with gendering a story one way or another and speculating on whether one story is for women, and another against women. One runs into problems, essentializing women to certain traits, and the other, of ascribing them a political agenda as part of their essentiality. Doniger points this out when she says that not all stories that portray women in a bad light are the sole products of men and likewise, stories that portray women in a good light are the sole products of women. She mentions qualities such as class, age, beauty, and race that are factors by which women differentiate themselves and denigrate one another in their stories. There is not always a common interest shared by old wives’ tales.
Another point that I found interesting was Doniger’s assertion that women’s stories were also the result of a subaltern identity absorbing the cultural mores of the dominant group, thus “even women authors will share the dominant mythology of their clture; they learn and assimilate the images that men have of them, and express those images in their own storytelling” (Doniger 119). Doniger seems to be drawing on the Foucauldian notion of modern discipline wherein discipline works in and through people to the point where it becomes second nature, and ultimately, natural. Story-telling occupies this liminal territory wherein on the one hand the authors can absorb and express dominant hierarchies in their stories, and on the other hand, have the ability to subvert them. This potential of subversion is also expressed, “just as the dominated often reproduce the opinions of the dominators, so it is also true, though less so and less well known, that the dominators mirror the opinions of the dominated” (122). And yet, while I agree that this is part of the process of the interaction between dominant and dominated discourses, I don’t see it as a 50-50 exchange. While I understand that one culture can be influenced by the culture it suppressed, in the way the European subject is constructed by its production of the Other, I think that Doniger gives the sub-altern a stronger identity than it actually has. In Spivak’s “Can the Subaltern Speak?” Spivak defines the subaltern as that “whose identity is its difference, there is no unrepresentable subaltern subject that can know and speak itself” (324). The subaltern by virtue of being the subaltern exists on the fringes, because it is the Other, not the Subject. It never speaks for itself, but is spoken to or spoken for. The subaltern does not have access to language, which is the property of the Subject, they are historically mute. Spivak points to the double silencing discourse of androcentrism and colonialism that construe the subaltern as Other, thereby denying it participation in the discourse of subject-hood: “Between patriarchy and imperialism, subject-constitution and object-formation, the figure of the woman disappears, not into pristine nothingness, but into a violent shuttling which is the displaced figuration of the ‘third-world woman’ caught between tradition and modernization” (Spivak 337).
This isn’t to say I agree with Spivak entirely either, for I think that Spivak exists at an extreme end of the spectrum, utterly denying the possibility of women’s vocality. However, it is useful for me to contrast Spivak with Doniger when it comes to the possibility of hearing women’s voices in the stories, whether they be old wives’ tales or otherwise. And after all that, I’m still undecided on the level of agency women’s voices possess in text…

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Feminism

The role of feminism in religious studies seems to act as a destabilizer in much the same that deconstruction does. Deconstruction is a mode of thinking that never allows a field to become content with the answers it has found. It questions ‘givens’; thus forcing the field of inquiry to re-examine and perhaps reformulate itself. Feminism questions the ‘givenness’ of the male centred bias at the heart of religious studies. Texts, symbols, and cultural descriptions were collected by predominantly male religious studies scholars during the 19th and 20th century and are thus permeated with a hierarchy that ignores the role and status of women in various religious traditions. Feminism aims to destabilize the hierarchy in order to rescue women from marginalized roles, and generally improve their status. It is far more politically oriented then deconstruction.
In Engendering Religion, Clarke makes a good point on page 227, wherein she questions the category of women’s experience. Generally I find ‘religious experience’ a problematic term on which to base the study of religions because it is an inherently individual experience which does not lend itself to empirical classification. Additionally, it is difficult to use experience as a basis for comparison as if it had some inherent objective reality of its own because, according to Proudfoot, experience is constituted by the norms and the language of the culture that produces it. If experience is created by language, and differs from culture to culture, it becomes more difficult to assert that experience has a core of meaning which all cultures share. On page 245 Clarke speaks about gender as an analytic/descriptive category that needs to be re-examnied in order to de-naturalize and de-familiarize ‘taken for granted beliefs’ in order to critique them.
On page 235 Clarke speaks about the change that social sciences are undergoing, from scientific to literary paradigms. I believe that religious studies has been undergoing the same kind of shift. From the 19th century “science” of the study of religions, better known as the History of Religions movement, we are now moving toward a field in which literary theory is as much a part of the study as social-scientific theory. Post-colonialism, feminism, and deconstructionism are viable lenses with which to look at religion, and these all take their cues from literary theory developments in the 20th century.
Another comment that struck me was the idea on page 247 that Foucault does not allow for agency within his power structures. I believe this is inaccurate because the fact that institutions of power have to be constantly re-asserting themselves speaks to the possibility of resistance which is forcing them to respond in such a manner. Thus the fact that many religious traditions feel the need to continually re-assert gender roles, means that gender roles are not inherently stable or given.
In the Kinsley article, what I found interesting was the comment on page 9 wherein Kinsley states that when men misinterpret female symbols as male symbols, they miss the essential nature. I find this a very modernist (as opposed to post-modern) understanding because this assume that symbols have an internal coherence, and an objective reality. Symbols are referents, and are therefore multi-valent. A symbol doesn’t refer to only one other thing, it can refer to many different types of things, and this tendency of a symbol to gesture outwards precludes essentiality in my view. I also found the comment on page 12 very interesting, Kinsley points to the tendency of most field of inquiries to fall into the trap of objectification. In this particular case Kinsley points to the objectification of non-western women by western women. This occurs when western women are presented with a cultural practice that they cannot understand, and therefore they react by explaining it away. Is it the nature of comparative religions to always see an “Other”? Can we really ever escape our own vantage point and speak of an “us” as opposed to a “them”?
In the Young article, there is mention made of feminists trying to remove the false consciousness that patriarchy has encouraged among people over the years. However, when one removes a ‘false consciousness’ what remains behind? Is it reasonable to assume that the opposite of a certain kind of consciousness means a neutral consciouness or all consciousnesses somehow politically motivated?
And finally, I will address the phrase “Facts are not facts at all”. The term facts connotes an objective neutrality that pertains directly to reality. A fact is a fact by virtue of its accurate representation of things as they really are in themselves. A feminist critiques the idea that there is an objective viewpoint from which these facts can be constructed. If reality is shaped by conceptions and webs of meaning, and not by any ‘real’ referent, then ‘fact’ participates in this cultural constructedness, and does not have any inherent reality or objectivity.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Friday, October 3, 2008

Clark, History, Theory, Text

Of all the literary critics mentioned in this piece I think that for the field of religious studies, Ricouer offers one of the most relevant way to critique texts. He is glossed over quite quickly in this survey, which is a pity, because he offers a way to read post-structurally without becoming too frustrated by some more post-structural critics like Barthes, who demand an “infinite deferral of meaning” when reading. I also find a description of Ricoeur resonates with my own feelings on the relationship between author-text.
Ricouer, along with many other theorists believed that it was impossible to try to recall the past, one can never hope to understand the conditions of existence in the author’s lifetime, or the lifetime of the text’s original readers; the best one can do is understand how that text can speak to you. The text bridges the existential gap when readers appropriate the texts and make them speak to their own existence through the hermeneutical act. The reader then creates new textual meaning in the act of appropriating the text to their own time and life-experience.
However, the frustrating part for any scholar is that this approach seems to validate every reading, no matter how absurd it is. However, Ricoeur allows for the restriction of meaning within a text: firstly, by the structure of the text itself, structures like events, or chronology which govern the possible interpretations to a certain extent. Secondly, the meanings are restricted by the life experiences, opinions and pre-suppositions of the readers themselves and finally restriction by a community of readers. This last one is a little problematic because in “What is a Text” Ricoeur just sort of tacks it on without much explanation. Despite the plurality of meanings, the individual reading is subject to a “majority” reading, which seems to go against the “constant capacity for renewal” that is inherent in the text.
Ricoeur is a religious thinker, and his literary theory reflects this. For Ricoeur, the ultimate purpose/function of text is the discovery of existential truth through self-critical acts as arrived at from an interpretation of text. Therefore, with every act of interpretation, the understanding that results because of it is a result of the reader’s life experience and presuppositions to the discourse of the text. Since our acts of interpretation are subjective, any meaning we find in a text must be reflected back onto us, as an expression of how we uniquely view the world and our being in it.

Ricouer’s thoughts on the truth about ourselves that reading offers resonates with me. Throughout this class we’ve been talking about bracketing our biases, and the need for us to thoroughly examine the context from which we read and write. Ricoeur’s hermeneutics are almost a celebration of our presuppositions’ effect upon the text, because they lead to a better self-understanding. Yet I don’t think that the entire goal of reading is to discover existential truth about ourselves, as Ricoeur’s program would have it; though understanding the text by what we bring to it is a valuable exercise in self-criticism. Secondly, I think it is important to have some restrictions on textual meaning: wikipedia functions because there is a panel of regulators, and in the same way, I think there need to be some checks within scholarship. Ricoeur walks a fine line, by encouraging this constant fluidity between the text and reader while at the same acknowledging that there is an end to this process. (Barthes would disagree, so would Derrida, for to them, this is closing the text and therefore rendering it irrelevant.) While I really appreciate Derrida, I find it hard to put into practice what he calls for, namely, this constant uncertainty, and this constant possibility. Therefore for me, Ricoeur’s thought presents a way to interact with texts in a post-structuralist, semi-post-modern way, yet with the comfort of being able to settle on a particular interpretation.

In regards to the question about context, I do think there is a place for context in literary theory although I disagree with using context as a way of digging into the text in the search for one, monolithic meaning or truth. However, context, in a variety of forms, both the historical context (although we must be careful to explain how we chose the particular historical context that we think is authoritative) and the other texts with which this particular text participates can inform the reader as they construct their own text in the process of reading. Context is not the beyond-all, end-all, but it can leave traces which the reader then appropriates in their own discourse.