Feminine identities in Ann Oakley’s novels: A gender challenge or a cultural shock?

Introduction

The advance in gender equality has overwhelmed so many national and state institutions and cultural norms that sometimes the demands and objectives of the second wave of feminism seem not only to have been completed but to have overshadowed other significant changes that humanity/society has gone through. Though the problem of gender balance in all spheres of life has almost been solved and no one dare doubt its importance, ‘science continues to support female inclusion in the labour force and gender diversification at all levels’ (Kassay, 2018).

In the twenty-first century, gender is no longer a descriptor of sexual orientation. Gender, unlike sex, has become a sociocultural category. It is not what a person is born with. Thus, each component of the traditional dyad ‘masculine–feminine’ may be split into pluralities. Femininities and masculinities are conventional and culturally dependent; their traits are consciously acquired or revised by every individual. They are realized in human social practices and are valued respectively.

Female roles in many societies are still determined by male attitudes towards women’s gender roles. In such societies, traditional gender roles are transmitted across generations (primarily by older members of the community who are considered to be moral authorities, or representatives of preceding generations with the same gender prescriptions). These attitudes are formed and changed over time. So, in the family and in the wider community, both men and women participate in the process of reforming and updating gender roles. But gender roles vary depending on the race, ethnicity, nation or country, which are all ‘responsible’ for community development and the current status quo. Despite ‘the universal fact of culturally attributed second-class status of woman in every society’ (Ortner, 1974: 68), in the majority of cases it is in Western countries where feminism and gender dynamics are on show, whereas in Eastern and Southern ones a situation may persist where ‘initiatives to empower women are hampered by women’s lack of education and skills and by low self-esteem resulting from their marginalization by sociocultural taboos’ (Badola and Hussain, 2003: 234).

The spread of gender identification and recognition in the postmodern period has resulted in the subversion of the stereotypes which at one time constituted appropriate feminine and masculine behaviour. The boundaries between traditionally stable sex/gender differences have merged: instead of gender being a synonym for sex, there arises gender as performance. Among the ‘performative genders’ (Butler, 1990), femininity becomes one of the ways of ‘doing gender’ (Butler, 2004). The sphere of its actualization – ‘performance’ – is a feminine discourse in which identity is both constructed and revealed. According to Lemke (2008: 17), ‘postmodern notions of identity embrace multiplicity and hybridity of social identities across both diverse human relationships and social categories such as gender, sexuality, class, culture, race, ethnicity, and so on’. Gender identity acquires multiple interpretations which are traditionally derived from social stereotypes. The functional opposition of ‘autonomy’ and ‘connectedness’ may be supposed to have originated from philosophical extremities, developed into a long-standing theory of the world’s bipolarity. As will be shown in the texts under analysis, this results in literary character identification.

Method

The seeming incompatibility between sex and gender or the absolute denial of gender as a needless synonym belong to history and, more narrowly, the second wave of feminism. The present scholarly agenda requires the categorization of gender issues and that each should reflect a person’s perception and recognition. In Ann Oakley’s novels (The Men’s Room, Matilda’s Mistake and A Proper Holiday), a feminine character with a well-defined gender identity is skilfully constructed.

In order to test the hypothesis that these texts portray a new, postmodern type of feminine identity we have turned to neuroscience theory (Young and Balaban, 2006; Brizendine, 2007). According to this theory, the failure of sex-linked brain differences and the effective involvement in different kinds of activity are key points and can be qualified as bearing male or female qualities. Although ‘most differences in behaviour, are characterized by small average differences and a great deal of male–female overlap at the individual level’ (Young and Balaban, 2006: 634), these variations may be exaggerated in a literary text to such an extent that they may influence the development of the plot.

The present study analyses feminine and masculine attributes reflected in language and which are responsible for the plot’s evolution within the ‘autonomy–connectedness’ dyad as the one that embodies both male and female characteristics. Bekker and Van Assen claim there has been insufficient attention given to gender identity in previous research and they qualify autonomy–connectedness as ‘the need and capacity for self-reliance and independence, as well as for intimacy and functioning satisfactorily in intimate relationships’ (Bekker and Van Assen, 2008). With reference to Oakley’s early sociological insight into the sociocultural meaning of masculinity and femininity (Oakley, 1972), further investigation demonstrates that gender differences stem from both a person’s primary attachment since birth and a subsequent maturation either towards a greater (autonomy) or lesser (connectedness) degree of independence (Bekker, 1993). These two concepts are interrelated and condition one another. If women are ascribed a higher level of connectedness, how can men be opposed to them; how can male/female identities be taken as opposites? Certainly, masculinity relies on autonomy, and vice versa.

Gender differences in the autonomy–connectedness matrix serve to explain the performance of social functions and, arising from that, the complete pattern of male/female behaviour. Differences between men and women do not concern particular individuals but reflect differences between male and female cultures (Maccoby and Jacklin, 1974), cultures that are reflected, for example, through discourse and its variations. See, for example, Fairclough (1995: 23) who claims that ‘discursive practices are socially shaped’. The differences exemplify autonomy and connectedness and are expressed in ways which shape and give meaning to the text. The presentation and perception of stereotypical feminine gender identity tends to result in a character lacking autonomy, bound by connectedness (Belensky et al., 1986; Gilligan, 1982) and looking like a text variant of male dominance relations. Our study follows the position that the depiction of gender identity in a novel ‘may be reconstructed in the course of discursive events’ (Fairclough, 1995: 27–8). Hence, the way a novel is composed and the language that is used highlight both female identity as the object of analysis and more generally a social and cultural phenomenon.

This paper considers the distinct impact of gender identity (predominantly feminine) on Oakley’s novels and seeks to answer the following questions:

The current methodological approach offers a few options in text analysis: qualification of the selected texts as an integral part of Oakley’s written discourse; cultivation of gender identity through language as an element contributing to the development of a novel; identification of gender identity as a core component of a novel’s character.

Ann Oakley’s feminine discourse and characters

Feminine discourse can be traced in contemporary texts marked by gender-neutral biased stylistics. This is mainly due to the processes whereby shifts in social concerns have blurred formerly rigid concepts of femininity and masculinity. The change in gender stereotypes has not passed unnoticed by scholars. See, for example, Gerber (1995), who undertook empirical research to prove that ‘femininity is defined as connectedness or communion and masculinity is defined as self-enhancement or agency’ only as a result of different ‘socialization experiences of men and women’. Empirical research by Eagly et al. (2019: 301) also concluded that ‘gender stereotypes thus convey substantial female advantage in communion and a smaller male advantage in agency but also gender equality in competence along with some female advantage’. Nor has it been ignored by writers who have hurried to depict the deconstruction of binary sex/gender categorization and the appearance of multiple gender performances. This gave rise to numerous gender identities whose images have been picked up and made into novels. Such heterogeneous gender identity characters are portrayed in Oakley’s novels. Being a social activist and a proponent of feminism, she has created a complete gallery of female characters notable for skilfully described traits, realistic behaviour and artistic sophistication. The specificities of such identities functioning in a literary discourse are worth considering in detail.

Feminine identity in a discourse is revealed in various ways. First, the narrator/author highlights ‘femininity’ in a female character; second, a female character herself expresses her ‘feminine’ traits in direct speech; third, characters in fiction identify ‘feminine’ traits as attributed to one of them. The purpose of these elements is to give a picture of female identity with its stereotypical and individual traits as a recognizable phenomenon and a unique artistic construct. The prevailing connectedness used to identify a female character is not equally attributed to the women depicted in the texts. Here, understanding of connectedness may be treated differently: as ‘measured by empathy and desire for intimacy’ (Lang-Takac and Osterweil, 1992: 277); as relations that protect against loneliness and provide a sense of security, paired with perceived partner responsiveness (Reis et al., 2004). In its most general sense connectedness is treated as ‘a positive subjective evaluation of the extent to which one has meaningful, close and constructive relationships with other individuals, groups, or society’ (O’Rourke et al., 2018: 214), which implies the stereotypically approved and welcome feelings of caring about others and the positive emotions of being cared for. It suggests that belonging to a group or community is a protection against loneliness. All of these are grounded historically and linguistically.

The previous century and the current one will undoubtedly go down in history as the period of women’s major involvement in the paid workforce (Powell, 1999) with the result that a new gender identity has emerged on the sociocultural stage of most national and state communities: ‘cultural and discriminatory causal pathways may be less important today than in the past’ (Ceci et al., 2009: 251). The portrayal of professional women has become normal in written discourse, be it a magazine, a scholarly paper, a statistical report or a novel. This trend illustrates the change in female images over the period of about 100 years and is marked by language which reflects the way reality is perceived. Female career advancement has become the focus of both scholarly and literary attention. Whereas the former tries to guess the reasons for and results of such global changes, the latter gives expression to current gender transformations. The burning question that has remained unsolved for many years has been the ability to combine career development and family activities (Eby et al., 2005). Some scholars still stick to the opinion that combining these roles seems too heavy a burden for women to perform well or happily (Duxbury and Higgins, 1991).

It is no secret that during the whole of the twentieth century women were experiencing vital changes to the way they were received in all spheres of life – mainly social, cultural and political but also physiological, biological and mental. Women used to fight for parity and recognition in a male-dominated world, challenging the long outdated belief that men and women were different other than physiologically. Traditional female adherence to connectedness turned into obvious autonomy, independence in decision making and social functioning in general. This has resulted in the appearance of the phrase ‘biological woman’, which strikes nobody as unusual today but could hardly be formed and understood a century ago.

The glamorous television commercials which show women in roles that do not involve important decision-making, either in the home or outside it, and demonstrate their dependence on men (Courtney and Lockeretz, 1971), seeking their protection and attracting their attention by their hypersexualized appearance and manners, has nothing to do with the majority of contemporary women watching these advertisements.

This study of Oakley’s female characters finds that they undermine traditional gender traits attributed to biological women. By deliberately positioning biological females in major roles in novels, the author endows them with symbolic features. On the one hand, their subjectivity and dramatic helplessness identify them as ‘traditional’ women, while on the other hand they exhibit advanced professionalism, enjoy challenging careers, and have complete independence in the choice of marital status. All this can be traced throughout Oakley’s short stories and bestselling novels.

There used to be an assumption that men and women not only differ but tend to be complete opposites when performing the same kind of activity; women may entirely lack the qualities which define men as professionals (Heilman, 2012). They are commonly characterized as weak, affectionate and subordinating, so that professions like nursing, midwifery and social work are almost totally made up of women. In her novels Oakley certainly portrays women who are employed in such posts but only as minor characters. For a female protagonist to play a major role she must have strength, authority, vigour, will-power, persistence and superiority – all stereotypically depicted as male traits. Matilda Cressey in Matilda’s Mistake, for example, is portrayed as: ‘the unreachable archetype: a woman of both the female and male worlds, swanning her way between the two with a rare verve and poise’ (Oakley, 1991a: 37). In other words, Oakley presents her protagonist as a strong woman with a sense of autonomy, thereby destroying the classical arrangement of characters in a novel as well as making progressive observations about gender (Clapp-Itnyre, 2007). Certain characters and their most conspicuous traits are not simply intended to subvert traditional roles and defy stereotypes, but are specifically created as stronger, rounded characters (McCleary and Widdersheim, 2014: 9).

Women had to meet traditional expectations in order to fit the stereotypical gender role in a male-dominated society. The beginning of the twentieth century was a time of developing gender equality originating in the social movements of Europe and the USA and resulting in the appearance of a new type of character in novels. Authors were considered to be feminist writers if they dealt with women’s problems as they developed but Oakley does not form part of this group of authors. She does not describe how a female character fights for women’s rights and interests but describes how, once acquired, a woman uses them.

For instance, a woman is free to express her wishes and demands. A list of a female character’s ‘wants’ from her male partner is described in the novel Matilda’s Mistake:

Matilda knows exactly what she wants William for – sex, humour, a cinema companion and an occasional repair man. As this is still very much the era of AIDS, she also appreciates being able to have reasonable trust in the fact that William won’t give her anything she doesn’t want to have. For his part, William lacks Matilda’s thorough understanding [of] the politics of heterosexuality, but likes her, finds her interesting, imaginative in bed; and, a great plus, at least at the beginning – she seems to be different from all the other women he knows, because she isn’t looking for a husband or for a baby-maker. (Oakley, 1991a: 39–40)

Here, as the closing words of the extract demonstrate, is a new type of female character who differs from one bound by traditional moral values and depicted in literature; the concepts of marriage (a husband) and motherhood (a baby) are completely alien to Matilda but what she requires is clear (sex, humour, a cinema companion and an occasional repair man). Such a statement would have seemed quite provocative half a century ago both in life and in fiction, but it goes hand in hand with the morals of the so called ‘sexual revolution’, feminist philosophy and a postmodernist worldview. Moreover, the shift from female connectedness to autonomy is approved by a male character.

Oakley’s characters destroy the stereotype of beauty and its significance in a woman’s life. A patriarchal woman should be concerned with her appearance. Traditionally, to be attractive means to be beautiful, and primarily this is how men are meant to be attracted by women, but Oakley does not make her female characters beautiful. One example is Dodo Delancey from Proper Holiday:

Dodo lifted her fingers to her own face and felt its curves and lines. It was a full, round face: like a moon, she thought. Her finger found the crater of the chicken-pox scar above her left ear – she’d had it very badly when she was sixteen, just before she and Crispin got together. Thank God, she’d never been very vain. A pleasant, ordinarily nice face was what she’d got and it was good enough for her. She didn’t bother much with make-up, and she wore her hair in a totally unhighlighted Cleopatra bob. (Oakley, 1996: 26)

It is not weird that Dodo is plain and it seems atypical that she does not care, but her reaction reflects changes in ideas about the value of human beauty in the late twentieth century, developed in particular by Kim and Lee (2018). According to them, beauty is one of the few human features (Schwartz and Bilsky, 1990) whose value constantly changes depending on the current sociocultural background.

It is hard to find a strong female character in folklore, and in fairy-tales in particular. In these, girls are pretty and passive. They wait for male rescue and expect to be rewarded for their beauty and subordination. So a contemporary young woman has to make a hard choice: either to cherish a childhood dream of marrying a prince and becoming a princess on condition that she is kind, gentle and submissive, or destroy the stereotype and have a career with the powers no princess could even have dreamt of. Ann Oakley suggests the second variant.

Similarly, female characters in modern fiction reflect the widespread tendency to late marriage in that they consider a family to be a barrier to education, travel and hobbies. Matrimony, childbearing and childcare seriously challenge professional growth and career development. It becomes usual when a woman chooses the second option, for it to be treated anthropologically as less than ‘natural’ in the patriarchal tradition. See, for example, Ortner’s (1974) meditations on ‘natural’ in women and ‘cultural’ in men.

Oakley’s woman is a strong character whose strength is directed against a man, be it a husband, a son, a lover, a colleague or just a passer-by. This strength terrifies the males who seem to have completely lost their former dominant social position due to the mere fact of belonging to the male sex. A fragment from The Men’s Room gives an extended portrayal of such a male character offended by his ex-mistress:

Mark ran. ‘She tried to kill me,’ he repeated to himself. ‘Charity tried to kill me.’ As he said it, he became increasingly impressed by what had happened. He had been made a victim. A crime had been perpetrated against him. Charity had committed a public offence, an inexcusable, even illegal act. What she had just done to him wasn’t allowed. It was against the law. There you are, it was actually against the law for anyone to behave like that! He felt vindicated, triumphant. By running her car on the pavement and trying to kill him, she had made irrelevant all his own actions against her, for whatever he had done, however bad it was, it had at least not been contrary to any law. By becoming a victim, he was ultimately victorious. Her anger put him in the right. (Oakley, 1991b: 144)

Viewed from an ordinary perspective, it is an absurd situation. A man feels triumphant having become a victim, having rejected gender stereotypical personality traits, having refused autonomy. He does not accept that he initiated the offence and that her ‘illegal act’ was the response of a desperate woman. The expressive effect produced by a paradox (‘By becoming a victim, he was ultimately victorious’) represents quite a frequent current portrait of a man. Mark feels comfortable being a victim protected by law. And what about Charity? True, her behaviour was illegal. But she intended to take her revenge in an utterly modern style (‘By running her car on the pavement and trying to kill him’). Overwhelmed with anger and despair, she is conscious of what she is doing but is strong and willing to take a risk. Mark celebrates his victory in a subjective, socially and culturally relevant way (any social norm is a result of social agreement, and is fundamentally subjective), but he was ontologically defeated. Here, the male character is totally opposed to the stereotype of Connell’s (1995) ‘hegemonic masculinity’, which for many centuries has legitimised men’s dominance over women and justified the latter’s subordination.

Despite all the postmodern transformations of consciousness and contemporary approaches to family life and matrimony, a woman in Ann Oakley’s fiction may remain a stereotypical female character devoted to maternity and bound to self-sacrifice as a natural solution of many vital problems, and absolutely absorbed in connectedness. This is how Bilge, a Turkish woman who lost her child, is portrayed:

When Bilge had taken her leave of Manya at last, she had wanted to uncover the whole of her little body and touch and kiss every bit of it. She’d seen this in the wild: in the nosing and petting and worrying of a stillborn lamb by a sheep, even in the desperate rasping of a mother cat’s tongue over the body of a kitten. It was as though enough kissing and moving will bring the body back to life. A mother’s touch could mend limbs, infuse air into sagging lungs, and start thick red blood beating round veins again. A mother’s love and only that! (Oakley, 1996: 200)

Bilge is depicted as close to copying animal behaviour when her child dies. She has similar images in her past experience (‘She’d seen this in the wild’) and is aware of her closeness to nature. Unlike Homo sapiens, she feels the same pain as ‘a sheep’ and ‘a mother cat’ and does not separate herself from them: she is a part of the same world. Conversely, she considers emancipated European tourists ‘spoilt people’ (Oakley, 1996: 197), ‘sick and stupid and selfish’ (1996: 198) who do not deserve their children and are not ‘fit to be parents’ (1996: 198). She believes the reason for such a situation is wrong, since it is only ‘Moslem education that really would equip them [children] to be citizens of the world’ (1996: 197). For Bilge, social connectedness confirms her sense of identity and provides her with a distinct place in society, underlining a ‘universal need to belong’ (Heinrich and Gullone, 2006: 696).

Gender differences identifying the female characters’ behaviour challenge the writer as being more difficult to explain as sex differences. They do not rely solely on biological and stereotypical attitudes but involve multiple components of which social, cultural, national and religious ones are only few.

Conclusion

An investigation of Ann Oakley’s female characters enables us to identify several types. First, there is the female product of the sexual revolution and widespread feminist ideology. She is a character devoid of deep-rooted stereotypes defining a woman’s role in the family and society. Such a woman considers everything relating to her private life to be options of her personal choice. She enjoys her autonomy and is ready to fight for it. This freedom has overwhelmed her so much that anybody who dares to doubt it may provoke her anger up to the desire to kill. She has a strong personality with an unconventional outlook and a well-formed system of values. She is no longer a ‘new woman’ seeking radical change in her social and cultural apprehension. Such a character has already formed herself and is adjusting her principles to the practices of societal intercourse.

The second type is represented by a character who is more concerned with her inner world, her feelings and emotions than with her appearance. Public opinion does not influence how she interprets the reflection she sees in the mirror: she is satisfied with the body and face that nature has given her. Her independence is simply a matter of her mind. She does not exert her autonomy in domestic and public spheres by intensive activism but has inherited it from social movements which were popular and welcoming when she was young.

The last is a ‘traditional’, stereotypical woman for whom maternity and parental duties are above any personal freedom or social activity. She is bound to connectedness and finds nothing wrong with it. It may be noteworthy that this female character represents oriental as opposed to European culture in which a frivolous interpretation of morals can lead to problems, including tragedies.