Virginia Woolf’s work demonstrates how, so often in literature, women are made rivals competing for the attention of the male gaze, thereby legitimising its supremacy. She demonstrates how, in ‘A Room of one’s own’, the relationship between Chloe and Olivia thus signifies some great change, wherein the two are allowed to simply exist together, momentarily undefined by their relation to men- “‘Chloe liked Olivia…’ Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admit in the privacy of our own society that these things sometimes happen, sometimes women do like women.” (Woolf, 1935, p. 123) Therefore, it is clear that the dynamics between women on a romantic scale should similarly undermine this literary tradition, providing a secluded space where rivalry is replaced with tenderness and male validation becomes insignificant to female appreciation for the female.
This is especially true considering the sexual position of women throughout history, consistently taught to regard their sexuality with shame and maintain a standing of perpetual ‘purity’ so not to corrupt their presentation in the eyes of potential husbands. As Dr William Acton presumptuously asserted in 1865, ‘The best mothers, wives, and managers of households, know little or nothing of sexual indulgences. Love of home, children, and domestic duties are the passions they feel.” (Acton, 1875, p.213) Therefore, love between women should undermine institutionalised female subordination, acting as an equaliser by allowing for autonomous female intimacy existing separate to men. Lesbian relationships are thus a secluded space where female sexuality can thrive, untainted by the threat of reproduction: “Between women, love is contemplation…there is neither fight, nor victory, nor defeat; each one is both subject and object, sovereign and slave in exact reciprocity; this duality is complicity” (de Beauvoir, 2010, p. 492).
However, my essay will explore how presentations of lesbianism in literature frequently do not take this opportunity for radical escape, instead reinscribing patriarchal values, complicating and delaying the pursuit of gender equality. The presentation of lesbian relationships in literature and the inevitable decentralising of men that follows consistently leads to social censorship, as well as narrative punishment wherein lesbian women are othered and alienated, often ending up dead, straight or unhappy, thus undermining the legitimacy of female sexuality. This threat of inescapable punishment ultimately encourages heteronormativity, upholding the superiority of man and male sexual dominance.
Radclyffe Hall’s ‘The Well of loneliness’, rather than presenting lesbianism as a form of rebellion against a patriarchal society, instead demonstrates what happens when women do not conform to heterosexual relationships- that being punishment for both the lesbian characters and the author herself. The novel’s title immediately establishes its tragedy, a typical paradigm where lesbian women are denied joy and choice as retaliation for their ‘deviance’, illustrated when the governess Puddle laments how Stephen must be condemned to a “life of perpetual subterfuge, of lies of omission if not speech, of becoming an accomplice in the worlds injustice by maintaining at all times a judicious silence…” (Hall, 1956, p. 244). This tragedy is reinforced by the ending’s return to the boundaries of heteronormativity as “convention defeats the desire for personal happiness” (Whitlock, 1987, p.575) and men ultimately ‘win’ each of Stephen’s lovers, symbolic of the male’s victory over female subversion. Additionally, Stephen’s dehumanisation and alienation as a member outside the human race undermines the pursuit of gender equality by presenting lesbian women- and subsequently all female sexual radicalism- as unnatural and illegitimate. This is due to Hall’s conformance to the sexologist Havelock Ellis’ pseudo-scientific claim that “the true invert was a being between categories, neither man nor woman, a ‘third sex’ (Newton, 1984, p. 568).. By validating Ellis’ scientific theory in ‘Congenital inversion’ and by having him write a preface to her novel, Hall pathologizes all lesbian women as mere scientific defects under the voice of this male authority figure. By undertaking this restrictive practise of labelling and policing, she effectively mimics Ellis’ voice and ensures male representation in what should be an exclusively female experience, unable to escape the infiltration of male opinion (Parkes, 1994, p. 441). Ellis’ theory was that lesbian women were just men trapped in the wrong body, thereby presenting all sexual and romantic endeavours as needing a male figure, unable to survive without the protection of a man. This is seen in Stephen’s stereotypical presentation: identifying with ideals of masculine strength and aggression in her love for the hunt, her frequent dressings in costumes of heroic boyhood, assertion of ‘I’m a boy’ (Hall, 1956 p.16), and her relationships reenacting male courtship as a stock variation of the heterosexual romance plot, her and Mary’s early romance depicted as “obsessed by a kind of primitive urge towards all matters of procreation”(Hall, 1959, p. 309). This demonstrates how “lesbian relationships, Hall thought, should conform to the normal pattern found among heterosexuals, that of the aggressive male and the passive female- the protector and the protected” (Parkes, 1994, p.442). This presentation does not provide a departure from stifling convention but instead validates any and all claims men may have to places in relationships between women, undermining female power. This attempt to fit ‘new wine into old bottles’ (Whitlock, 1987, p. 573), alienates Gordon, presenting her as an invalid representation of women and disruption of the natural order, thereby presenting her free sexuality as similarly unnatural, and deterring women from becoming a part of this alienated ‘race’. The novel itself too received punishment- banned in 1928 and not published again in England until 1959. It was Hall’s attempt to achieve validation of female sexuality through the earnest preaching of it without moral censure that led to backlash, offering a real alternative to women’s normalised fates as subservient wives and child bearers (Gilmore, 199, p. 611). Despite its downfalls, the novel challenged patriarchal structures, indeed James Douglas in the Sunday Express asserted “I would rather put a phial of prussic acid into the hands of a healthy girl or boy”. Therefore, the polemical nature of ‘The Well of Lloneliness’ both negatively labelled and alienated lesbian women while also providing justification for the novel’s social censure, demonstrative of the limits of liberated female sexuality, unable to realistically be implemented into society, and instead having the opposite effect of its intention by reasserting the supremacy of heteronormative relationships.
If Hall’s ’Well of Loneliness’ undermines the legitimacy of female sexuality by sweepingly categorising lesbian women as othered stereotypes, Woolf’s ‘Orlando’ has the same impact through opposite methods- not classifying what lesbianism is to a great enough extent to make it legitimate. As Woolf’s intention was that “sapphism is to be suggested. Satire is the main note…” (Woolf, 1980, p. 131) the ambiguous nature of female sexuality in Orlando is so subtle that it could not be definitively labelled as lesbianism to an unknowing reader. The theme is only directly addressed after Orlando’s transformation, reflecting on her continued love of Sasha: “though she herself was a woman, it was still a woman she loved; and if the consciousness of being the same sex had any effect at all, it was to quicken and deepen those feelings which she had had as a man” (Woolf, 1928, p.161). However, Woolf’s explicit intention that “Everything [is to be] mocked, (Woolf, 1980, p. 131) the novel “a joke not to be taken to seriously’ (Benstock, 1994, p.183), combined with it’s fantastical style, similarly trivialises and satirises the lesbian experience. Considering moral outrage to such a novel would seem excessive and ridiculous, it did escape moral censure in 1928, yet similarly avoided having any political impact whatsoever. In this way, lesbianism is presented as a fictional and transient phenomenon that cannot be implemented into real world experience or threaten the structures of patriarchy and heteronormativity that inherently tie women to men. This is furthered by the ‘biographer’s’ continual interruption of key moments in the novel, constantly holding in check the extent female sexuality can be explored- visible in Orlando’s interactions with the sex workers: “For it cannot be denied that when women get together-but hist- they are always careful to see that the doors are shut and that not a word of it gets into print. All they desire is- but hist again- is that not a man’s step on the stair? … pass it over, and merely state that Orlando professed great enjoyment in the society of her own sex, and leave it to the gentlemen to prove, as they are very fond of doing, that this is impossible.” (Woolf, 1928, p.219-20) This evasive treatment of female sexuality suppresses its power, “substituting self-censorship for the censorship exercised by social institutions, and in this way render[ing] itself illegible” (Parkes, 1994, p. 457). The infiltration of men in this passage also disrupts female intimacy: “Women have no desires… women are incapable of any feeling of affection for their own sex and hold each other in the greatest aversion…” depriving women of any desire at all, as well as for each other. Although the gentleman’s attitude is satirised, he still dominates the narrative, representative of the dominance of men in obstructing female sexuality and denying the place of woman in the area of sex that was seen as a solely male field. The legitimacy of intimacy between women is further undermined through the character of Orlando herself-or himself- as Orlando arguably exists as both wholly a man and wholly a woman simultaneously: “Whether then, Orlando was most man or woman, it is difficult to say and cannot now be decided” (Woolf, 1928, p. 189). As a woman, Orlando never fully rids herself of her masculinity, cross-dressing in Leicester Square when she “swept her hat off to her in the manner of a gallant paying his addresses to a lady of fashion in a public place” (Woolf, 1928, p.216) and in Nell’s room “roused in Orlando all the feelings which become a man. She looked, she felt, she talked like one” (Woolf, 1928, p. 217). This inability to rid the character of her masculine qualities, and more generally her obscure gender identity presenting her as not quite a real woman, reinforces the notion suggested in ‘Well of Loneliness’ that romantic/sexual relationships between women cannot exist on their own, but must always maintain the presence of a male figure to make it valid, essentially recreating the heterosexual romance plot. Therefore, Woolf, through the intangible nature of lesbianism, prevents relationships between women from reaching a point wherein they have the power to challenge patriarchal and heteronormative boundaries, delaying the pursuit towards gender equality.
While works like Woolf’s Orlando trivialise lesbianism through ambiguity and satire, another genre that emerged in mid-20th-century literature undermines and depoliticises lesbian identity through hyper-visibility. The rise of lesbian pulp fiction in the 1950s reduced lesbian relationships to their ability to fulfil the desires of the male gaze. The presentation of lesbianism in these novels is romanticised and sensationalised, only serving to confine women to their sexualised ideals, whilst denying them of authentic sexuality themselves and putting control of it back into the hands of men. Most of these novels were purely voyeuristic, “many written by men who had never knowingly spoken to a lesbian. Wish fulfilment stuff, pure erotic daydreaming.” (Taylor, n.d) They catered to a straight, male audience, after the success of ‘pocket books’ with soldiers in WWII, featuring a male hero, the consistent objectification of women, and an ending that completely diminished the validity of lesbianism through the marriage or development of a heterosexual couple. Their ‘undeniably homophobic and voyeuristic appeal to a heterosexual male audience…[tied] this image of lesbianism to heterosexual pornography’ (Keller, 2005 p. 385), once again reducing lesbian relationships to replicas of the heterosexual romance plot rather than affirmations of female autonomy or sexual agency. This focus on male gratification over female representation led to problematic stereotypes of lesbian women, othering them through titles/ subtitles such as ‘The third way’ and ‘The third sex’, presenting them as something other than women, and therefore their ‘deviant’ pursuits as an unnatural expression of femininity. This is reinforced through the blatantly misogynistic cover of ‘The third way’, advertising ‘Blunt revelations of what happens when deviate women seek advancement in the world of business’, suggesting that lesbianism is a direct result of women’s pursuits of ‘male’ roles, thus implying that any deviation from women’s roles as domestic goddesses and submissive wives is similarly ‘unnatural’. The popularity and affordability of the novels (particularly in the US) only publicised these homophobic and conformist messages throughout the country, their ready availability in local drugstores and newsstands conveying to the American population that all lesbian women were threatening degenerates. Although some ‘pulp novels’ such as ‘Women’s Barracks’ and ‘Spring Fire’ offered more representational and sympathetic portrays of lesbian relationships, they too were stripped of authenticity by their sensationalist covers, employed by publishers who exploited the genre for profit and evidently thought exhibitionism would sell more books. The power of publishers is especially clear in Marijane Meaker’s ‘Spring Fire’, which was forced to make last-minute editorial concessions to ensure heteronormativity and ‘morality’ (Keller, 2005, p. 390). The subversive Leda becomes mentally deranged and is institutionalised, while the protagonist Mitch is ‘cured’ and decides she never really loved Leda at all: “She didn’t hate Leda. She didn’t hate her at all, and she knew then that she had never really loved her.” (Meaker, 2004, p. 160). These editorial restrictions demonstrate the continuing restrictions and patriarchal impositions that erase the potentially radical potential of lesbian literature, the control of the publisher’s re-enacting the ability of men to limit and deny female sexuality. Therefore, by sexualising and re-shaping what should be a uniquely female bond, 20th century pulp fiction delays the pursuit towards gender equality by transforming lesbian relationships from sexual power for women into another form of objectification of them.
It would be reductive to suggest all literature written about lesbian women is flawed and hollow, but it must be acknowledged that it took until 1980’s with novels such as ‘Rubyfruit Jungle’ and ‘Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit’ to portray lesbian relationships faithfully, demonstrative of the deeply imbedded values of heteronormativity that existed and continue to exist in society and literature. However, we must recognise ‘The Well of Loneliness’ for the radical stance it took on lesbian relationships at the time, as well as its ability to challenge restrictive gender norms. Woolf’s ‘Orlando’ did the same and crucially avoided censure, whilst pulp fiction novels in the 50’s provided recognition for many repressed lesbian readers and integrated the word ‘lesbian’ into popular discourse.
Therefore, the fault lies not with the authors intent but with the patriarchal structures that prevent lesbian relationships from dismantling the supremacy of male sexual dominance. The consistent alienation, erasure and punishment of lesbian women in literature ensures that heteronormativity remains intact, ultimately presenting the lesbian experience as a subversive, yet transient form of empowerment for women. Until lesbian relationships can be permitted the same emotional depth and validity as heterosexual ones, they cannot challenge their entrenched inferiority and marginalisation, that results from the male fear that lesbian sexuality will exclude and isolate them.
