In this podcast, Rachel Berryman and I discuss the many problems and pleasures of Outlander season two. Topics include: adaptation, the romance genre, and narrative; the female gaze and spectatorship; and the shifting construction of Jamie as an object of desire. We hope you enjoy it and thank you for listening!
CONTENT NOTE: This podcast includes a discussion of rape tropes and rape narratives in Outlander.
In this podcast, Carmel Cedro and I discuss the female gaze. Topics include: the difference between a male gaze and a female gaze; the importance of this gaze in popular cultural texts; the potential for a fluid female gaze; and the representation of sex, desire and eroticism in contemporary screen media. This podcast ended up being a double episode because we just had so much to discuss! We hope you enjoy it x
In this podcast, Dr Jodi McAlister and I discuss the wonderful world of fandoms and fan practices, particularly those that appeal to girls and women as a way of exploring desire and agency. Some of the topics we chat about include: shipping (shipping against the grain or with the grain; anti-ships) ; fan fiction (smut, fluff, alternative universes, and tropes); creating GIFS and fanvids.
The frequency and relish with which ‘historical’ television shows (primarily made by men, for men) fetishistically represent women being brutalised, tortured, and raped by men is disturbing. The ease with which people defend these representations as ‘historically accurate’ is equally disturbing *yeah, I’m looking at you, Game of Thrones*. ‘Historically accurate’ has become a get-out-of-jail-free card. It’s become a way of shutting down legitimate criticisms of a visual culture obsessed with seeing women degraded. It’s become a way to stifle a necessary discussion about why our culture sees this as unproblematic entertainment.
If these shows are so committed to ‘historical accuracy,’ then why are their women characters’ legs and underarms waxed into oblivion and their faces impeccably made up? Why do the characters all look so manicured and blemishless and clean and glossy? Please. Unless the GoT universe has a Brazilian Butterfly salon hidden down some secret alleyway, these elements are incongruous. So, really, it’s ‘historically accurate when it suits us.’ I’m not saying that we should ignore or censor this aspect of representing history, nor am I saying that there aren’t other aspects of the show that are interesting, challenging, or enjoyable; rather, I think we should be calling out the status quo fetishised representations of women as inevitable victims, the lazy and casual use of rape as a plot device, and how this feeds into misogynistic cultural discourses.
One of the major problems with the representation of rape in these shows is that it is in service of a male plot point – so the hero can save the day, or have a reason to go to war with the perpetrator, or finally realise how much he cares about the woman etc, etc, etc. Rarely, if ever, do these shows deconstruct or indict the manner in which women’s oppression is maintained through sexual violence. Rarely, if ever, are these shows committed to examining the toxic masculinity that maintains rape culture, and how it impacts upon every moment of women’s lives. It is the carelessness and nonchalance with which these extreme acts of violence against women are represented that disturbs me. Women’s pain should not be a mere plot device for the growth and heroism of the male lead. I can’t believe that this still needs to be said. It is the ‘business as usual’ treatment of it that is so wrong. I mean, I love Outlander more than life itself, but the fact that Claire is in constant danger of rape and sexual violence a thousand times during the first season reads as a shortcut to create narrative tension/suspense/ opportunity for Jamie to heroically rescue her. I think Outlander does a great job in providing an empowered and powerful feminine perspective, but it frustratingly falls back on worn out, clichéd tropes like this too often and I sometimes find this disappointing.
There are shows that do a great job deconstructing and critiquing this violence. For me, The Fall is a brilliant example. Detective Stella Gibson, magnificently played by Gillian Anderson, articulates a powerful critique of rape culture and VAW. In monologues that launch an incisive critique of issues like slut shaming, fetishisation of women’s suffering, and discrimination against sex workers, Gibson gives voice to a perspective that refuses to treat these acts of violence as normal, or defendable.
Orphan Black is another smart show that really delves into important issues like the control exercised by patriarchal institutions over women’s reproduction, and how this control supports women’s oppression. Furthermore, Orphan Black is hopeful because it represents a group of women coming together in order to challenge this power, and to support one another – The Bletchley Circle is another great example of this collective power as well. This alternative narrative of women’s collective agency in the face of oppression is one way that the representation of violence against women can begin to unravel, pushing women’s narratives into new territories.
In this podcast, Jodi McAlister and I talk about fantasy and fantasising as a site for resistance and possibility for women viewers and readers. Some of the ideas we explore include: can fantasy open up a space for transgressive desire and imagining alternatives to the status quo? How do narratives like heterosexual romances, which may initially appear conservative, become the grounds for this kind of imagining? How do texts about girls open up new ways of ‘doing girlhood’? And how can we explore fantasy through a feminist lens, and for a feminist agenda?
Texts we discuss in this podcast include: Reign, The 100, Veronica Mars, The Vampire Diaries, Outlander, Fifty Shades of Grey, Obernewtyn, and Buffy. Tune in and let us know your thoughts!
Declarations of ovary explosion, uterus throbbing, and being ‘PREGNANT, LITERALLY PREGNANT!’ are part and parcel of the online fangirl lexicon. These ecstatic utterances often refer to the enjoyment experienced at the sight of a text’s handsome protagonist in a state of undress, or doing something completely adorable like weeping silently by a campfire about his lost love a la Jamie Fraser of “Outlander”.
These declarations of fangirl feeling are also present in non-heterosexual representations of love, sex and desire, and I’ve noticed this happening particularly in relation to both slash and femslash fictions. Within the imaginary zone, women viewers and readers have crafted a language that allows them to speak with one another about their erotic imaginations, sensuous responses to fantasy, and their sexual desire.
Wherever this energy is directed, whatever object it takes, fangirling is so belittled because it is an often unruly expression of women’s desire, which patriarchal culture regards with contempt. Because patriarchal culture is dedicated towards fulfilling the needs, desires, and agendas of men, women are given far less space to articulate anything that challenges this prioritised language of desire. The unruliness suggested by coupling women’s pleasure with words like explosion, throbbing, pulsating, dancing, smouldering etc., gives this fangirl language a resistant edge that creates an alternative space of articulation. Resisting cultural prohibitions against women expressing desire (because it makes you look like a slut, because it’s not feminine, because it speaks of a desire that patriarchal culture does not approve of/want to fulfil and so on), this online communication seems to be looking for ways to push against or exceed the bounds of acceptability. I think this is why the language is so gleefully excessive, aggressive, playful, exuberant, and celebratory. It provides an oppositional counter to the idealised feminine sexuality that is demure, compliant, accommodating, and secondary to male desire. It puts women’s desire and a female gaze front and centre, without shame, and allows us to express things that ordinarily go unsaid.
In this podcast, romance scholar Jodi McAlister and I discuss fangirling as political practice, feminism, and women’s pleasure on “Outlander.” Topics include: women’s spectatorship and fan practices; the representation of sex, desire, and love; sexual politics and violence; patriarchal visual culture; representations of the wounded male body; why Jamie Fraser is the ultimate TV boyfriend. Have a listen and let us know your thoughts!
Fangirling, for the uninitiated, is a practice of fervently loving something, usually a text like screen media, music, an aspect of celebrity culture, writing and so on. There is a kind of rapturous involvement with the loved text, an envelopment in its pleasures and an unashamed expression of delight in this. A lot of mainstream discussions of fangirling deprecate this experience through a sexist characterisation of girls/women as hysterical, excessive, obsessive, and expressive of ‘abnormal’ desire – think of the disparagement of One Direction fans, or Twilight afficianados, or girls/women expressing desire of any kind, really. In essence, fangirling is really a way girls and women have found to express some measure of desire and pleasure within the public discourse, and to me, this is always a good thing because we need to claim more spaces for this. Within my own experience of fangirling, there is always an enormous amount of enjoyment and delight. But at the same time, this delight is always compromised by aspects of the text that represent women in ways that disturb, offend, and sometimes disgust me. After all, these images are created within patriarchal visual culture, so even ‘well intentioned’ texts will inevitably twist towards sexist clichés, tropes and narratives that rely on the subjugation of the female figure. The fangirl, then, is confronted with a very complicated experience of visual culture and the pleasure she takes in it.
A few weeks ago I fell deeply in love with Ronald D. Moore’s television series Outlander. A kind of historical romance/science fiction hybrid set in the Scottish highlands, the series presents spectators with a lush landscape, a strong and complex heroine, and a variety of hot Scotsmen in kilts (and out of their kilts). In other words, perfection. Jamie Fraser, man of all Outlander fan’s hearts, is first presented to us half-naked and injured, his muscles licked by golden firelight and candlelight. The representation of this wounded, exposed hero is not evidence of the male body being subjected to a sadistic gaze. Instead, I think that it creates a space of openness to a desiring female gaze. Challenging the hardness and impenetrability that usually constitutes representations of hegemonic masculinity, women characters and viewers of Outlander are invited to gaze upon Jamie’s body, and to enjoy it.
I devoured the first eight episodes and eagerly awaited the series return a fortnight ago. And then, a kind of unforgivable thing happened. In episode nine, Jamie pins Claire down on the ground and beats her with a belt as ‘punishment’ for her disobedience. This is not consensual play, and it’s certainly not sexy — it’s straight-up domestic violence. Disturbingly, he excitedly pants in her ear that he is enjoying hurting her. What is a woman viewer supposed to do with this scene, which is obscenely played for laughs, as if this is kind of funny? Do we reject Outlander, for its bullshit portrayal of violence against women? I am a feminist screen theorist, and I know that this retrograde representation of sexual politics is worse than terrible. It’s not excusable (don’t get me started on the ‘but it’s historically accurate’ line of reasoning, because lol no). While Jamie does recognise the grave error of his actions and begs his new wife’s forgiveness, viewers cannot just forget that the beating happened. And yet, I like many others, kept watching. In the next episode, luscious imagery of Jamie tenderly caressing and hungrily going down on Claire nevertheless made me quiver with absolute delight. Furthermore, I was very impressed when Jamie realised the full horror of his actions in episode 11 and began examining his privilege and how it has hurt his wife. This is good, and it’s very important — it demonstrates that the show is willing to reflect on oppressive gendered power relations and call them out in meaningful ways.
Oscillating between my outrage at aspects of this text, and my love of its clever moments that undermine gender expectations, its visual textures and sensuousness, I (and many other women, I suspect) struggle with how to approach this narrative. I don’t really have an answer as to how to approach it – sometimes I think ‘boycott! Death to the patriarchy!’ But other times I think if I do that, I will literally have nothing to watch.
If images of women and the position of women spectators is always compromised within patriarchal visual culture, then perhaps it is the gaps, the moments, where another possibility can be perceived and occupied, if only fleetingly. Is this what fangirling is? Perceiving and occupying those intervals of resistance and potential where things could be otherwise? For me, it seems that this may be so. So, in amongst Outlander’s sometimes-disturbing representation of sexual politics, I think my delight lies in its little pockets that turn those politics on its head. My pleasure is in the moments where an alternative, even oppositional representation of gender relations is offered. This is a complex terrain to navigate as a woman, and as a feminist. Fangirling as a politics of resistance, even micro-resistances, is important because it can push against the boundaries of patriarchal visual culture and bend it towards alternatives. Perhaps it is small, gradual, even imperceptible if we’re not paying attention – could it, or is it, creating change for girl and women spectators?