Are sci-fi and fantasy fans more likely to be feminist?

Are sci-fi and fantasy fans more likely to be feminist?  I really don't know, but I've been wondering about it lately, and I'm thinking the answer miiight be yes, based solely on anecdotal experience and the themes that showed up in the books I read as a kid.  If anyone knows of any actual, real, hard core data on this, I'd love to know!  But... it's a topic worth thinking about, overlap and interplay between sff and feminism, because some books.movies/games in the sff genres are extremely supporting of feminism, but others really... are not, and lack female characters or at least female characters that are developed in the same way as men and have roles beyond sex object and mother.  Plus, fan culture revolving around certain extremely popular sff franchises can be actively hostile towards women-- so those fans certainly aren't getting any sort of feminism boost.

But my big thought right here is that girls who grow up reading sci fi and fantasy?  i think they're more likely to turn into feminist women than girls who don't.  And this is in large part because, even though it is very easy to find books with extremely harsh male characters and no real female characters of substance, it's also quite easy to find books that are gender neutral or that are directed at girls.  I got to thinking about this for a couple of reasons-- 1. I just read Octavia Butler's oeuvre-- she was a black feminist woman writing sci fi in the 70s and under her own name, 2. I found out about James Tiptree Jr., a popular Scfi author who wrote under an assumed name but who has since been honored with an award for female scifi authors in her name, and 3. a lot of chatter on feminist blogs in the past year or so discussing The Ten Thousand Kingdoms, the third book of which I am STILL trying to get around to reading.

In thinking about some of the formative sci fi and fantasy books of my youth, there are a lot that have female warriors or female characters with power-- The His Dark Materials trilogy, Patricia C. Wrede's The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Tamora Pierce's Song of the Lioness Quartet, Anne McCaffrey's Pern and Rowan books, and things by William Sleator.  While romance is often a factor in these books, it isn't usually the main focus-- instead, general character development and struggles on a kingdom or world level tend to take place.  Granted, a lot of modern fantasy and sci fi aimed at young adults are just romance novels in different wrapping (and I have to admit, The Vampire Diaries started when people my age were young, and I read them when I was a tween too), but I think that people my age who grew up reading some of these books sort of developed the idea that women are individuals in the same way that men are individuals, rather than just a simple stereotype.

But like I mentioned above, it's really easy to avoid the feministy stuff, especially if a reader doesn't want to follow a female protagonist (and traditionally, surveys have shown that girls are more likely to read stories about boys than boys are to read stories about girls), and a lot of men who grew up on the more male dominated sides of sci fi and fantasy have turned out to expect women to fall into only a few categories and get bitter when women don't follow a certain script of acquiescence.  So I honestly have no clue how things fall out, but I'd love to hear other folks' takes on this.

Valenti's The Purity Myth

A while ago I read Jessica Valenti's book The Purity Myth.  It's a good book!  It's really informative about some societal trends in hating on women's sexuality, which is even more relevant today than it was when it was published, given all the recent attacks on women's reproductive rights.  Buuuut, it has some major flaws.  One of the things it addresses is defining what sex actually is, which is an important thing to talk about since sex is so different for so many people-- most people thing penis-in-vagina is sex, period, but when both partners have penises or both partners have vaginas, or they aren't interested in penetrative sex of any kind, but they're still having sexual experiences together, and possibly even getting more sexual or exploring more kinks that straight up penis in vagina, you've got to think that more things that penis in vagina should count as sex.  So, like many other authors do in many other works, Valenti discusses definitions for sex.

From The Purity Myth, page 20-21, on what sex is: "My closest friend, Kate, a lesbian, has the best answer to date (a rule I've followed since she shared it with me): It isn't sex unless you've had an orgasm.  That's a pleasure-based, non-heteronormative was of marking intimacy if I've ever heard one.  Of course, this way of defining sex isn't likely to be popular among the straight-male sex, given that some would probably end up not counting for many of their partners.
But any way you cut it, virginity is just to subjective to pretend we can define it."

I totally agree that virginity is too subjective to just easily define (because otherwise, there are a gay men and lesbians who've had multiple partners, but who are still virgins), but I still think that defining it by orgasms is problematic and kind of insulting.  It's still framing things through a normative view, in which sex is about the finish rather than the overall experience, and it's framing it in a way that shuts out a lot of women who really like sex but who can't come from penetrative, or oral, or who are still trying to do social programming that makes them too tense to come when they have another person in the room.  These are real issues that you run into if you spend time on blogs or boards where women talk about sex, and framing things from an orgasmic point of view shuts out a very large swath of women who either don't value orgasms that much, or who don't experience them, but who still consider themselves to be having sex.  It ties into what I see as one of the larger problems of sex positivity-- that a lot of sex positive people end up being negative about those who aren't interested in sex, or kink, or multiple partners, possibly because a rejection of those things can feel like negative judgement.  But really, if you're sex positive, you should focus on other people getting joy out of sex, and having sex in the way they like-- whether it's a poly lifestyle with bdsm tones, or someone who waits for a monogamous marriage to do things beyond kiss.  As long as they're being true to themselves, and have thought about the issues and aren't trying to force anyone else into their lifestyle, neither is better than the other.  And for a lot of people, that idea that neither is better than the other also holds true for orgasms during sex.

Full Frontal Feminism

I'm currently wondering what the ideal way to introduce a young woman to feminism is.

The first book of my quest to read a bunch of feminist texts was Jessica Valenti's Full Frontal Feminism.  Ostensibly, it's an intro guide to a feminism for young women-- highschool aged is my guess.  I wouldn't give it to a girl that age, though-- especially if she isn't already inclined towards feminism.  There is a lot of worthwhile information in the book, but I'm not a fan of the way it's framed-- a ton of swearing, and jabs at Republicans and religion.  I'm certainly not opposed to swearing-- I um, swear rather a lot-- but in something like this, an at least mildly academic introduction to a serious and important topic, it doesn't hurt to sound a little more serious.  It's serious stuff!  And, contrary to what some people might think about accessibility, if you're a young, confused, slightly uptight young woman, a bunch of swearing isn't terribly likely to speak to you.  It sure wouldn't have got through to me or my friends back in highschool.

And speaking of getting through to people?  I'm glad that Valenti noted that Republicans and conservatives aren't automatically bad people-- sure, some are, but a lot are just people with very different viewpoints who are also trying to do what they think is right.  Still-- she makes a lot of jabs at Republicans and religion, and i can't imagine that sitting too well with someone who was raised by religious or Republican parents that they love.  Though JD is liberal like me, when we met he was registered as a Republican, and one of our close friends here in Boston is also a Republican-- and you know what?  They're both genuinely good people who I (fairly clearly) respect!  Talking about the politics of the Republican party is one thing-- but the generalities there are my idea of wrong.

i also got annoyed at a little bit of hypocrisy there.  As I've said before, i don't think that being a feminist means you don't get to wear make up, enjoy all sorts of sex or enjoy not having sex, love your shoe collection-- or change you name when you get married.   Feminism doesn't demand that every choice and action we make be determined solely by our politics.  Valenti totally agrees on the makeup front-- after all, she wears it too!-- but she argues against changing your name at marriage.  I get that makeup and names are different thing, but I still think it's a bit hypocritical to say one is aok and the other is not.

All this said-- I'm a huge fan of her blogging, and her blog.  It's just that I'd rather direct them to Feministing than to Full Frontal Feminism.  Feministing isn't an intro though-- so what IS a good intro?

How much does text play into your life?

I'm very much a feminist, but I haven't read a lot of feminist writing.  In fact, I've read almost none-- and most of what I have read is fiction, rather than theory.  One of the things I'm planning to do in the next couple weeks, in addition to job searching and wedding planning, neither of which are exactly my idea of fun, is to go read some of the actual text that's been published on feminism and gender studies.  Here at home I have the new translation of The Second Sex, a copy of The Feminine Mystique, and a very short book by Andrea Dworkin (which, based on the quotes of hers that I've read before, is probably all I can take of her in one dose).  I've got a couple of Jessica Valenti's books on order from the library, as well as Butler's Gender Troubles.  To even things out a bit, I'm even thinking of getting some books on gender studies from a male point of view-- Lionel Tiger style, or Warren Farrel, or someone else who I'm highly likely to disagree with-- but as with Twilight, I'll do them the justice of  reading their material so I can back my distaste up.   I think it's a pretty good starting base, but I'm very open to other suggestions as well.

One of the things I'm wondering is how much reading most people do on things they strongly believe in-- whether it's feminism, or religion, or a lifestyle path-- and how much of our decisions and opinions we come to on our own.  For me, my mindset is mostly a product of experience and observation, with some internet reading thrown in once I hit college.  In high school, I was a feminist, though I didn't really know what the term meant, and I certainly didn't realize that there were people out there who might disagree with me.  My parents were super egalitarian in the way they raised my brother and I, and I was always the smartest kid around.  I didn't watch TV, and I played super heroes with my guy neighbors, and went to ballet lessons. It wasn't until I got older and started paying more attention to the rest of the world that it hit me that something was off.

It started in highschool I guess-- but there, it started with religion, not feminism.  One of the ministers at my church had been caught in an affair with a married member of the congregation when I was in 8th grade.  I refused to attend church-- suddenly the authority I'd placed in ministers and religion had been smashed.  I read the entire Bible from start to finish my freshman year of highschool and concluded that I was totally cool with God and Jesus, even if humans sometimes messed up in pretty awful ways.

My embrace of feminism didn't start until sometime in college though, because I still was naive and insulated somewhat from sexism as sexism-- but I discovered it in college.  I still hadn't read anything at all that could be classed as feminist discourse, though-- I had to formulate my thoughts on my own, and came to decisions that, for the most part, I still hold to.  When I joined a sorority, when one of my roommates became a sugar baby, when I went to frat parties-- I hadn't read any of the things out there that talked about the implications of any of it.  And as a result, I made the decisions that made me-- and though my sorority may not have labelled itself as feminist, it was the first truly feminist group I ever became a part of.

I came to feminism and to identifying as a feminist, even with the negative stigma from the unrealistic stereotype, without ever reading any major feminist texts.  I came to feminism without even reading any of the major online blogs!  And yet, my take on feminism seems to be fairly consistent with the modern view-- that agency, autonomy, and choice in lifestyle and actions matter, that equality is what is important, and that women-- our bodies, our health, our decisions, our opinions-- are not disposable.  And yet, I still feel like I ought to read older texts, and any new ones that have prominence, whether I'll agree with them or not-- because I feel like I ought to know where feminism came from, and what ideological changes have occurred along the way.  It's funny, because I've never really been tempted to read any theological books-- I'm fully satisfied with my take on Christianity being based on my understanding of the Bible and discussions with ministers-- but for feminism, I want to read the ideological texts.  I want to know what other people are saying, what they think, and why they think it.

The Handmaid's Tale: The Fragility of Equality

This is a guest post by JD, my fiance.  He graduated law school in May, and like me, is currently looking for work.  He has previously written a published legal article, and is a part author of a chapter of one of the authoritative texts on federal civil procedure. .  He is one of the most insightful and wonderful people I know.

I picked up a new novel last night with the idea of reading for an hour or so before bed. At around 4am, I finally put down The Handmaids Tale by Margaret Atwood after absorbing its startling epilogue. Atwood spins her dystopian fiction as a disjointed narrative that approaches stream of consciousness, a style that seems to mirror the mind of the novel’s protagonist. Attempting to summarize the plot would not do the book justice, but suffice to say I couldn’t put it down and it gripped me with an odd emotion I don’t normally get when reading: fear.

Fear isn’t actually a response I encounter often when reading dystopian literature. Classics such as 1984 I took in as warnings, with the knowledge that their goal was to teach us to be on our guard, to teach us that being aware of the possibility of such a future was a step in combating it. But 1984 didn’t leave me with a feeling of immediacy, a feeling that such a future could easily come to pass. Though it dealt with sex somewhat, and was partly about the freedom to love, 1984 did not have as its focus a theocratic dystopia based around the subjugation of women. Such a world is the focus of The Handmaids Tale.

Why does that particular structure frighten me more than the dystopia imagined by other authors? Why should I be any more disturbed by that than by Orwell’s emotionally repressed world? The answer is that it hits too close to home. At one point in the novel, the protagonist asks her “Commander”—one of the male leaders of the new theocracy—the all important question: why? His answer is multi-faceted, but mainly is concerned with giving men something to live for again. The rise of feminism and the status of women as equals removed men from their role as protectors, usurped their former place in the world. Rather than combat that emptiness with a new goal, they sought to return to the former status quo. There is no adaptation here, but rather true conservatism on the part of the men; a refusal to adapt to changes in the world and in society. Part of the “Commander’s” defense is that they were merely returning to the way it always had been, that feminism was the anomaly and merely a blink in the course of history.

Those words fill me with fear because in a way they are true. The equality of women is a recent accomplishment, and in a non-legal sense there are still many battles to be fought. The 19^th amendment, granting women’s suffrage in the U.S., was not ratified until 1920—less than 100 years ago. What women have fought so hard for is truly a recent attainment, and parallels the civil rights movement in that regard. The Handmaid’s Tale is frightening because it contemplates a step back and an unraveling of all that has been achieved and that has helped make women more than brood mares and domestic slaves.

               

Even more frightening is that there are those out there who still argue that women belong in a situation like that portrayed in The Handmaids Tale: they are lesser, they exist only for breeding, they shouldn’t be educated. The source of those views is irrelevant, they could be biblically justified, as those in The Handmaid’s Tale were, or they could be the result of individual hatred and stem from individuals who went through bad divorces or have grown to hate all women because of some unfortunate personal experience. Regardless of their origin, people who would embrace the world of The Handmaid’s Tale exist.  They exist, and they must be fought. The battle is not over, and The Handmaid’s Tale shows us a world that might be if those who still believe that women should not have the same rights as men succeed.  In that way it is more than a parable and is to some extent, a call to arms. We cannot take for granted the equality of the sexes; we must remember the struggle it took to get here, and we must continue that struggle against everyone who would try to take that equality away. Regardless of who uttered these words originally, they remain true: the price of freedom is eternal vigilance.