One of the most amazing things I saw was, without question, the screening of the Wonder Women! : the Untold Story of American Heroines documentary.

I’d never heard of it before to be honest, which is hardly surprising as it’s an independent release (no screening near you? Organise one – there’s a link at the bottom of this post!). It’s basically a visual look at the intersections of Women Woman iconography and certain aspects of Second Wave American feminism.

Did you know that Wonder Woman was regarded by quite a few feminists as the ‘face’of Second Wave American feminism? Neither did I. Quite frankly, being a Marvel girl rather than DC, I’d always thought of Wonder Woman as one of the more tame, conservative superheroes. Didn’t she spend most of her time being tied up?

Image from Flickr.com user bbaltimore, used under Creative Commons.

I’m now going to recount my new and shiny understanding of Wonder Woman, as gleaned from the documentary through a vague haze of alcohol. Bear with me.

The iconography of Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman, it turns out, is fairly awesome. She was developed during World War II, and was therefore off fighting the Nazis (alongside Captain America? That bit wasn’t very clear) after realising that she had to go off and save America. Because that’s what awesome heroes did. She even had to win some sort of Olympiad before she was able to do it! And then she fought some Nazis, and some criminals, and in the 50s this was deemed to be DREADFUL. So she was rewritten as having given up her powers. During this period she found she wanted to make cakes, and opened a beauty parlour. OF COURSE. Because nothing says ‘superhero’ like CUPCAKES!

Anyway, along came Second Wave feminism, looking for a face for the recently-launched Ms magazine. And there was poor Wonder Woman, an icon in need of reclaiming. Off came the apron and on went on the magic bracelets!

SURELY IT IS TIME FOR THE 70S?

I won’t recount the entire documentary. Suffice to say that when the 1970s and 1980s kicked off, along with them came a whole slew of female heroines, from Cagney and Lacey, Charlie’s Angels and Bionic Woman, straight through to the live-action Wonder Woman herself, Lynda Carter.

Here, have a photo of her being awesome:

Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman. Photo from Flicker user shaunwong.

Here are some other 1970s (& 1980s) heroines.

Cagney & Lacey. Image from kaksplus.fi.

Charlie’s Angels, 1977. Image from Wikimedia Commons .

Notice anything?

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley. Image from sabotagetimes.com.

Ripley vs Van Damme

The 1980s also gave us hyper-masculinity along the lines of Van Damme, Schwarzenegger and Stallone. It also gave us Ellen Ripley and (in 1991 admittedly, therefore just in the 1990s) Sarah Connor. There are a bunch of others. The 1980s were pretty awesome for strong female heroines, which is a sentence I never thought I’d be writing. When I first saw Terminator 2 as a little girl, I didn’t even know that women could do chin-ups!

Grrrl Power dominoes

As well as the iconography of Wonder Woman herself, the documentary looked at the development of Grrrl Power. We are taken through the original use of the term through interviews with Kathleen Hanna, starting back with Riot Grrrl, and its appropriation by the Spice Girls into something commercial.

I’m not going to depress you by taking you through the deaths of all the ‘strong female characters’ on television in 2001. I think those of us in the UK were somewhat sheltered through the impact of that, having our reception of those shows delayed by several weeks or even months. We therefore did not experience their deaths as the American viewers would have: one after the other, falling down like dominoes in 2001.

Back to Wonder Woman…

Like this, only AWESOME.

… and to her fans, ages 2–99. In the documentary, there are interviews with small children and the role Wonder Woman has played in their lives. There are interviews with activists – up to and including Gloria Steinem – and their perspectives on how Wonder Woman influenced Second Wave (and in some case Third Wave) feminism – and vice versa. There are perspectives on women-saving-women and the creation of Wonder Woman Day. There’s even a Wonder-Woman-on-a-string-with-motor, making her fly around and around on a child’s ceiling. How awesome is that? I want one!

Not your grandmother’s feminism

Now let’s talk about what wasn’t there. The film isn’t marketed as a history of Second Wave Feminism, nor even the (entire) history of Wonder Woman. That’s important, because the intersections the film is talking about are intersections with white, heterosexual, cis feminism. It therefore falls down significantly on the feminism movement outside of that pretty narrowly defined range.

It was also a bit dispiriting to not have at least a mention that the original name for Ms. magazine was Sojourner. There is also little mention of the subversion of the Wonder Woman image and iconography outside of radfem activism.

That said, the film doesn’t pretend that it is in any way comprehensive, or representative of all feminism movements. And, as a look at the history of Wonder Woman and how she was reclaimed in the radfem part of Second (and Third) Wave American feminism… well, it’s pretty awesome.

Frankly, it’s worth watching for the interviews with her tiny modern-day fans alone. There is something deeply heartening about hearing a child draw strength from a feminist icon, however corrupted and reinterpreted that image has been over the years.

Not convinced? Have a look at the trailer:

See? Awesome.

• In the highly likely event that there are no screenings near you, you can contact the Outreach Coordinator at Wonder Women to arrange one.

In my previous post yesterday, I talked about the first season of American Horror Story and its reliance on two female archetypes – the femme fatale and the overbearing mother – in its construction of the monstrous.

The spoiler warning, again, goes here!

Today, I’m going to talk about reproduction, so if you want to sing that song from Grease 2, you better get it out of your system now. Ready?

Mothers are, in the world of AHS, a danger not only to their children, but also to the others that touch their lives. Pregnancy, with its easy symbolism and suitably melodramatic and gory end bit, lends itself to Horror. But it is not just the obvious that is made an object of fear.

Vivien, the walking womb-ded

As I said in part one, Vivien and Ben are a married couple facing difficulties. She’s had a miscarriage, he’s had an affair, and their relationship is in tatters. I think, I think, that we’re meant to be engaged with this crumbling marriage.

But while Ben is a rounded character – full of hope and regret, sweetness and cruelty, passion and inertia – his wife is driven only by her desire to save her marriage, which in turn is driven by her maternal desire.

Like Nora, the basement abortionist’s wife, Hayden (Ben’s deeply sexual and manipulative mistress), and Constance, the terminally abusive and neglectful mother next door, Vivien simply has uterus, will procreate.¹

Vivien is little more than a vessel, a womb with bouncy hair. She is Shroedinger’s Uterus, forever pregnant or not pregnant, host to a foetus that is alive or not alive, evil or not evil depending on the requirements of the plot in any given episode. Viven’s role as incubator is underlined when she dies in childbirth – her role is complete, so we need nothing more from her.

Vivien’s pregnancy is unusual. Hers is a product of heteropaternal superfecundation – she’s carrying twins with different fathers. One is her husband’s, the other is the result of her rape by a psychopathic ghost.² Let’s not even go into the fact that her husband doesn’t believe she’s been raped – there’s something much worse than that on the horizon.The show’s mythology tells us that a child born of a ghost and a human will be the antichrist, and we all know what that means: apocalypse.

Just in case the implication of that isn’t clear, let me put it in slightly different terms: Vivien’s vagina is the muggletuppin’ Hellmouth.

Here’s where we get into the really juicy feminist theory

Much of what I’ve said so far owes a debt to Barbara Creed’s theory of the monstrous-feminine, and in particular the abject body; the demonisation, defilement and objectification of the female body in Horror.

Vivien’s labour and delivery is presented as particularly sanguinary; a festival of blood and sweat. It’s a burlesque of the natural; a grotesque, pantomimic affair attended entirely by a gorily deceased medical staff provided by the house.

With neither the clinical intervention of the modern birthing experience nor the cleanliness of the body innocent, the birth plays on both classically Freudian and modern germophobic fears. It is, from both perspectives, unclean.

The point of Horror, if there must be one, is to walk the line between desirable and undesirable; to cross or threaten the boundaries that separate stability and chaos. Childbirth, as a triumph of the primal over the civilised and the inner over the outer, is a natural exemplar of this. It’s naturally yukky and generally unstoppable, and that makes it pretty frightening. Here we’re treated to close ups of Vivien’s sweat covered forehead, wide overhead shots that emphasise the claustrophobic urgency of the scene, and heavy blood-loss.

Horror films that depict monstrous births play on the inside/outside distinction in order to point to the inherently monstrous nature of the womb as well as the impossibility of ever completely banishing the abject from the human domain. […] The womb represents the utmost in abjection for it contains a new life form which will pass from inside to outside bringing with it traces of contamination – blood, afterbirth, faeces.

– Barbara Creed, The Monstrous Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis (1993)

Childbirth places us on the side of nature, outside of patriarchal order. Flesh is torn, blood is spilled, the sexual organs begin to resemble a wound. The imagery is graphic, base: abject. Vivien’s affinity with uncivilised, feral nature invoked, her threat to patriarchal law is cemented. The birth of Vivien’s twins is a threat fulfilled, a boundary crossed. From the abject comes the ruin of the world.

Vivien is threatened not just by the hell-spawn she’s carrying, but also by three of the ghosts that share her home. Nora and Hayden, who have lost their own children, and Chad, who has never had children, each desire ownership of Vivien’s child and conspire to steal the baby once it is born.

Baby-snatching is a common, well rooted trope in fantasy and horror, which usually points to the degeneracy of a group or being – a sign that they’re beyond redemption, truly inhuman. Infants are stolen for ingestion (as in Torchwood: Children of Earth), as revenge (like the Pied Piper of Hamlyn) or a sacrificial offering (the Buffy episode Band Candy) and occasionally, though rarely, to be raised as the kidnapper’s own. It is this which motivates the childless ghosts of AHS.

Each conspirator represents a different level of threat. Deceased interior designer Chad, constantly arguing with his (also dead) partner Patrick, is no threat at all. More concerned as he is with decorating than mending his broken relationship, he seems to think the baby will simply be handed to him. Nora, left to her own devices, is an unlikely threat – she’s narcissistic enough but ethereal and clueless.

But with Hayden, the picture is quite different. Hayden is wicked, determined and operating without fear of consequence – she’s dead, after all – and that’s precisely why she’s so dangerous.

The feminine is only established, however, if the wish for a penis is replaced by one for a baby.

– Freud, “Femininity”, New Introductory Lectures in Psycho-Analysis (1933)

The problem here is one of motivation. Now, I’m not saying there’s something wrong with wanting children. But there’s something wrong with wanting children to the exclusion of everything else. Hayden is a formidable woman brimming with agency and audacity, and, in a stunning display of the roles women play in our diverse society, she’s pregnant too.

When she dies, she’s contributing all her energy to winning Ben back, and then, bam! One blunt-force trauma later, her whole reason for being has changed. Now, I get that dying is the sort of thing that might emotionally scar a person, but COME ON. The child in her belly, previously presented only as a tool of emotional blackmail, will never appear, so she’s obsessed with replacing it.

And that’s the key to understanding both Hayden and Nora. They both want to replace children they’ve lost. It is a narcissistic craving; a desire merely to possess. The possibility of motherhood has stripped them of rationality, maybe even sanity, and turned them into objects of dread. Here motherhood truly is ‘the most powerful feminine wish’ (Freud again, in 1933), and it is dangerous.

In the eyes of AHS, women are to be feared. Female sexuality is aberrant if not abhorrent, and represented by crude Freudian symbolism (if you aren’t yet convinced, check out the suckling infant literally devouring his mother’s breast).

I’m with Simone de Beauvoir when it comes to Freud, but not so Messrs. Murphy and Falchuck; it’s like they’ve tried to dramatise Introduction to Psychoanalysis.

The second season of American Horror Story recently began its run on UK television (on FX, new episodes Tuesday evening). So far it’s really pushing the boat out to hate women in a variety of new and exciting ways under the guise of a critical look at the pathologising of sexuality and historic attitudes to poor mental health.

It’s terrible. You’re going to love it.

• Libby earned her feminist stripes interning for the Fawcett Society where she was horrified by most of the stories she heard. An accidental activist, she is a regular contributor to BCN, the UK’s only 100% bisexual publication. Her latest project, TreasuryIslands, is the home of her other passion – children’s literature. Libby is very proud of her bad reputation.

1. In a worrying conflation of hetero femininity and queer masculinity, one half of the gay couple who also haunt the house is also constantly yapping about having a child.
2. Who, by the way, IS WEARING A LATEX FETISH SUIT because that isn’t sex negative, kink-shaming douchery AT ALL.

Sappho

Sappho gave birth to two of my favourite things: lyric poetry and lesbianism. Born in 630 BC on the island of Lesbos, Sappho had a pretty good life, considering her gender. She was rich, talented and of good social standing. Her poetry, which she performed with a lyre (she invented a new subtype of the instrument, and the plectrum, of all things) was well-respected. She had her face on coins and on vases. But she was pretty lonely. The girls in her circle (which was either a religious order, something like a preparatory class or simply a gathering of women, depending on which scholars you believe) would all leave her when they married, and when she fell in love with them, she knew that they would inevitably part. She probably never married herself (accounts differ, but most scholars agree she did not, despite being linked to a male poet of the day) and almost definitely preferred women.

If I could go back and get her in my time machine, I’d sign her up to a dating site, put in a DVD of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode “Restless” (which features a lesbian writing Sappho’s poetry on her lover’s back) and explain to her that when she met the right lady, she would be able to date her, live with her, and in some parts of the world, marry her.

I’d show her this video, of Ellen and Portia’s wedding:

And I would be so excited because, in this time of technology, the beautiful poetry she would no doubt produce, probably about the woman she would eventually meet online, would never be lost and never be forgotten.

Ada Lovelace

Ada Lovelace was a genius. Born in 1815 in London, she was the product of very short-lived marriage of mad, bad asshole poet Byron and staunchly moral abolitionist Anne Isabelle Milbanke. Schooled in mathematics from an early age, at the behest of a mother desperately trying to prevent her from turning out like her father, Ada began corresponding with important intellectuals on a variety of subjects while she was still in her teens, including Charles Babbage. The notes she included with her translation of an Italian mathematician’s article about Babbage’s Difference Engine were revolutionary and contained the very first working programming language, leading her to be seen as history’s first computer programmer.

If I could go to the Victorian period and pick her up, I’d go for the bright young Ada, before the affairs and the gambling. I’d show her iphones and laptops and cash machines, making it clear to her that none of this would exist without her. I’d take her to the Apple store and show her an iPad. I’d open a browser and let her google until she thought her head would explode with the sheer scope of it all. Then I’d go to the Google careers page and make her fill out an application.

Emily Dickinson

Born in 1830, in Amherst, Massachusetts, Emily Dickinson was not a famous poet during her lifetime. She was not a famous anything during her lifetime.

Known by her neighbours as an eccentric who dressed in white and rarely left the house, she wrote almost two thousand poems, only ten of which were ever published while she was living. Her fascination with mortality, due to numerous personal tragedies, along with her concise, free verse style, made her work a little too ahead of its time to be appreciated until much later. She was an avid letter writer and by the end of her life she was communicating almost exclusively via the written word.

If I could go back, I’d whisk Emily away from the early 1860s, when she was a fiercely creative thirty-something. I’d set her up in a nice apartment with a pretty garden – little known fact: Emily Dickinson was much better known for her gardening than for her writing in her lifetime – and hand her a shiny new laptop. After a hopefully brief, not too infuriating tutorial on the technological revolution, I’d introduce her to Facebook and Skype.

I’d show her how easy it is to instantly communicate with individuals from all over the globe and all walks of life whenever she pleased. I’d explain to her that now, with these tools at her fingertips, she could have her precious solitude without sacrificing the social stimulation she clearly craved. Next, I’d direct her attention to the numerous writers’ communities online. I’d show her the pages and pages of poetry – and the range of quality, from emo teens to professional writers. I’d encourage her to get involved and post daily. Finally one of the most under-appreciated poets of the nineteenth century would be able share her thoughts, feelings and art with like-minded individuals without ever having to leave her desk.

Amelia Earhart

Amelia Earhart, born in Kansas in 1897, was as ballsy and independent as they come. She wanted to fly, so she flew. She wanted to fly all the way across the Atlantic, so she signed up to command a flight piloted by men in a project funded by a rich woman. She wanted to do the trip for real, solo, and a few years later, she did. In 1937, she decided she wanted to be the first to fly around the world, and sadly, this was where it all went wrong. She disappeared in the air, having flown almost the entire way around the world with only a navigator accompanying her. There are too many theories about how and why this happened to mention, but the most accepted explanation is mistakes were made, preparation was shoddy and she ran out of fuel over the ocean, plummeting to a watery grave.

If I could go back and get her, I’d go back to the early Thirties, and pick her up after her solo flight across the Atlantic, before she was forced to endorse product after product just to maintain her high profile, and before the press began their obligatory backlash, calling her flying chops into question.

I’d sit her down on my bed, fire up my laptop, and show her YouTube videos of women flying commercial flights and flying for fun and flying as fighter pilots. I’d show her this video of the Women In Aviation conference in San Diego:

Most importantly, I’d tell her that flying is now safe. The technology has caught up with her dreams and it is very unlikely, in the age of GPS and state of the art air traffic control, that what happened to her would happen now. I would also let her know that now, it is possible to set off to circumnavigate the globe before breakfast and arrive home in time for tea!

Margaret Cavendish

Margaret Cavendish, née Lucas, author of a diverse list of books, on subjects like philosophy and science as well as a memoir and creative works of poetry, drama and the world’s very first science fiction novel, The Blazing World, was born in 1623 in Colchester. Yep, really. In a time when most women would never think about trying to write a word, let alone publishing under their own name, Cavendish was a famous and controversial writer.

Her critics complained about her spelling and grammar as much as they did about her writing at all. They also criticised her outlandish style of dress, calling her “mad, conceited, and ridiculous” – but her originality, paired with her keen interest in and interpretation of early science, made her popular.

If I could journey back to the 17th century, I would go to 1668, the year The Blazing World was published, and I’d bring Margaret back here. The first thing I would do is encourage her to get tested for dyslexia, as some scholars have suggested that this would have accounted for her terrible spelling and grammar. I’d show her women delivering lectures on TED about robotics and neuroscience:

I’d get her an application for Oxford University and introduce her to Microsoft Word complete with the lifesaving blessing that is spell check. Once she was accepted at Oxford, she’d get all sorts of support for her dyslexia, and shiny equipment. She would excel at all her subjects, even the ones that weren’t invented in her time. I’d watch her study, graduate, write and publish, and then become an academic, scientist, writer or all three. I’d sit back, hope for another science fiction novel, and smile smugly when she cured cancer.

Sadly, there ain’t no such thing as time travel. It’s likely there never will be. But I can wonder and I can dream. And I can use thought experiments like this to remind myself I have the freedom to love whomever I choose, aim as high as I choose, live however I choose and be respected for it. How very lucky I was to be born in 1984.

• Francesca Lewis is a queer feminist Yorkshirewoman, wordsmith and fruitcake. In Internetland, she is known as Franzi and divides her writing time between creative and journalistic endeavours, including her Big Distraction column Pop Smart and That Novel She’s Working On. In Realityland she works as an art model and spends the rest of her time on art, ukulele and the feverish consumption of media. She likes high quality American TV shows, female singer/songwriters and novels that land somewhere between literary and speculative. Ironically, she does not like fruit cake.

1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Such a cheat to have this on the list, but like or hate Joss Whedon, BtVS was paradigm-busting. Buffy set a standard for female heroes that has been

Buffy: not optional viewing.

endlessly copied since. Yes, her love life crowds into her slaying, but Buffy has always been a slayer first and foremost. The supporting characters are also pretty awesome, with strong female characters abounding. Buffy may have its weaknesses, but you can’t afford NOT to have watched it.

2. Xena: Warrior Princess

Speaking of paradigm-busting, Xena is a warrior, backed up by a bard/fighter/peacenik/yogi. Plus, the show featured one of the first canonical lesbian relationships on TV. Xena kicks arse, and Gabrielle writes about it. I love this show for many, many reasons. It runs the gamut from silly and hilarious to quite simply heart-breaking. It’s fun, and sexy, and strangely heart-warming at times, and whether you like the LARP swords or not, you can’t afford to ignore this one either.

3. Grey’s Anatomy

Caveat: I’ve only watched up to Season 5 of this show, as I understand that it looses its way quite badly later on. But the first three seasons, especially, are exemplars of career women trying to make it in a very masculine profession. The friendship between Cristina and Meredith is for me one of the highlights of the show.

Cristina Yang is better than you in every way.

4. Alias

Sydney! I love Sydney. And Irina, and Nadia, and Rachel, and Francie, and Emily. You may have gathered that this show is all about women. Sure, Jack and Arvin and Michael all get their turn in the limelight, but the most dangerous characters on this show are the women. They are what make the world turn and tremble.

5. Veronica Mars

This is noir in high school. Veronica Mars is one of my favourite ‘cop’ shows, and Veronica isn’t even a cop. She’s a pretty normal 17 year old girl… if by ‘normal’ we mean someone who in the last year has had her best friend murdered, her mother walk out, her father lose his job, her boyfriend leave her, oh and wake up after a party not remembering anything with her underwear missing. Yeah, Veronica is having a swell year. She joins her dad in his P.I. firm, and investigates cases in and around her school, all the while trying to find out who murdered her best friend. The second season story arc is a bit ropey, and the third season is pretty bad, but the first season (with a self-contained story arc) is some of the best TV out there. Don’t miss this.

6. Prime Suspect

Speaking of detective shows… hands down the best one out there. Is it any wonder, with Helen Mirren acting her socks off? DCI Jane Tennison is abrasive, smart, and an alcoholic. She’s investigating a series of serial killers, while dealing with sexism and hostility from her colleagues. I love this, but I can’t watch it too often; it’s too upsetting.

7. Damages

So the UK has Helen Mirren, and the US has Glenn Close. Why hasn’t this little show received more attention? A law student ends up the protégé of a successful female attorney, and it’s all fantastic until someone turns up dead…

8. Fringe

Another FBI agent-investigates-the-unusual. Olivia Dunham is, however, not your average FBI agent, and a strong supporting cast

There may have been other people in this show. I don't know, I was too distracted by Angela to notice.

make this pretty interesting. The bits that I like are how Olivia rescues herself in the manner of awesome heroes everywhere, and how the Evil Overlady is just. So. Damn. Awesome. Nina FTW!!

9. Bones

Temperance Brennan is a forensic anthropologist. Yes, I know that’s not actually a real job, but for the purposes of TV, bear with me. She works for a museum, and in her capacity as a consultant she fightssolves crime! Her partner is Seeley Booth (yes, I know, not actually a real name), and he’s a … cop? FBI agent? CIA person? I wasn’t paying attention. Anyway, there’s gross things happening all over the country, and Brennan goes around being brilliant at crime scenes and saving the day. She has a lovely team of wacky sidekicks, who are all pretty awesome actually. Angela – who is in no way shape or form any scientist I can recognise – is the best friend, and the friendship between them is real and thoughtfully handled.

10. Star Trek: Voyager

Yes, yes. Not Star Trek’s finest hour. If you want thoughtful politics, get DSN instead. But, hey, Voyager isn’t all bad. It has Star Trek’s first female captain, for starters. Janeway is pretty awesome for managing to be an older woman (40! Why, she’s practically drawing a pension) and a sexual being at the same time. When Seven of Nine came on board and Janeway started explaining This Human Thing We Call Kissing Dating, my happiness was complete. You don’t need to get all seven seasons of this, but do check out Janeway being all Die Hard in Macrocosm, and the whole of the 7/J flirting saga.

More Christmas recommendations to follow…