Posts Tagged With: Feminism

Book Reviews: A Georgette Heyer Obsession

I recently found Georgette Heyer. Really it was the Huntington’s fault. I found a book about the “real” history of Regency England ala Georgette Heyer in their museum shop (also known for really good tea and fun, quirky prints). I loved it. And then I read a self-pub that I liked that claimed to be for fans of Georgette Heyer. So there you are. I tried her out.  I’ve read five.

Kobo called me obsessed. They gave me a badge for it and everything. It’s official.

Here’s the thing, though. These novels are something I’m sure I shouldn’t like. We can chalk it up to the different time, and different mores (written in the ‘60s, about the early 1800s). We can chalk it up to whatever you’d like. But the reality is that the way women are treated in the books often makes me uncomfortable. I do not care how much a woman secretly likes it. If she says no, a good man should respect that. Protagonist men should not side with other men who molest girls (claiming they were flirty and deserved it), and work to save their livelihoods. This goes for all time periods. There is nothing to defend here. It’s not okay, especially from a female author.

But I do like the books, even though I shouldn’t. The characters are rich and the storylines interesting. There is the usual delight of tea, gloves, carriages, dresses, manor houses in the countryside, and balls (some of them masked). There is so much to love that it seems stupid to throw the whole thing out on the basis of a few uncomfortable moments. They’re hardly the crux of the novels. It was a different time, right? Before the Feminine Mystique in a time dominated by men?

I’m torn.

So for now, I’m reading them. I’m letting myself be angry and recognize that the books are spreading the wrong message about love and relationships. I’m also letting myself enjoy the antics, the luxury, and the characters. It’s too bad there aren’t any easy answers here. I want to like Georgette Heyer’s books with all my heart. I’m just not sure that wanting to like them is actually liking.  For now, it’s enough.

Heyer - Full

Okay, now for the actual reviews:

The Grand Sophy: This is the best book of GH’s that I’ve read so far. Sophy is delightful, uncouth, and smart – especially when fighting with her cousin Charles. The book also doesn’t have any of those moments that I felt apprehensive about. In fact, Sophy is so well able to take care of herself that it is fun to watch her scandalize the Ton while still maintaining the love of society in general. The way she overturns everything in her Aunt’s house for the better is amusing to watch, as well. In fact, I loved this book so much that I’ve been looking for the same thing in Heyer’s other novels and almost finding it (but not quite). I’m still hoping I’ll find it again, though. She’s got scores of others.

The Masqueraders: I felt like Prudence and Robin (who were masquerading) didn’t have that great a reason to do so. You know, besides the fact that their father told them to and they follow commands. It’s not even really explained in the end by their father, not to my satisfaction. But I really loved watching Prudence navigate the man’s world of Regency England, from getting into duels to visiting White’s club. Bonus points for masked ball, too. It’s a complicated story, well woven, and mostly a delight. If you don’t count Sir Anthony’s assertion that Prudence will marry him if he has to carry her off to make it happen.

A Convenient Marriage: Another refreshing heroine who is not a beauty and a little stupid, but still the toast of the town. Because Horry and Rule’s marriage is for convenience only, Heyer exploits their lack of trust in each other for a complicated plot that is well done. This one features a full-on abduction, though, and near rape. It’s bad. Also, the last chunk of the novel is full of the Main Character’s silly brothers who are silly. Droll and amusing has its limits. That being said, I enjoyed it enough to read two other Heyer novels. Her character are SO GOOD.

The Corinthian: The folks on Goodreads consider this her best book yet, but I can’t quite agree. The plot does evolve into this nice farce of silliness that I love a lot, and it was fun to see the “lower” echelons of Regency society, and how the main character dandy navigated them. I especially loved the funny and antagonistic relationship between Richard and Pen, Richard’s deep concern with cravats, and Pen’s obsession with apples. A gal after my own heart. Richard is a little rough with Pen at times, but over all this one is more comfortable than some of Heyer’s others.

The Quiet Gentleman: Unwanted advances are blamed on a flirtatious girl. I think someone even says “well, she should learn…” So, yeah. But I liked Frant and his motley collection of relatives, and I liked that it was sort of a mystery novel with shootings and secret passages. I loved Drusilla so much. She is smart, full of excellent advice, much sense, and saves the day more than once. For Drusilla and the mystery, this book is worth the read. Just overlook the fact that Martin’s story eventually makes him out to be a non-villain, okay?

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On Feminism


Brian and I have been talking a lot about feminism lately.  I have recently become comfortable calling myself a feminist in public.  I feel like I finally understand why it’s important that people do label themselves feminists, and work for women’s right to do anything they want to.  I’m glad I feel that way, but I also feel like feminism has failed me.  In a big way.

I’ll just admit it.  I hate myself most of the time.  I cringe every time I pick that size twelve off the rack, or take a bite of that poppy seed muffin, or notice the hair growing between my eyebrows.  My teeth are not straight.  My face is square and funny.  I have a cabbage patch nose.  My torso is long and my legs are short.  I am in no way able to conform to the magazine ideal.  Even if I could become a size 1, I would still not look like I am “supposed to.”  All women are beautiful in a way of course, but those of us labeled as cute, or unique, understand what that means.  It’s the nice way to say “doesn’t measure up.”  I hate myself for hating myself, too.  It’s a vicious cycle.

I told my mother once that I think of women loathing themselves as being an American Cultural trait.  I have never met another woman who didn’t also have these feelings.  From lamenting about pre-child bodies, to Spanx, to spray tan, to diets, we are all trying to be something we can’t.  All of us.  Some of us just hide it better than others.

Feminism has given me the knowledge that this is a socially constructed, impossible ideal.  I’m not crazy, society is.  That’s nice, of course, but it hasn’t helped me at all.  I still loathe myself for the handful of Nerds I ate yesterday, the crepe I had Saturday morning for breakfast.  I still wish I was a size 4.  I still pull on Spanx beneath my dress.  Feminism has not given me anything except the knowledge that I am unable separate myself from the cultural messages surrounding me.  I feel trapped.  I don’t know how to move forward from here.  Can thirty years of self-loathing even be turned into something empowering?  Is it even possible to get out?  Is my inability to stop caring something new I should be hating myself for?

Brian thinks the reason I don’t know how to move forward is that there is no roadmap on how to move forward.  Women’s stories aren’t told unless they are the careful version everyone expects, the unrealistic version.  I know this is where my fascination with Amanda Palmer lies.  She is living something else.  Whether that version of something else works for me or not it is amazing to see what is possible, and that at least one person can do it.  It gives me just a tiny smidgeon of hope.

I don’t have any answers.  I don’t think there are any answers to this.  I think we should be kinder to each other and not tell other women they can’t or that something they choose willingly and knowingly is unfeminist.  I think we can all spend a little time figuring out if we do something because society tells us to or if we really like it.  But at the end of the day, will that help me feel OK about my short, bitten fingernails or the stubble on my legs?  I don’t really expect that it will.

Categories: Life | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

Things I Learned This Week:

Canadian border patrol agents are friendly, funny and make you excited to go into the country.  American border patrol agents do not.

Foreign countries are foreign, even when they look and feel the same at first.    

They don’t stamp your passport when you go to Canada, they just look at it.

Brian and I need to move east.  Maybe.  If we can handle the weather. Maybe. 

Cousins who used to be just kids grow up to be some pretty amazing people.  It’s pretty great when you realize you’d voluntarily be friends even without the family connection.     

I’m maybe more of a feminist than I thought, and I might be ready to declare it to the world.

There is no one I’d rather be trapped with on the never ending layover from hell than Brian and his scruffy face.

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Mildred Pierce

Mildred Pierce is a movie about a middle class mother who decides to leave her husband with tragic results.  Although she makes a fortune in the restaurant business, Mildred loses both of her children, one to pneumonia and the other to snobbery.  In addition to the troubles with her children, she renounces her middle class husband for an upper class husband who ends up betraying her in the end.  This film noir portrayal of a middle class woman’s life came out in 1945.  The way race, class, and gender are portrayed in the film clearly show the attitudes prevalent about women throughout the 1940s.

Race in Mildred Pierce is mostly conspicuous by its absence.  The only non-white in the movie is Mildred’s African-American housekeeper.  This housekeeper has a high, childish voice and is always bumbling around in silly ways and making mistakes.  An example of this is when she tries to announce Mildred’s husband Bert, but forgets that she needs to announce people until the last minute, and then performs the announcement too loud.  When Mildred corrects her, she acts confused.  The fact that the only non-white person in the movie is portrayed as childish and silly is indicative of white ideas about African-American women during the 1940’s.  Just like in the movie, African American women were largely left out of women’s issues during the war.  As more men went overseas to fight in World War II, women were encouraged to take their jobs, “for the duration.”  Although white women were able to take advantage of these new opportunities, African American women were the last to be hired and the first to be fired.  African American women were not even allowed in women’s military groups such as the WAC until the war was nearly over.  Aside from Mildred’s housekeeper, everyone else in the movie is white, from the customers at Mildred’s restaurant to the police officers at the station.

Class is another issue that is explored in the film.  In stark contrast to earlier ages, where the upper classes were revered completely, the upper class people in Mildred Pierce are unenviable.  Monty Beregon, Mildred’s second husband, is an upper class playboy who loafs around on Mildred’s dime, steals her company out from under her, and finally cheats on her with her own daughter.  Mildred’s daughter Veda wants desperately to belong to the upper classes, berating her mother, blackmailing, and stealing money to afford the things her middle class life will not allow her to.  When Veda secretly gets married, her mother in law comes to Mildred’s house and insults the whole family.  These portrayals of upper class people are terrible.  In stark contrast to that is Mildred’s friend Ida, a smart and snappy woman who runs Mildred’s restaurant business admirably, and also Mildred’s first husband Bert.  Both of these people are middle class, and are there for Mildred throughout the film.  Even Wally, a friend of Bert’s who is constantly making passes at Mildred, won’t take no for an answer, and is often a jerk, helps Mildred to start her business, and offers her much financial support along the way.  In the 1940’s, as the number of middle class people grew along with their purchasing power, middle class became the way to be.  We can clearly see this in the way the middle class is portrayed throughout the film.

The issue of gender in the film is very complex.  In many ways, Mildred breaks the established female norms by divorcing her husband, and leaving the kitchen to become a business woman.  Although Mildred achieves success financially, her home life is completely destroyed.  The moment Mildred leaves her tract house kitchen the family starts to have problems.  In fact, the loss of Mildred’s youngest daughter and the betrayal of her oldest daughter can both be attributed to the fact that Mildred is not at home supervising her children.  Kay, Mildred’s youngest child, dies of pneumonia after Mildred has failed to notice that her cough is not getting better.  Mildred is not even informed of Kay’s sickness because she is out gallivanting around with her boyfriend Monte, and she arrives only in time to watch her daughter succumb to the disease.  Veda’s affair with Mildred’s husband Monte can also be seen as a consequence of Mildred’s working ways.  If Mildred had stayed at home and supervised things like a proper 1940’s housewife should, Veda and Monte would not have had the opportunity to behave so horribly, the film seems to imply.  In the 1940’s, literature was everywhere telling women how important it was for the welfare of their children for them to stay home.  The prevailing attitude of this time is reflected completely in the fate of Mildred once she chooses to leave the home.

Mildred Pierce is an interesting film about a mother who becomes a successful business woman.  The things it tells us about class, race, and gender give a clear picture of the attitudes and opinions of the time in which the movie came out.  The 1940’s were a time in the history of America where women were moving back to the home and middle class values became the measuring point for society.  We can see this measuring through the film, and see how it has shaped our values and opinions today.

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The Feminine Mystique Review

Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique chronicles a disturbing trend among women of the fifties and sixties, flocking to the home at the expense of everything else.  Friedan argues that every aspect of male-dominated American society is set up to brainwash women into believing that their only worth is in being a wife and mother; causing depression, listlessness, and sexual issues.  Women become victims of what she calls “the problem that has no name.” Friedan lays out a case for a complex web of oppression running throughout early 1960s’ society, involving publishers, Freud, Kinsey, Margaret Mead, college curriculums, and women themselves. Unfortunately, Friedan’s book is not without its faults.  Overly dramatic at times and relying heavily on statistics that are questionable at best, The Feminine Mystique has become an easy target for many who oppose the feminist movement. Nevertheless, the book has true value by relaying the firsthand accounts of women’s experiences before the second wave of feminism, for it is in these women’s stories that we can see through the pomp and circumstance of Friedan’s writing to the true reasons behind the feminist movement of the sixties and seventies.

When World War II ended, women flocked back from their wartime jobs and ensconced themselves in the home.  Although there are many reasons for this phenomenon, probably the most likely reasons stem from women’s economic inability to marry through the depression years, and from their long absence from marriage aged men because of the war.  Whatever the causes, birth rates boomed, the United States Gross Domestic Product rose to unprecedented heights, and people everywhere were celebrating their newfound prosperity.  Despite the affluence of Americans, not all women were as happy as they were purported to be.  The Mystique touched every area of women’s lives.  Advertisements extolled domesticity, and Dr. Spock’s baby book asserted that women who worked were harming their children.  Even when women did work outside of the home, they were relegated to “pink collar jobs” such as hairdressing and waitressing.  Wages for these jobs were far below the salaries of traditionally male jobs.  Although traditional gender roles often pigeonholed women into unsatisfying lives, the idea that a wholesale conspiracy existed to keep women down is a hard sell.

Friedan does her best to convince us of this conspiracy, often times reaching too far.  Although Friedan’s overly dramatic language can be seen in nearly every chapter, it is perhaps best seen in the chapter attacking women’s magazines.  Citing articles from such publications as McCalls, Redbook, Life, and Ladies Home Journal, Friedan claims a widespread conspiracy of male editors to include stories pertaining to domestic subjects only.  She compares articles from 1949 to articles from 1939 in order to show how drastically the role of women has changed in “just ten years.”  Many of the girls in the early articles devote themselves to their careers and are rewarded for it.  Individuality and resourcefulness are emphasized.  The later articles all show firsthand, and sometimes humorous accounts of women’s mistaken exploits in the home.  A good example of this is in the story of the Sandwich Maker.  A woman who feels that her weekly allowance is not enough is puzzled about what to do for money:  “At last the solution comes – she will take orders for sandwiches from other men at her husband’s plant.  She earns $52.50 a week, except that she forgets to count costs, and she doesn’t remember what a gross is so she has to hide 8,640 sandwich bags behind the furnace.” (Friedan 94)  In addition to this, quotes from male editors, women editors, and freelance journalists tell how the publishing industry has changed in the last ten years.  These eyewitnesses claim male editors have decreed that women are only interested in things pertaining directly to their home.  Calls for articles about foreign policy or issues bigger than the home-sphere are patronizingly put down by these male editors, as they have numbers to show that issues like these do not sell. One editor claims: “Our readers are housewives, full time.  They’re not interested in the broad public issues of the day.  They are not interested in national or international affairs.  They are only interested in family and the home.” (Friedan 84)

The conspiracy of male editors seeking to dumb down women created by Friedan is almost certainly overstated.   If we look at later chapters in the book, Friedan herself lays out a rebuttal to her conspiracy theory.  In her chapter about women who attend college, Friedan notes the complete disinterest of women in anything that doesn’t relate to the home.  She claims that they know they will be nothing but housewives in the future, and that by studying and enjoying the preparation for a career, they are only setting themselves up to be discontented later.  It therefore becomes a reasonable conclusion that these women do not want to read articles about foreign policy and that magazines with these articles will not sell.  Far from being a conspiracy set up by magazine publishers to keep women in the home, we can see this trend as a symptom of the Mystique rather than a cause. 

Another flaw in Friedan’s reasoning is her inability to see events in historical context, despite her chapter on women in history.  In 1939, with the Great Depression still rearing its ugly head, it seems obvious that a woman would be prized for her resourcefulness.  In a post-war, affluent society, women’s image will necessarily be different.  The world itself had changed completely in these ten years, from a depressed economy where people struggled to feed themselves, to a wartime economy trying to support the troops, to an affluent consumer society.  Women of the Depression, struggling to help their family survive, do not have the same wants or needs as the prosperous American housewife of the 1950s.  Also, women’s role in society has changed just as quickly in ages prior:  women of 1899, living the first Cult of Domesticity, were not the Progressive Era women of 1909. 

In addition to these facts, we can also see that the 1939 stories do not exactly portray an image of unfettered femininity, as Friedan claims.  The women in these stories are still all seeking matrimony, and women who “do the right thing” are often rewarded by gaining the handsome or rich hero as their husband.  As Friedan says of one story, published in the Lady’s Home Journal in 1939, “How can the boss expect her to give up her date!  But she stays on the job… She finds the man, too – The boss!” (Friedan 87).  Friedan’s last claim that she “Went through issue after issue of the three major women’s magazines… without finding a single heroine who had a career, a commitment to any work, art, profession, or mission in the world, other than “Occupation: housewife”.” (Friedan 93) is also false.  Other scholars have been through these magazines as well, and do not find her claim to be at all valid.  Although it is undeniable that these magazines are skewed toward women making their lives as housewives, articles about successful career women appear frequently.   Friedan herself admits to having written articles about a successful artist.  Friedan had to focus the story on the artist’s role as a housewife, but the idea that women could take care of their children and also be something else belies the overarching claim Friedan makes of the Mystique.

Another area in which Friedan has not been careful is in her use of unreliable statistics.   For many of her statistics citing birth rates, Friedan consulted the United Nation’s Demographic Yearbook, which dealt with so many countries that it could not make a careful study of any one of them.  From this source, data pertaining to individual countries cannot be comprehensive, giving us a skewed view of the birthrate.  Studies published by the US government were available to her as well, citing newer and more comprehensive information.  Government data also cited statistics going back through the 1940’s, as opposed to the United Nation data that started in 1950.  With ten more years of information to compare and contrast, and better information available, why would Friedan not have used the US Government statistics? Perhaps because they did not match the point she was trying to make.  The choice of sources is not the only flaw in Friedan’s statistics.  At almost every turn, she irresponsibly manipulates data to fit her claims.

“The women who “adjust” as housewives, who grow up wanting to be “just a housewife” are in as much danger as the millions who walked to their own death in the concentration camps…” (Friedan 423).  By comparing the comfortable yet bland lives of women in the fifties to victims of Nazi concentration camps, Friedan enters territory that is outright offensive.  An actual concentration camp was horrific and demeaning.  People were imprisoned in unsanitary, bug-ridden conditions where they were forced to work at backbreaking tasks for little to no food.  Others were stripped naked, gassed, burned.  Skeletal bodies stacked like cordwood often decorated the landscape.  There was no choice and no optimism in these camps.  As they struggled to survive, these people barely remembered that they were human.  Doubtless, any one of the people imprisoned in these camps would trade places with an affluent American housewife of the sixties in a heartbeat.  They would certainly make this decision even if they had to accept the listlessness and boredom that went with it.  Women in the fifties and sixties embraced these roles willingly, though they did not always understand the full implications of what they were agreeing to.  By comparing their situation to the situation of concentration camp victims, Friedan minimizes the horrific experiences of people in the camps and trivializes the women’s rights movement.  Friedan’s argument is at best in poor taste, and at worst outright enraging, especially when she suggests that concentration camps were terrible “not because [they] were physically killing” (Friedan 424).  Anyone who has even casually studied the Nazi systematic genocide of Jews will tell you that the daily threat of death was one of the most traumatizing parts.

The obvious flaws in the book give way to personal accounts of women living during this time.  This is where the true heart of Friedan’s novel lies and perhaps the reason it has remained a part of the discourse for so long.  These firsthand accounts of women’s experiences smack of a sincerity lacking in the rest of the book.  Depressing stories such as the suburb of 28 women, where

“Sixteen out of the twenty eight were in analysis or analytical psychotherapy.  Eighteen were taking tranquilizers; several had tried suicide; and some had been hospitalized for varying periods, for depression or vaguely diagnosed psychotic states… Of the women who breast fed their babies, one had continued, desperately, until the child was so undernourished that her doctor intervened by force.  Twelve were engaged in extramarital affairs, in act or fantasy.” (Friedan 335).

This shows the problems women faced as no statistics can.  It is in the hopelessness of the young college graduates, the woman in her 40’s trying to have another baby to give her something to do, and the rampant affairs of suburban housewives, that we understand the need for the women’s rights movement of the 1960’s.  Even Friedan’s personal story, as recounted in the prologue and epilogue, are some of the most compelling parts of the book.  These personal accounts showed women that they weren’t alone in their dissatisfaction with their lives, and ultimately touched a generation of women enough to form the second wave of feminism.  These women’s stories almost completely redeem the rest of the novel, certainly classing it as an important historical document, if nothing else.

The inconsistencies and hyperbole that plague Friedan’s book have unfortunately left her vulnerable to anti-feminist attack.  Friedan was not completely who she portrayed herself to be in The Feminine Mystique.  She grew up Betty Goldstein, attended Temple as a child, and eventually grew up to be a communist activist at Sarah Lawrence, where she attended college.  Although she had two children and a husband at the time the book was published, she was “not a particularly cooperative spouse or attentive mother” (NY Times).   Unlike the housewife she purported to be, Friedan worked for a living for most of her life: at a major magazine, and – after she was fired for having her second child – as a freelance writer.  One scholar even claims that the reason she wrote The Feminine Mystique “had more to do with her Marxist hatred for America than with any of her actual experience as a housewife or mother” (U of Penn).  These attacks do not take into account the fact that Friedan was, indeed, a victim of the Mystique.  Friedan may not have been a housewife per se, but she was trapped in an abusive marriage, and fired from her job for the simple reason that she was pregnant.  Another fact these attacks fail to take into account is the generation of women who identified with Friedan’s account of domestic life and rose up to change it.  Not all the women who rallied around the book were Marxists with a hatred for America.  Many were patriotic housewives, as Friedan claimed to be.  Friedan’s political leanings perhaps color some of her claims, but ultimately they make no difference in the ultimate message of the book.  Unfortunately, those seeking to invalidate the feminist movement have been able to latch on to some of Friedan’s more incendiary beliefs and claims to strengthen their own anti-feminist message.

The Feminine Mystique is certainly a worthwhile read.  Although Friedan often relies on dubious methods to prove her point, the reality remains that her book changed the lives of an entire generation of women.  We look back at these times today as the golden era of American history, but the affluent women of these times were not happy.  Pigeonholed into their roles as wives and mothers and told they could not be anything else; the happy image of a woman in a poufy dress who has everything is not an accurate depiction of the woman of these times.  The Feminine Mystique is invaluable for bringing a greater understanding of this to the women of today.  Overly dramatic, plagued by inaccuracies, and at times outright offensive, this book is still worth the read for the firsthand accounts of the hopelessness of women during these times.  Friedan’s book has remained an important part of the American discourse for four decades, and will undoubtedly be read for many decades more.

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Gender and class relations at the turn of the century were complex, yet simple at the same time. Both men and women were expected to fit into narrow spheres of behavior, and there was no admittance that people could fall outside of those established norms. We can see these ideas clearly in The Strange Case of Lizzie Borden, a documentary about the murder trial of Lizzie Borden, and also in the play A Jury of her Peers. By comparing and contrasting these two works, we can see how nineteenth century ideas about gender roles, strict social codes, and empathy with those in one’s social class allow these women to get away with their crimes.

Nineteenth century ideas about gender and what women were capable of greatly affected public opinion of both accused murderesses Lizzie Borden and Minnie Foster. In the play A Jury of her Peers, Minnie Foster was thought to be incapable of being strong enough to strangle her husband, and because of these ideas, the male investigators did not do a very thorough job in examining her house. Although Minnie Foster undoubtedly benefitted from these ideas, Lizzie Borden was able to manipulate these ideas about gender especially well. Lizzie played up on her femininity completely during the trial. She spent most of the trial knitting, fainted away at the sight of her parents’ skulls, and played the upper class lady in all instances. By buying into the established norms of female behavior, Lizzie showed the world that she was also a woman who could not perform such a violent act as an axe murder. Lizzie played up these ideas more than Minnie Foster, but the results for the women were the same. At most it was admitted that a woman might poison a man, but an actual crime where a woman would have to be face to face with her victim was considered impossible for her to execute.

In both cases, we can also see the prevalent idea of manners helping the women to avoid a guilty verdict. At the turn of the century, it was considered extremely wrong, even perverted, for a man to go through a woman’s personal things. This undoubtedly contributed to the halfhearted search that both sets of detectives made of the murder scenes. We know that the detectives in the Lizzie Borden case never searched her bedroom or any of her personal things, and the detectives in the Minnie Foster case did not search her personal things either. There were strong social norms preventing the search of private items, but Minnie Foster’s sewing box would not necessarily been searched anyway. In addition to the taboo about touching a woman’s private possessions, women’s public possessions were considered completely unimportant by men. It would not have dawned on the two investigators to search Minnie Foster’s sewing box, as they would not have attached any importance to the item. We can clearly see how turn of the century manners helped these women to escape conviction.

Class also played a strong role in the acquittal of both Lizzie Borden and Minnie Foster. At the time, those who were upper class were considered incapable of immoral behavior. Add this belief to the belief in the moral superiority of women, and you end up with an even stronger public opinion that these women are innocent. In the idea of class is where we can see the biggest deviation between the stories of Minnie Foster and Lizzie Borden. Lizzie Borden was an upper class woman. When word that she had been accused of murdering her parents spread to the community, many rallied behind her and supported her, especially those at the church that she had been attending. All claimed that a churchgoing woman could not possibly have performed the murders. According to the narrator of the documentary, it was not only because Lizzie was a woman that evidence would have been suppressed. Neighbors were going in and out of the house all day and it would have been a common practice for them to take anything that would have implicated any of the family members, not just the female ones. Often, bad behavior was seen to be the result of bad company or bad upbringing. Neighbors of the Borden family would not have wanted to share in this stigma, so they had a strong reason to hush up any evidence. In the Minnie Foster case, Minnie is not an upper class woman. Although evidence of her crime is suppressed in much the same way as in the Lizzie Borden case, we understand from the play that it is because the women discovering the evidence empathize with her, and not because of class or status. In fact, it is hinted that Minnie is of a lower status than her neighbors. Still, the end result is the same, as vital evidence is suppressed. We know in the Lizzie Borden case that she was acquitted of the charges that she murdered her parents, but we do not know the outcome of the Minnie Foster case. This is perhaps another indication of class as the wealthy woman naturally goes free, but the poorer woman’s fate is not so certain.

In both of these cases, we can clearly see much of the attitudes and ideas of turn of the century America. As the cartoons in Puck Magazine from Through Women’s Eyes show, public opinion of women is that they are delicate and silly. The women in these cartoons are all upper class white women. Although some are sporty and active, unlike previous ages, there is the general impression that they are not serious about their pursuits. All the women are delicately dressed with perfect hair and all are engaged in traditional womanly pursuits. Through these pictures, we can clearly see the overwhelming impression that women are delicate creatures and incapable of seriousness. It is not too hard to jump from these images to the actual women of the time. If women cannot take boating seriously, it is easy to see how society would assume that women would also be incapable of being serious enough for murder.

Through The Strange Case of Lizzie Borden and A Jury of Her Peers, we can see how pigeon-holed people were during the turn of the century. Gender roles were so strict that it was impossible for detectives to take Lizzie Borden or Minnie Foster seriously enough that they would be convicted of murder. The codes of class, established gender roles, and empathy for those in one’s social situation allowed both women to get away with their crimes. Although these codes worked to the women’s advantage in one way, we can also see that it was the social code in the first place that made these women want to get out of the situations they were in. The greater gender equality women of the first wave of feminism fought for was undoubtedly worth it.

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