A Grave
June 12, 2011
“If the good citizens of Arcadia, Florida, could chase from their midst an average, law-abiding family, it is, I would suggest, because in looking at three hemophiliac children they may have seen – that is, unconsciously represented – the infinitely more seductive and intolerable image of a grown man, legs high in the air, unable to refuse the suicidal ecstasy of being a woman.” ~ Leo Bersani discussing HIV/AIDS in “Is the Rectum a Grave?”
This article rocked me more than once. The author, Leo Bersani, is rather fond of rhetorical shock tactics, and I suppose that I am as well. It forces an audience to engage with a text by defying their expectations and interrupting their ‘interpretive flow’ (i.e. by forcing them to pause and consider rather than skim across). It is somewhat humorous, too, that he writes of people like Catherine Mackinnon coming across as radical or even insane for their rhetoric. He is certainly familiar with the perception and effect of this kind of rhetoric, and his decision to use similar shock tactics and radical rhetoric is, doubtless, an informed one.
I had a strange urge to share this passage (and several more) with others, to thrust it into the world and force people to engage with it as I was forced by it to engage with the article. But it wasn’t quite right. People wouldn’t understand without the context (I doubt I completely understand even with it). The quote is a part of my desire to be ostensibly radical (simply being radical seems inadequate, if it is even possible to separate from appearing so). It is difficult to pinpoint how these words (or the characterizations of sex as violence, money as oppression, &c.) are different from attending a pride parade or decrying victim-blaming. All are political speech acts, and all are in the ideological minority in this country. Initially I thought perhaps the more acceptable ones were simply more well-known, that the reason “radical” feminism, anti-capitalism, and queer politics were poorly received was their lack of exposure. But this isn’t really true. The passage I began with would go over terribly with many people I know, but its point is already endorsed by the same people.
The point Bersani is angling at is simple: the situation shouldn’t have happened. He is referring to the ostracization and eventual arson committed against a family whose three sons contracted AIDS from blood transfusions in the late 1980′s. The transfusions were medically necessary (i.e. not the result of homosexual contact or drug use), and the disease was fatal for at least two of the brothers. At the time, however, the boys (still in their early teens) had been barred from attending schools because of the stigma surrounding AIDS, and the family finally had to move away when their home was torched. Most people here today would likely agree that that was bad, and probably also that it had something to do with the homophobia tied to HIV/AIDS. But many of those same people would still find Bersani’s word’s objectionable, or at least unsavory.
And he has a deeper, more critical (and fascinating) point to make with the diction in the final phrase, but that other function, that discussion of active and passive sex roles, is also not why people object, I think. Frankly, I don’t think there is enough in the quote to communicate this second (yet primary) function. Instead, it seems that the very jarring nature of the rhetoric is the turn-off, not its content. It is graphic and shocking (“suicidal ecstasy,” “being a woman”). It offends people’s sensibilities. It is offensive. While I am not offended by it, I can recognize its offensive nature. That’s what stopped me, shook me, and forced me to think. That’s why I fell in love with the passage. And that’s also why I fear that it would be rejected by many of the people I know; they would be offended. The mode of communication which makes it successful with one audience makes it objectionable to another.
I don’t know a way to reconcile that tension, and this attempt at appeasement with watered-down, under-thought prose doesn’t seem to be even the right direction. Bersani’s writing needs no apology, it draws its strength from being unapologetic (thus forcing a reader to make the apology and adjust his own position). This is my fascination with the offensive, the obscene and the objectionable.*
~ J. William Lockhart
* It should be noted that other things are offensive and objectionable in a different way. I do not mean, here, to suggest any support for acts of violence and hate. To these things, the objections are as intellectual and moral as they are visceral.
June 12, 2011 at 7:54 am
Offensive prose may force a reader to actually think about the subject about which he is reading in a more critical way than he would otherwise. However, I suppose in considering this one must identify the nature of one’s intended audience. If Mr. Bersani is writing for academic audiences who do a lot of skimming and reading then it is pleasantly novel and appropriate to have such otherwise excessively dramatic language and imagery. However, if he is writing for his opponents or to change the mind of someone on the fence, I’m not sure this tactic is the most appropriate. Instead, it seems to detract from the true point by making an issue objectionable instead of approachable. While I very much enjoy the writing of, say, the feminist blog pervocracy.blogspot.com, I recognize that the more academic tone of realadultsex.com is more likely to appeal to opponents of feminism. I enjoy writing that makes me pause and think, but I do not advocate it as an argumentative tactic when trying to approach someone who does not already support my point of view. To this end, I must admit to being bewildered by your support of it, as presumably you are trying to educate the world and encourage more open minds not alarm and revolt those who might have been your allies.
June 12, 2011 at 6:40 pm
“Is the Rectum a Grave?” seemed too theoretical to have been a position piece or an attempt at mass appeal — that is, offensive rhetoric is the least of its obstacles with a ‘broader audience.’ Changing minds of people who already have serious differences of opinion (i.e. traditional advocacy) is likely not intent, given the degree of nuance in the article and the background information necessary to understanding it. It is likely written for people already immersed in the field.
Further, it seems wrong to separate his point from offensive delivery. In fact, I think the true point is the objectionable nature of his subject. Critical theory in general has much to be critical of. Often the point is that something which is ubiquitous is also terrible in ways that are generally unseen. If this is true, then the objectionable delivery closely mirrors the point (namely, that the subject of criticism is objectionable). In this instance, he describes the offensive phenomena of homophobia in an offensive way. This kind of parody between rhetoric and meaning is, in general, impressive, and it is my impression that I wanted to share. My desire to share the passage was not just about exposing others to this particular text or communicating to them a particular idea or conclusion. Rather, it was an urge to share the experience of reading it. I wanted to share with them something from the text which is more than its plain meaning. This is why I was afraid it would fail — others would not have that experience. As you say quite correctly, they would be repulsed.
But even then, I am not sure I don’t support sharing it. My feelings here, my urge to share it, is more affect than anything and did not originate in any logic about winning converts, so to speak. I never claimed that it was good or beneficial to share. It may be difficult to justify, but I rather like the idea of alarming and revolting people with some ideas. If I think the idea is a good one, and another person is revolted by it, then frequently I also think that they are wrong. I want to expose people who hold disagreeable positions to the things they are wrong about. It may be excessively confrontational, but I get pugnacious at times, and I like disrupting illusions of homogeneity.