Abstract
Much like other former US presidents, Donald Trump embodies a culturally privileged form of masculinity, one that is cisgender, heterosexual, white, nondisabled, and wealthy. During his campaign, President Trump mocked a disabled journalist, Serge Kovaleski. Such demonstrations draw boundaries around who qualifies as a “real man,” discrediting those falling outside of the contours of hegemonic masculinity. For a long time, disability and masculinity have been understood to be opposed to one another, with disabled men often not being perceived as “real men.” Disability and Masculinities (Loeser, Crowley, and Pini 2017) and Phallacies (Brian and Trent 2017) make an important contribution to a growing body of literature addressing the complex intersections of disabilities and masculinities. These books demonstrate how disabled masculinities have changed over time, and how place and space have shaped them. Beyond this, some of their chapters also speak to agency and forms of resistance of disabled men who respond to hegemonic constructions of masculinity in various ways; at times contesting, transforming, or taking up those constructions.
The first book, edited by Loeser, Crowley, and Pini (2017), investigates masculinity and disability “as a site of cultural pedagogy” by making space for masculinities “beyond dominant ideologies that normalize a specific masculine body and relegate disabled masculinities the position of abnormal ‘Other’” (p. xvi). In ten chapters, this volume addresses three main themes: corporeality, pedagogy, and “Otherness.” A strength of this volume is its delivery of promising possibilities for future empirical research and, especially, for theorizing the intersections of disabilities and masculinities. The introductory chapter provides a compelling review of relevant theoretical perspectives, while the chapters that follow draw on different empirical data to propose a myriad of theoretical approaches for exploring disabled masculinities. These range from Althusser’s theoretical work on “interpellation” (specifically, “negative interpellation” and “misinterpellation”), used to look at a disabled man in an autobiographical novel and his complex responses to hegemonic masculinity (Chapter 5), to Guattari and Deleuze’s work on affect used to make sense of an autistic man’s experiences negotiating hegemonic masculinity and his own masculine subjectivity while in school (Chapter 2). I was excited to see the many theoretical paths that one can take when exploring this subject. For instance, Leslie G. Roman and Sam Eldridge (Chapter 1) set the book off to a strong start by building the notion of “medicalized colonialism,” and shining light on “state-produced masculinist human rights abuses” (p. 3) that have served to deny human rights and disabling factors. To do this, they use the example of the human rights abuse experienced by people of Shoal Lake 40, a Canadian First Nation community. This attention to how disability, disablement, nation-building, and colonial projects are entangled is essential. As the authors address in their chapter, disability studies scholars would benefit from greater engagement with Global Southern perspectives as well as Global Northern indigenous realities. In the second part of the book, “Corporeality,” two chapters stood out to me. Again, taking an intersectional approach, Riggs and Bartholomaeus (Chapter 3) and Kerry (Chapter 4) turn attention to the experiences of transgender and intersex men’s navigation of the medical system. These chapters productively demonstrate the need to take disability into account when addressing questions of masculinity.
Brian and Trent’s (2017) edited volume also paints a complex picture of disabled masculinities, paying particular attention to time and place. The editors note that the book’s main purpose is “to contemplate what it means to be a man and what it means to have a disability not as identities or subjectivities that are fixed in time and space” (p. 19). This volume successfully brings together a range of essays that use historical sources and methods to examine the complex ways that disabled masculinities have been experienced and constructed temporally and spatially. A strength of this volume is how each essay reveals methodological possibilities for examining the disability/masculinity intersection. The range of historical material, which included, for example, films, memoirs, and begging cards, highlights the various innovative ways that disabled masculinities can be examined. Uncovering disability history, as Brian (2017) articulates, requires thinking “creatively, expansively, and beyond the ‘official’ archive” (p. 238). Disability history provides a rich narrative, making previously invisible social actors visible.
This book is divided in four parts. The first section tackles the question of normalcy, as disability illuminates historical structural inequalities. For instance, Kinder’s findings (Chapter 5) relate to how representations of disabled veterans have been used in advertising, illustrating how understandings of disability and masculinity have changed over time. Most fascinating to me was learning about how disabled men have actively and creatively used available resources to respond to hegemonic constructions of masculinities. Chapter 9 by Bogdan, for instance, examines depictions of disabled men on over 100 begging cards (cards with photographs and text that were distributed to by passers or via mail to solicit supports) to demonstrate how disabled men strategically negotiate their self-presentations. These men sometimes relied on disability stereotypes while at others they drew on disparate discourses (e.g., “no fault of their own” and “religion”) to increase their chances of raising funds. In other chapters, authors also raise questions as to how disabled men sometimes draw on hegemonic gender ideologies, especially when it comes to asserting their sexual prowess and masculinity. Linker and Laemmli (Chapter 6), for example, examine the film, The Men, along with “medical, personal, and popular accounts of impotence in paralyzed World War II veterans” (p. 126) demonstrating how paraplegic veterans sexualized women to reassert their sexuality.
My only critique is that, in both of these volumes (although with exceptions), more attention is paid to the experiences of men with visible and physical impairments. I would have liked to have seen more diversity, as in the experiences of men with other forms of impairments. For example, less research has focused on the historical constructions and experiences of men labeled with intellectual disabilities. Thus, we still know little about how this unique social group makes senses of what it means to be a “man.” In the same way that we now acknowledge masculinities, it is important to consider disabilities. In short, a more intersectional lens may further illuminate other nuances in the lived experiences of disabled men. Also, as noted by the editors of both volumes, more research is needed that addresses disabled masculinities in non-Western and colonial contexts. Together, these works suggest fertile ground for further theorizing and empirical exploration.
I applaud the effort in both of these edited books to move disability theory and history in new directions, shining light on some of the complex experiences of people at the nexus of manhood and disability. In some ways, the books complement each other: both touch on current events, from the Syrian refugee crisis to inequalities experienced by First Nations in Canada and Primer Minister Trudeau’s promises, to the implications of Trump’s administration in terms of privileging hegemonic forms of masculinities. In light of this, readers will find these books to be relevant for unpacking recent world events and further imagining ways to make sense of the intersections of masculinities and disabilities. Considering the cross-disciplinary nature of these volumes, they should speak to scholars across a range of fields, including men and masculinities studies, disability studies, sociology, gender and sexualities studies, and beyond.