Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Shavian Ambivalence"

Zohar Shavit is a full professor in the School for Cultural Studies in Tel Aviv University, Israel. In 1978 she concluded her Ph.D under the supervision of Itamar Even-Zohar, with a dissertation on modernism in Hebrew poetry of the 1920s. Departing from the fundaments of Polysystems theory, the author has been presenting, since the 1980s, innovative reflexions in the field of children’s literature (CL), many of which regarding translation and international traffic of CL. Besides her best-known work, Poetics of Children's Literature (1986), Shavit has written an important group of academic articles and book chapters in which she deals with ambivalence in CL, with the need to formulate a poetics for its study, with the role of translations in the formation of Hebrew CL, with the phenomenon of cultural interference, with the canon.

El presente artículo aborda la literatura infantil de Silvina Ocampo, concretamente algunos de los cuentos que integran La naranja maravillosa (1977). En este volumen, la autora manipula algunos relatos publicados previamente en sus contarios destinados al público general para adecuarlos al público infantil. Este trabajo examina las modificaciones que se llevan a cabo en las distintas versiones con la finalidad de dirigirse a diferentes lectores implícitos. De acuerdo a la Teoría de los Polisistemas y, sobre todo, a las investigaciones de Zohar Shavit, Silvina Ocampo integra los cuentos en dos sistemas literarios, con las implicaciones derivadas de este hecho. Finalmente, los cuentos poseen un carácter ambivalente y ocupan una posición difusa en el sistema tanto por la manipulación de los relatos como por la concepción de la infancia que subyace a su narrativa.

In tandem with cultural taboos about menstruation, girls have traditionally posited ambivalent relationships between their bodies, sexuality, and menstrual cycles.{1} From the historic menstrual hut to the modern invention of premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) to the pervasive social norm of eliciting female menstruation from others (Delaney et al., 1988) menstruation was categorized as distasteful, socially deviant, and in some cases pathological. similarly, the contemporary lady regularly revels in shameful approximately our bodies in the context of sex, citing body photo issues, sexual "disorder," and matters we experience approximately every day as key sexual issues (Kleinplatz, 2001; Nobre and Pinto-Gouveia, 2008; Plante, 2006; Tiefer, 2001)1. girls routinely engage in a range of normative body practices to manage their 'disgusting' bodies (Roberts and Goldenberg, 2007) {2}: hiding menstruation, shaving (Tiggemann and Lewis, 2004) {3}, sports make-up, weight control, hiding body parts odors and extensive care. while several studies have looked at women's feelings, sensations, and responses to menstruation—especially negativity toward menstruation—relatively little research has examined how these cultural interpretations of menstruation fueled women's sex lives.

The paper aims at investigating the critical opinions about Bernard Shaw’s ambivalent relation to feminism. In this regard, the researchers highlight the emerging role of postfeminism and its overlapping elements with the Islamic portrayal of womanhood. Shaw differs from his predecessors drastically – he portrays independent female characters as compared to the invisible and submissive females of the past. Thus, one of the striking features of Shaw’s drama is the depiction of liberated women. The Shavian women do not consider men folk as their rivals. There is a shift from powerless to empowered women in academia. The researchers find out that there is an ideological conflict between feminism and Islam but as far as postfeminism is concerned, there is none. Rather, postfeminism propagates and supports the Islamic concept of womanhood thoroughly. It is also worth noting that feminist ideas and ideology have greatly dented the social and political fabric of mankind and human civilization in general. Whereas, postfeminism propagates in favor of maintaining a balanced position for womanhood in life which is a balance between social and individual life, and a balance between professional and family life. The purpose of this article is to promote a better understanding of the status of women in Islam and its overlapping and common areas with postfeminism, that is, God has equated female folk at par with their male folk. The research is significant as it challenges the western notion of women in Islam and dispels the erroneous notions of suppression of women in Islam. The prime finding of this research is that postfeminism proclaims equal footing for men and women in life, as enshrined in the Holy Quran. Further, the researchers lament that just because of myopic-minded people, the world is not making any progress intellectually. The researchers recommend that there is a dire need to promote liberal intellectuals like Shaw who harbor no bias against Islam and Muslims to maintain peace and order in the world.

Background: Previous public health research has demonstrated that barbershop services in Sub-Saharan Africa involve close-shaving styles that may irritate the skin or cause injuries particularly among clients with razor bumps. Barbershop services may also facilitate client-to-client transmission of pathogens because they involve reuse of sharp implements (e.g., clippers) and other tools (e.g., brushes, towels and combs). The above concerns are compounded by limited access to adequate sanitization products in reasonably-priced barbershops. Focus of the Article: The goal of this formative research was therefore to identify and assess the structure of hygiene and hair care beliefs to be targeted by a social marketing intervention by integrating elements of the marketing mix and fundamental assumptions of the information-motivation-behavioral skills (IMB) model. Research Questions: To elicit hygiene and hair care beliefs, respondents were asked to state up to 9 beliefs specific to hygiene and safety information, perceived consequences of raising hygiene and safety concerns in barbershops (motivational beliefs) and efficacy skills in practicing hygiene and safety behaviors. To assess structural adequacy of the proposed IMB model, beliefs underlying information and motivation were hypothesized to be positively associated with beliefs underlying hygiene and safety negotiation skills as well as frequency of close-shave practices. To determine whether parameters of IMB model might differ across rural and urban settings, the following research question was considered: do individual paths and mediating mechanisms operate differently across rural and urban IMB models? Importance to the Social Marketing Field: This research provides empirical evidence for the integration of social marketing principles within the IMB framework and the potential of such integration in developing formative propositions for social marketing interventions in low-income contexts. Methods: This research was conducted in two phases. In phase one, data from a semi-structured survey ( N = 65) were analyzed to identify modal salient beliefs and set up subsequent survey research. Phase two consisted in collecting cross-sectional survey data ( N = 622) and using exploratory and structural equation modeling to assess the proposed model. Results: Together, identified beliefs and statically significant associations between IMB variables suggest that barbershop clients experience ambivalence toward risks associated with barbershop use, the relative benefits of alternative behaviors (e.g., use of personal shaving kits) and what it would cost them to receive the benefits. Recommendations for Research or Practice: Results in this study call attention to various ways in which the marketing mix can be used—to not only provide ecologically relevant information and increase motivation but also sell the benefits of hygienic barbershop use, offset prices of safer practices and draw attention of policy makers. There was no evidence of moderated mediation or moderation across individual paths to support significant differences between respondents in urban and rural settings, suggesting that a single-group model can be used to design interventions in both settings. Limitations: Future research should pre-test specific intervention features to identify audience reactions to preliminary propositions discussed in the current study.

The last decade has witnessed the rise of a new type of Hollywood film star: the softboy. Actors including Timothée Chalamet and Harry Styles all appeal to the stereotypical characteristics of this type—young, skinny, fashionable, clean-shaven, quirky, gentle and emotionally intelligent. By analysing a sample of mainstream media articles on the softboy published between 2015 and 2023, the following paper seeks to deepen our understanding of this influential internet type and the dominant stereotype of masculinity he undermines—what R. W. Connell termed hegemonic masculinity. More specifically, this paper explores the extent to which the softboy can be understood as the product of an overlapping matrix of demand from gay male and straight female film and television audiences. Within this matrix, the softboy emerges as the result of a delicate balancing act in which he avoids presenting either as too straight, too gay or too masculine. He achieves this balance through a range of strategies involving clothing choices, film role choices, choices about sharing his personal life with the public and a carefully curated public persona. Considering the softboy from a cultural materialist perspective, this paper argues that the affected personality traits and designed sexual ambivalence of the softboy can be understood as a response not of men themselves but of the entertainment industry to both the increased demand for this type from straight female audiences in the wake of the #MeToo movement and the increasingly recognised demand for this type from gay male audiences. For straight women, the softboy appears to have superseded the stereotype of the muscled, bearded, deep-voiced or emotionally unavailable man in the hierarchy of desire precisely because he resists being easily framed as an aggressor. Meanwhile, either by playing gay roles in films or pandering to a stereotypically gay aesthetic or set of behaviours, these actors appeal simultaneously to the gay male audience. This analysis therefore attempts to construe contemporary changes in the nature of masculinity as it is represented by the rise of the softboy film star in terms of fundamental changes in the market of desire.

COVID-19 has greatly affected the education sector compelling educators to adapt to online teaching and platforms quite abruptly. Thus, this study aims to determine the impact of this pandemic on the life of college faculty and its consequences on their social, emotional, and personal aspects due to the transition from physical classes to online lectures and design a support program to help reframe and alleviate its impacts. This is a descriptive study using a convergent mixed methods design. Employing a snowball sampling technique, a modified web-based global questionnaire that is divided into 7 sections, was administered via Google forms. With the use of SPSS v. 23, results showed from 81 respondents in 37 universities that despite the limited time and resources in the preparation, the faculty displayed an adaptive behavior. Remarkably, the narratives related impacts of emergency remote education on personal life circumstances more than what the figures showed in the statistical analysis. Three important words emerged with ambivalent themes as the general views on COVID -19 as generated by NVivo QSR: life, time and changes. Using Braun-Clarke approach to thematic analysis, the narratives also evoked that spirituality and emotions play a significant role in coping. The support program was designed with the academic, social and emotional aspects in the key result areas with proposed program and activities such as educational policy on the pedagogy of care, continuing digital literacy program, social support elements of emotional concern, instrumental aid, appraisal, virtual socialization and also conduct of webinars, workshop series and fellowship as coping mechanisms.ReferencesAristovnik, A., Keržič, D., Ravšelj, D., Tomaževič, N., & Umek, L. (2020). 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Abstract ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’ is one of Hans Christian Andersen’s best known fairy tales. All over the world it appeals to children and adults alike. As such it belongs to what Zohar Shavit (1986) called ‘children’s literature with an ambivalent audience.’ This study addresses the question as to how translators deal with this dual audience. Do they stick to it or do they rather adapt the story more clearly to children? The corpus consists of the original Danish text and fourteen translations and adaptations in six languages. The research focuses on the implied dual audience as it is given shape in source and target texts on the phonological, lexical-semantic, syntactic and pragmatic levels. The first part of the article investigates how substitutions, omissions and rearrangements might change the dual orientation of the text. The second part deals with the additions and examines how they influence the divertive, creative, emotional and educative function of the text.

On the streets of Indian villages one sometimes comes across an unusual sight of a group of closely shaven persons in female attire, singing and dancing, making overtures to the onlookers, cracking sexually charged jokes at men and making loud clapping sounds with their hands. To people these individuals may look very interesting and outlandish freaks of nature. Not because they sing and dance but because of their ambivalent physical appearance. They shave, smoke and talk like men but dress and behave in a more feminine way. On seeing them, one question which would immediately strike relates to who are these people, male or female? And if they are neither males nor females, then what? In the Indian society these peoples are popularly referred to as ‘Hijras’, ‘Khusras’, ‘Asexuals’, ‘Neutrals’, ‘Eunuchs’, etc. All the terms included in the nomenclature are used to describe the identity of these people who have one thing in common and perhaps the most decisive one that there is something wrong with their sexual organs. So one can say that, for years we have looked at Hijras, but never seen or understood them.

A growing literature on the emergence of a Hebrew national culture in the Jewish Yishuv of Palestine has opened up new understandings of the construction of Jewish nationhood in the modern world and its place in the broader context of modern nationalism. Yaacov Shavit and Shoshana Sitton conceive their study of the Yishuv's festive culture primarily as a contribution to this literature, in which they point to two principal lacunae. First, they argue that much of the scholarship to date has overlooked or oversimplified what were in fact “complex links between the ceremonial tradition and the [new national] festivals” (xii). Indeed, the revolutionary self-image that was central to so much of Zionist thought has often excessively colored the historiographical picture, and scholars have at times too hastily accepted the notion that Zionist culture in Palestine was an unambiguously radical new departure, fundamentally at variance with traditional Jewish ways of life. In fact, revolutionary though it was, Zionist culture in Palestine grew out of an often intense (if ambivalent) dialogue with the Jewish past. Not infrequently, it is the very attempts by (some) Zionist cultural activists to shake free of that tradition's impact that most clearly reveal its lingering shadow.

IntroductionWithin social media visibility campaigns, selfie captions usually work to produce coherent identity categories, linking disparate selfies together through hashtags. Furthering visibility politics, such selfie captions claim that authentic identities can be made visible through selfies and can be described and defined by these captions. However, selfie captions by the trans artist Alok Vaid-Menon challenge the assumption that selfies and their captions can make authentic identity legible. Through hashtags, emojis, and punning text, Vaid-Menon’s selfie captions interrogate visibility politics from within one of visibility politics most popular contemporary tools, demonstrating how social media can be used to theorize representation. Coherence, Visibility, and Authenticity through HashtagsMobilising and organising identitarian counterpublics through hashtags—from #DisabledAndCute (Wade) to #GirlsLikeUs (Jackson, Bailey, and Welles 2)—these captions operate as hyperlinks that lead users to collections of all the images similarly tagged or captioned. This draws attention to certain aspects of the images, and produces coherence and similarity, despite the actual diversity of the individuals participating in these projects of visibility. These captions also question the over-determination of visibility with authenticity in dominant discourse, and the assumption that visibility can guarantee authenticity. For example, this is apparent in the Human Rights Campaign’s 2014 publication Transgender Visibility: A Guide to Being You, which offers visibility as a critical strategy for “living as authentically as possible” (quoted in David 28).Further, as images that seem to enable direct, unmediated, and hence “authentic,” self-expression (Lorbinger and Brantner 1848), selfies are described as ideally designed for visibility politics (Duguay 4). Visibility politics relies on aesthetic representation to expand the boundaries of commonsense to include those who were previously excluded—all without challenging the underlying logic that produces the inclusion of some through the exclusion of others (Rancière 141–3). In social media visibility campaigns, selfie captions are therefore a critical tool, for they not only use hashtags to create webs of interconnected selfies that produce a coherent, visible identity category, but through doing so, they reinforce the illusion that selfies—as photographs—exhibit an unmediated relationship between sign and signified, offering a visual authentication of identity. Thus, social media visibility campaigns presume that the authentic self can be made legible through selfies and their captions, reiterating, as C. Riley Snorton writes, the “popular, long-held myth—that both the truth of race and the truth of sex are obvious, transparent, and written on the body” (3).Because visible markers of gender and race are assumed to offer access to the “truth” of identity (Rightler-McDaniels and Hendrickson 178), visibility politics are usually heavily invested in this idea of visible authenticity—they also, ultimately, provide a critical avenue for commodification, branding, and consumerism (Banet-Weiser 35; David 30). However, in direct contrast to this, the trans artist Alok Vaid-Menon—a non-binary South Asian performance artist whose pronouns are they/them—uses selfie captions to expose and explode the insufficiency of visibility politics, albeit while promoting their personal brand.Vaid-Menon: Captions, Hashtags, and Intersectional IdentitiesIn Instagram posts that include both still and video selfies, their punning captions undermine any direct relationship between sign and signified, and use playful language to challenge the logic that selfies can transparently communicate authentic identity. Instead of producing coherence, Vaid-Menon uses hashtags to insert charged, political posts within supposedly apolitical series, disrupting any claims to similarity. For example, although Vaid-Menon’s selfie captions draw attention to particular elements within the image, they highlight those aspects of the visual field that make it impossible to identify a single, unified identity.It is also worth discussing here how this plays out in a specifically visual medium such as Instagram. Drawing on the resources of this platform, these selfie captions include emojis, thereby doubling the elements of the visual field within the space of the caption, and emphasising the symbolic function of cultural signifiers of identity. Thus, Vaid-Menon’s selfie captions demonstrate that social media platforms are not merely conduits for visibility politics, but instead offer rich resources for interrogating and contesting the politics of representation.Throughout Vaid-Menon’s Instagram selfies, punning captions appear—examples include “beach the change you want to see in the world” and “fifty shades of gay.” In these captions, puns not only draw attention to the texture and flexibility of language—a linguistic playfulness that is always already present in social media platforms through ludic hashtags (Rightler-McDaniels and Hendrickson 187)—but also highlight elements within the image that put pressure on the idea of coherent and unified identity. By doing this, these captions explicitly declare that identity work is self-consciously performative, producing identities that are not a question of authenticity—even within the framework of “branded authenticity” (Banet-Weiser 11)—but that might instead be read through the more ambivalent notion of “sincerity” (Jackson 15).An example of this can be seen accompanying a slow-motion video selfie of Vaid-Menon in a blonde wig (AlokVMenon, 9 January 2016a). The significance of body hair for South Asian women and femmes is a reoccurring theme throughout Vaid-Menon’s selfie captions. They are vocal about the political significance of body hair, and use hashtags and text captions to address how body hair complicates their ability to communicate the truth(s) of their identity. In the video, brightly painted lips parted, Vaid-Menon twirls the blonde curls around their fingers, while the slow-motion effect emphasises the movement of each lock of hair. Simultaneously, Vaid-Menon’s dark body hair is prominent and visible, including chest hair, the shadow of a beard, and thick eyebrows.The image is accompanied by a caption which asserts punningly “gender is racial construct: blondes have more funding”, thereby transforming the gender studies dogma that “gender is a social construct” and the popular culture slogan that “blondes have more fun.” The caption uses this wording to point out that the gendering of body hair as masculine delimits femininity as whiteness, and also privileges white (cis) femininity within capitalism. Like the caption, the image also reveals how “gender is a racial construct,” staging the tensions between Vaid-Menon’s “natural” dark body hair (gendered masculine) and the bright, blonde wig they wear (gendered feminine, but racialised as white). Further, within late capitalism, the caption “blondes have more funding” lays claim to a possibility that the image forecloses—because “gender is a racial construct,” this increased funding is likely to be out of reach for brown trans femmes who look like Vaid-Menon. Together, the caption and the image suggest that hair is both the solution and the problem for Vaid-Menon—although “blondes have more funding,” the blondes who get funded are white, and definitely not covered in thick, dark body hair.Posting selfies that show off their body hair, Vaid-Menon regularly captions these images with the hashtag #TGIF (AlokVMenon, 19 August 2016) thereby taking advantage of the cross-platform utility and democratising function of hashtags (Rightler-McDaniels and Hendrickson 176) to insert these images into a space that is not usually one of critical race and gender analysis. Popular on Fridays, the hashtag #TGIF usually stands for “thank God it’s Friday,” but Vaid-Menon uses the ubiquitous hashtag to mean “thank goddess I’m femme.” As a result, the “thank god it’s Friday” hashtag introduces unsuspecting users to Vaid-Menon’s #TGIF selfies and their interrogation of the racialised politics of hair. Through inserting critical analysis of race and gender within such a light-hearted, non-serious hashtag, that is, by capitalising on the popularity of #TGIF, Vaid-Menon appears to defy the norms of discursive consistency within social media discourse (Rightler-McDaniels and Hendrickson 187) while simultaneously enhancing their personal brand (Banet-Weiser 59). Beyond hashtags, Vaid-Menon’s captions elaborate on the distinct pressures they experience around body hair, discussing how their body hair simultaneously obscures their ability to be recognised as femme and makes their race hyper-visible. In the caption on one #TGIF post, Vaid-Menon writes that, when they began shaving at age 13, it was an attempt at “becoming white.” Now, they write, they face pressure to authenticate their transfemininity by shaving, noting that, in this case, authenticity requires “invisibilization” (AlokVMenon, 15 November 2016).Vaid-Menon continues this theme in another selfie post, again problematising the supposedly direct relationship between authenticity and visibility. This example—in which Vaid-Menon poses against a violet background wearing a curly, blonde wig (AlokVMenon, 9 January 2016 b) their thick, dark hair contrasting strongly with the wig’s light gold—aims to critique the signifying power of the blonde wig.From the hyper-saturated colours, to the bright gold nose rings, to Vaid-Menon’s body hair, the selfie combines—and emphasises—markers of artifice and authenticity, femininity and masculinity. Reinforcing these contradictions, the caption interrogates the relationship between authenticity and visibility, stating “authenticity is a fraught project in a world that ritualizes your invisibilization.” Bringing together weighty concepts that occur in time, the caption speaks of ritual, the project of authenticity, and the process of invisibilisation, yet the selfie itself is a frozen instant, with nothing in the post clarifying what point of these processes, if any, it captures. In the selfie, the hyper-saturated colours highlight the wealth of information that the visual field makes available, but the image itself cannot answer the question of what visible markers, if any, communicate the truth of Vaid-Menon’s authentic identity. As the caption states, also foreclosing any answers, “authenticity is a fraught project,” and, moreover, that authenticity is threatened by what is not visible. While authenticity discourse presumes that the visual field offers the firmest epistemological grounds for assessing and legitimating identity, the visible may not convey the full reality of identity nor experience (Jackson 159). Furthermore, within selfie conventions, visual imperfection usually signifies authenticity (Lobinger and Brantner 1849), but this selfie has characteristics of professional photography, including the studio background, further marking it as a hybrid of authenticity and artifice.Through the intersection of the caption and the selfie, Vaid-Menon therefore casts into question the ability of the visual to successfully signify authentic identity. Thus, the caption reinforces and extends the work that the selfie does to trouble the coherence of Vaid-Menon’s identity. It should be noted, however, that this caption simultaneously participates in the production of Vaid-Menon’s personal brand, investing in a distinct mode of authenticity that Sarah Banet-Weiser has dubbed “AuthenticityTM,” an authenticity that is available to artists precisely through their creative and performative rejection of social norms (119–20). Refusing such normative assumptions about the relationship between hair, race, and gender, the caption and the selfie therefore position the blonde wig as simultaneously artificial and authentic.The tension between artifice and authenticity is explored further by Vaid-Menon in a set of two videos exploring the symbolism of the blonde wig, both captioned with an emoji of a blonde, white woman (AlokVMenon, 11 January 2016; 12 January 2016). By doubling the image of blonde hair within the caption—through the emoji that operates, rebus-like, as a substitute for language—these two captions shift the function of the blonde wig from a tactile, experiential object to an abstracted symbol of white womanhood. In the videos, Vaid-Menon, in character as “Becky” (Kelly) plays with the wig while delivering a monologue full of stereotypes about white women, a monologue that is summed up by the static, cartoonish emoji. As the visual spreads from the photograph into the space of the caption, the caption emphasises the symbolic—as opposed to the tactile or realist—function of the photographed wig.Across the series with the blonde wig, this shift from experiential object to abstract symbol happens primarily through the captions, although it also extends to the images. For example, accompanying the slow-motion video, the first caption puns “blondes have more funding” as the slow-motion video shows Vaid-Menon enjoying the physical sensation of the blonde curls. The slow-motion video creates an endless, looping present as its 7-second runtime repeats over and over, drawing our attention to the materiality of time and touch through the slow-motion effect. In the close, frontal framing of the video, the viewer does not see the pleasure of Vaid-Menon’s hand touching the wig itself, but rather its effect, as the curls fall slowly against Vaid-Menon’s cheek. Meanwhile, the punning caption is also concerned with texture, experience, and effect, drawing the viewer in to the texture of language. While the video stages an intimate, haptic pleasure, the selfie, posted later that same day, displays the wig, stressing what it might represent, rather than how it moves or how it feels. In the selfie, Vaid-Menon poses with one hand raised, caught in the act of twirling a curl, and the caption moves away from the pleasures of wordplay to a more overt political stance—“authenticity is fraught.” Here, their hand seems to pull the hair away from Vaid-Menon’s face, interrupting the sensuous intimacy of curls against their face.These selfie captions assert not only that cultural constructs make authentic visibility fraught for minoritised subjects, but, through the “transparent and economical” emoji (Bloom 248), these selfie videos and their emoji captions also serve to mediate blonde, white womanhood. As the image of the blonde wig proliferates, moving into the space of the caption, the final video selfie also introduces a second character, a white woman, presumably cisgender, wearing a different blonde wig, who appears suddenly behind Vaid-Menon.This tall, skinny woman with corkscrew blonde curls approaches the viewer with curiosity, swaying her body as she walks forward, with her eyes fixed on the camera. Pursing her lips, she produces the facial expression commonly described as “duckface,” a feminised facial expression that is common in selfies and marks the performative—rather than unmediated—self-expression they make possible. As she approaches Vaid-Menon and the camera, she ends up half-in and half-out of frame, lingering at the edge of our vision. Her presence has a disquieting and jarring effect, as Vaid-Menon continues their monologue without acknowledging her, despite the fact that she must be visible to Vaid-Menon on their cell phone screen. Then, because the video is a loop, the monologue ends abruptly, and the video restarts. As Vaid-Menon performs the role of Becky, the white woman who hovers eerily behind Vaid-Menon in the final video is pushed to the edge of the frame and ultimately vanishes at the moment of the loop. The structure of the loop is a provocative approach to questions of visibility, given that visibility politics asserts that visibility is teleologically directed toward future change, while in fact visibility politics reproduces the status quo that it makes visible (Keeling 33). Here, since Vaid-Menon only manages to displace “Becky” by enacting her (over and over), the final result is not (yet) an uncomplicated or uncompromised brown trans femme visibility.By staging the incoherence of claims to visible authenticity, Vaid-Menon’s selfie captions foreclose the possibility of successfully “passing” into coherent identity categories. In the series of posts with the blonde wig, Vaid-Menon never succeeds in seamlessly embodying any single identity category, and these tensions appear within the images as well as in the relationship between image and caption. This failure to “pass” is political, and as J. Jack Halberstam writes, there is a queer art to failure, for “under certain circumstances failing, losing, forgetting, unmaking, undoing, unbecoming, not knowing may in fact offer more creative, more cooperative, more surprising ways of being in the world” (2–3).Failure is also a critical aesthetic element in social media humour, with the hashtag #fail curating posts that ironically celebrate mistakes and failures (Zappavigna 152). In selfies and selfie captions, Vaid-Menon revels in the queer art of social media failure. For example, in a selfie posted on 23 December 2016, Vaid-Menon stares solemnly past the camera, wearing vibrant, contrasting colours, including a bobbed purple wig, bright yellow lipstick, and a dress covered with bright, multi-coloured polka dots. The caption on this colourful, clearly queer, photograph proclaims that Vaid-Menon is “str8 acting looking for same #discrete” (AlokVMenon, 23 December 2016).Everything in the caption operates as a promise that will never be fulfilled, as even the hashtag—#discrete—fails to connect the selfie to other, similar images, as this hashtag is populated by a wildly heterogenous mix of images ranging from sexual images, to landscape photography, to images of fashionable, modern homes. Here, Vaid-Menon participates in a common social media practice, subverting the utility of hashtags and using them as paratextual commentary rather than as tools for networked cataloguing. In this post, Vaid-Menon’s failure to conform to the standards of homonormativity—which would require Vaid-Menon to appear “straight-acting” and to be able to promise discretion to a lover—is pushed to excess, producing a glorious rainbow of queer failure. Similarly, in the series of posts featuring the blonde wig, Vaid-Menon’s campy, parodic version of blonde, white womanhood does not simply demonstrate soberly that the standards imposed by white supremacy and heterocispatriarchy are unreachable. Instead, the series produces this attempt to pass into acceptable white femininity as a strange, delirious failure, accompanied by brilliant colours, strobing slow-motion, and punning, incisive captions.ConclusionIn Vaid-Menon’s Instagram posts, selfies and their captions interrogate and challenge the assumption that authentic identity can transparently be made legible through selfies. Through hashtags, Vaid-Menon’s captions draw upon the resources of the social media platform to connect their selfies to a network of other—not necessarily similar—images, inserting their “thank goddess I’m femme” selfies amid the wealth of “thank god it’s Friday” Instagram posts. And, by using emojis as captions, Vaid-Menon undermines the ability of the caption to anchor the visual to coherent meaning by substituting images for language.Through images and captions, Vaid-Menon’s Instagram selfies restage the act of direct, immediate self-expression as a complicated negotiation of the mediating pressures of language, social media platforms, digital photography, and, ultimately, culture. Furthermore, although selfies are celebrated in popular culture and online activism for the “visibility” they seem to make possible, Vaid-Menon’s selfie captions indicate that social media can do far more than simply promulgate visibility politics. This is necessary, for, despite its compelling lure, visibility politics not only neglects to imagine alternative futures, but actually limits future possibilities through its focus on the present, which is inevitably shaped by the past (Keeling 23). Instead, while building their personal brand on Instagram, Vaid-Menon simultaneously uses selfies and selfie captions to interrogate visibility politics from within one of its most popular contemporary tools, exposing the limitations and compromises of “visibility.” Rather than merely a tool for representation, Vaid-Menon’s work demonstrates how selfies and selfie captions can produce theories of, and about, representation.ReferencesAlokVMenon. Instagram post. 9 January 2016 a. <https://www.instagram.com/p/BAVG-Q3Olqs>.AlokVMenon. Instagram post. 9 January 2016 b. <https://www.instagram.com/p/BAVSkAoOlmF>.AlokVMenon. Instagram post. 11 January 2016. <https://www.instagram.com/p/BAa-CXnOlla>.AlokVMenon. Instagram post. 12 January 2016. <https://www.instagram.com/p/BAdDLiCulhe>.AlokVMenon. Instagram post. 19 August 2016. <https://www.instagram.com/p/BJTp9cNhBPI>.AlokVMenon. Instagram post. 15 November 2016. <https://www.instagram.com/p/BM27QEFAmBu>.AlokVMenon. Instagram post. 23 December 2016. <https://www.instagram.com/p/BOWp_S3glq7>.Banet-Weiser, Sarah. Authentic TM: The Politics and Ambivalence in a Brand Culture. New York: New York UP, 2012.Bloom, Lynn Z. “Critical Emoticons.” Symplokē 18.1-2 (2010): 247–249.David, Emmanuel. “Trans Visibility, Corporate Capitalism, and Commodity Culture.” TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly 4.1 (2017): 28–44.Duguay, Stephanie. “Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans, and Queer Visibility through Selfies: Comparing Platform Mediators across Ruby Rose’s Instagram and Vine Presence.” Social Media + Society 2.2 (2016): 1–12.Halberstam, J. Jack. The Queer Art of Failure. Durham: Duke UP, 2011.Jackson, John L. Real Black: Adventures in Racial Sincerity. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2005.Jackson, Sarah J., Moya Bailey, and Brooke Foucault Welles. “#GirlsLikeUs: Trans Advocacy and Community Building Online.” New Media & Society (2017), 1–21. DOI: 10.1177/1461444817709276.Keeling, Kara. The Witch's Flight: The Cinematic, the Black Femme, and the Image of Common Sense. Durham: Duke UP, 2007.Kelly, Cara. “What Does Becky Mean? Here's the History behind Beyoncé's 'Lemonade' Lyric That Sparked a Firestorm.” USA Today 27 April 2016. <https://www.usatoday.com/story/life/entertainthis/2016/04/27/what-does-becky-mean-heres-history-behind-beyoncs-lemonade-lyric-sparked-firestorm/83555996>.Lobinger, K., and C. Brantner. “In the Eye of the Beholder: Subjective Views on the Authenticity of Selfies.” International Journal of Communication 9 (2015): 1848–1860.Rancière, Jacques. Dissensus: On Politics and Aesthetics. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2013.Rightler-McDaniels, Jodi L., and Elizabeth M. Hendrickson. “Hoes and Hashtags: Constructions of Gender and Race in Trending Topics.” Social Semiotics 24.2 (2013): 175-190.Snorton, C. Riley. Nobody Is Supposed to Know: Black Sexuality on the Down Low. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 2014.Wade, Carrie. “’I Want to Be Visible’: A Queer #DisabledAndCute Photo Gallery.” Autostraddle.com. 20 Feb. 2017 <https://www.autostraddle.com/i-want-to-be-visible-a-queer-disabledandcute-photo-gallery-369532>Zappavigna, Michele. Discourse of Twitter and Social Media: How We Use Language to Create Affiliation on the Web. London: Continuum, 2012.

The western world has an enthusiasm for blondes that amounts to a cultural fetish. As a signifier the blonde is loaded: blondes have more fun, blondes are dumb, blondes are more sexually available, blondes are less capable, less serious, less complicated. The blonde is, in modern day patriarchy, often portrayed as the ideal woman. The Oxford Dictionary defines a Goddess as a female deity or a woman who is adored for her beauty. The Blonde Goddess then is the ultimate contemporary female, worshipped for her appearance, erotically idolised. She may be a Playboy bunny, the hot girl on the beach or the larger than life billboard, but everywhere her image haunts mere mortals: the men who can’t have her and the women who can’t be her. During the second wave of feminism the Blonde Goddess was vilified as an unrealistic illusion and exploitive fantasy and our enthusiasm for her was roundly challenged. She was a stereotype, feminists cried, a site of oppression, a phoney construct. Men were judged harshly for desiring her and women were discouraged from being her. Well beyond hair colour and its power as signifier the very notion of Goddessness, of being adored for one’s beauty, was considered repressive. Women were called upon to refuse participation in blondeness (in its signifying sense) and Goddessness (in the sense of being revered for attractiveness) and men were chastised for being superficial and chauvinistic.Nevertheless, decades later, many men continue to lust after her, women (and increasingly younger girls) work ever harder at being her — bleaching, shaving, breast augmenting and botoxing — and the media promotes endless representations of her. If the second wave thought the Blonde Goddess would give up the ghost easily it was mistaken but what their enthusiastic critique did enable is the birth of a new type of Blonde Goddess, one generally considered to be stronger, more empowered and a better role model for the 21st century Miss. Though the likes of Mae West hinted at this type of Blonde Goddess well before Madonna it was not until Madonna’s generation that she went mainstream. There have been many Blonde Goddess “It girls” — Jean Harlow, Jayne Mansfield and Debbie Harry (singer of the band Blondie) to name a few, but two in particular stand out as the embodiment of these types; their bodies and identities going beyond the image-making machinery to become a kind of Blonde Goddess performance art. They are Marilyn Monroe and Madonna. The enthusiasm for blondeness and Goddessness routinely gives rise to faddish cultural enthusasisms. In Monroe’s day her curvaceous figure was upheld as the model female form. After Madonna appeared with her bangles and layered tops girls all across America and around the world dressed like her. Drawing on Angela Carter’s feminist readings of De Sade in The Sadeian Woman and envisioning Monroe and Madonna, two of the most fêted examples of Blonde Goddessness in history, as De Sade’s Justine and Juliette reveals their erotic currency as both couched in patriarchal gender relations and binding us to it. Considering Monroe and Madonna with the Marquis De Sade characters Justine and Juliette in mind illustrates that Goddessness as I’m defining it here — the enthusiasm which with women rely on beauty for affirmation and men’s enthusiastic feeding of that dependence — amounts to a feminine masquerade that disempowers women from a real experience of femaleness, emancipation and eroticism. When feminists in the 60s and 70s critiqued the Blonde Goddess as the poster-child for good old-fashioned sexism it was women like Monroe they had in mind. What feminists argued for they largely got — access to life beyond the domestic domain, financial autonomy, self-determination — but, as a De Sadian viewing of Madonna will show, we’re still compromised. While many feminists, most notably Andrea Dworkin, rejected the Marquis De Sade, notorious libertine and writer, as a dishonourable pornographer, others, such as Luce Irigaray and Angela Carter, felt he accurately reflected the social structures and relations of western civilisation and was therefore fertile ground for the exploration of what it is to be a woman in our culture. Justine and Juliette are erotic novels that recount the very different fortunes of two dissimilar sisters. They are beautiful (of course) and as such they are Goddesses, even while being defiled and defiling. Monroe and Madonna are metaphorical sisters in a man's world (and it was an infamous touch of video genius when Madonna acknowledged as much by doing Monroe in the video for “Material Girl” early on in her career). Yet one is a survivor and one isn't. One is living and one is long dead. Monroe is the Blonde Goddess as victim; Madonna is the Blonde Goddess as Villain. Monroe cast a shadow; Madonna has danced with the shadow. Both Marilyn and Madonna assumed a feminine masquerade so successful, so omnipotent, that they became not just Goddesses, desired by men, admired by women, and emulated by girls, but the most iconic and celebrated Blonde Goddesses of their age. It was, and in Madonna’s case still is, a highly sexualised masquerade that utilises and promotes itself as a commodity. Both women milked this masquerade to achieve notoriety and wealth in a world where women are disadvantaged in the public sphere. Some read this kind of exploitation of erotic desire as a mark of subjugation while others see it as a feminist act: a knowing usage of means toward a self-possessed end, but as Carter will help demonstrate, masquerade is, either way, an artificial construct and our enthusiasm for trading in it comes at a high price. Monroe, the sexy, fragile child-woman, was the firstborn of the sisters. Her star rose in the moralistic fifties, and by all accounts she spent most of her time in the limelight frustrated by her career and by the studio’s control of it. She was “owned”, and she rebelled against it, fleeing to New York City to study acting at the renowned Actors Studio. She became a devoted student of method acting, a technique that encourages actors to plumb their emotional depths and experiences, though her own psychological instability threatened her career. She was scandalously difficult to work with: chronically late, forgetful, and self-indulgent; and she died alone, intoxicated and naked. Conspiracy theories aside, it seems likely that a cocktail of mental disturbance, man trouble, and substance addiction led to her premature death by overdose in 1962. Monroe’s traditional take on blondeness and Goddessness embodied the purely feminine masquerade and translated to the classic Justine trajectory.Madonna can be thought of as Monroe’s post-modern younger sister, the next generation of Blonde Goddessness. Known for her self-determination, business savvy and self-control Madonna’s self-parody and decades long survival and triumph in a male dominated industry is remarkable. Perhaps this is where the sisters differ most: Madonna challenges the dominant semiotic code of traditional gender roles in that she combines her feminine masquerade with masculinity, witness the pointy cone bra worn with pinstripe trousers and monocle on the “Blonde Ambition” tour. Madonna is the new blonde — shrewder, more forceful, more man-like. She plays girly in her feminine masquerade, but she does so self-consciously, with a wink, as the second sister who has observed and learned the lesson of the first. In Carter’s exploration of the characters of Justine and Juliette she notes that when the orphaned girls are turned out of the convent to fend for themselves, Justine, the sister whose goodness and innocence is constantly met with the brutality and betrayal of men, "embarks on a dolorous pilgrimage in which each preferred sanctuary turns out to be a new prison and all the human relations offered her are a form of servitude" (39). During Monroe’s pilgrimage from foster care, to young wife, to teen model, to star she found herself trapped in an abusive studio system that could not nurture her and instead raped her over and over again in the sense that it thwarted her personal aspirations as an actor and her desire for creative autonomy by overpowering her with its demands. Monroe did not own her own life and sexuality so much as function as a site of objectification, a possession of the Tinsel Town suits. In her personal life she was endowed with the “feminine” trait of feeling; she was, like Justine, "the broken heart, the stabbed dove, the violated sepulcher, the persecuted maiden whose virginity is perpetually refreshed by rape” (Carter 49).In real life and in most of her characters Monroe was kind hearted, generous, caring and compassionate. It is this heart that Justine values most; whatever happens to the body, no matter how impure it becomes, the heart remains sacred. The victim with heart is morally superior to her masters. In a suffering that becomes second nature, "Justine marks the start of a kind of self-regarding female masochism, a woman with no place in the world, no status, the core of whose resistance has been eaten away by self-pity” (57).Conspiracy theories and rumors of Monroe's suffering and possible murder at the hands of the Kennedys (cast as evil Sadian masters) abound. Suicide attempts, drug dependency, and nervous breakdowns were the order of the day in her final years. The continuing fascination with Monroe lies in the fact that she was the archetypal sullied virgin. Feminine virtue and goodness require sexual innocence and purity. If Monroe’s innocence (a feature of films like Some Like it Hot) was too often confused with stupidity she made the most of it by cornering the market on bimbo roles (Gentleman Prefer Blondes is her ultimate dumb blonde performance). But even those who thought she couldn’t act realised that her appeal was potent because her innocence was infused with the potentiality of an uncontainable libidinous energy. Like Justine, Juliette was a woman born into a man's world, but in her corruption Juliette decided beat men at their own game, to transcend her destiny as woman at any cost. Carter says of Juliette: She is rationality personified and leaves no single cell of her brain unused. She will never obey the fallacious promptings of her heart. Her mind functions like a computer programmed to produce two results for herself — financial profit and libidinal gratification. (79)Indeed, it could be said that it is financial profit and libidinal gratification that most defines Madonna in the public’s eye. She is obscenely rich and often cited for her calculated re-inventions and assertive sexuality (which peaked in the early nineties with the album Erotica and the graphic Sex book). Madonna, like Juliette, is a story-teller. Even if she isn’t always the author of her songs she creates narrative interplay using song, fashion, and video. Like Juliette Madonna takes control of her destiny. She heads her own production company and is intimately involved with the details of her multi-faceted career. Like Monroe Madonna is said to have slept around strategically in her pre-stardom years, but unlike Monroe she was not passed around. The men in Madonna’s life early in her career were critical to advancing it. From Dan Gilroy, who helped form her first rock band, the Breakfast Club to DJ John "Jellybean" Benitez, who remixed tracks on her debut album Madonna took every step up the ladder of success guided by a precision instinct for self-preservation and promotion. She was not used up as she used others. Her trail leaves no sign of weakness, just one envelope-pushing accomplishment after another, with a few failures along the way, most notably in film. Though very different central to both Monroe and Madonna’s lives and careers is a mega-watt erotic appeal, an appeal that has everything to do with their respective differential repetitions of being blonde.In Eroticism Georges Bataille defines eroticism as the fusion of separate objects involving the play of discontinuity and continuity. In Bataille’s work these words have a specific and unconventional meaning. Discontinuity describes our individuality, our separateness from each other, a separateness that reigns in our social and work-a-day lives. Continuity refers to dissolution of separateness that is most associated with death but which is also experienced by way of exalted living through a taste of transcendence. Bataille posits three types of eroticism: physical, emotional and religious and he claims that they all “substitute for the individual isolated discontinuity a feeling of profound continuity” (15).Here Bataille meets De Sade. In the Introduction to Eroticism Bataille speaks of De Sade’s assertion that we come closest to death (continuity) through the “licentious image.” Further, Bataille declares that eroticism is not just an enthusiasm; it is the enthusiasm of humankind. “It seems to be assumed that man has his being independently of his passions,” he says. “I affirm, on the other hand, that we must never imagine existence except in terms of these passions” (12). He goes on to state that our enthusiasm/eroticism is not just an aspect of our being, but its driving force: “We are discontinuous beings, individuals who perish in isolation in the midst of an incomprehensible adventure, but we yearn for our lost continuity. We find the state of affairs that binds us to our random and ephemeral individuality hard to bear.” (15).Human beauty is, Bataille suggests, measured by its distance from the animal — the more ethereal (light and unearthly) the female shape and texture, and the less clear its relation to animal reality, the more beautiful — the erotic moment lies in profaning that beauty, reducing it to its animal essence. Perhaps this is another reason why blondeness matters and signifies sex, conferring as it does a halo, an ethereal “light” which evokes the sacredness of continuity while denying the animal (the hairy and base reality of the body). This is the invitation The Blonde Goddess makes to defilement, her begging to be reduced to her private parts. Juliette/Madonna subverts her blonde invitation to be profaned by actively taking part in the profanation. Madonna has openly embraced gay culture, S & M, exhibitionism, fetishism, role-play and religious symbolism placing herself centre stage at all times. Justine/Monroe attracted erotic victimisation while Juliette/Madonna refused it by sleight of hand, and here again De Sade can help make sense of this. The works that illustrate this difference between Justine/Monroe and Juliette/Madonna most clearly are The Misfits and Truth or Dare. The Misfits is a beautiful and delicate film, written by Monroe’s then husband, Arthur Miller. The role of Roslyn is rumored to be based on Monroe's own character and her relationship with its three metaphorically dying cowboys reveals an enchanting and pale Justine broken by the dysfunctional and dominating masculinity around her. In contrast, Truth or Dare is a self styled documentary of Madonna’s “Blonde Ambition” tour. It portrays Madonna striking a pose as the tough-talking Queen of the castle, calling the shots, with a bevy of play-thing pawns scuttling beneath her. But, opposite as these characterisations are, some sameness emanates from the two women in these works. Something haunts the screen and it is this: the sisters’ unavoidable cultural roots as women. Even as Madonna sucks on a bottle in faux fellatio, even as she simulates masturbation on stage or scolds her messy young dancers there is something melancholic about her, a vague relationship to Monroe. And here Carter helps solve the mystery: "She [Juliette] is just as her sister is, a description of a type of female behavior rather than a model of female behavior and her triumph is just as ambivalent as is Justine's disaster. Justine is the thesis, Juliette the antithesis” (79).In other words, in Carters’ view Justine/Monroe as heart personified maintains the traditional role of woman as body, as one belonging to the private sphere who pays dearly for entering public life, while Juliette/Madonna as reason personified infiltrates the male dominated territory of culture. Unlike Monroe, Madonna gets away with being a public figure, flourishes even, but as Carter’s Juliette, this victory has required her to betray herself in some way. It is “ambivalent” and Madonna doesn’t quite get off scot free. Madonna has been progressive in that she moved away from the traditional feminine role of body in a forbidding industry, but even though her lucrative maneuvering is more sophisticated than Monroe’s careening, she walks a fine line. In De Sade the sexuality of a libertine is a male identified desire in which women are objectified and exploited. Madonna’s trick is to manifest in feminine masquerade then take an ironic turn in objectifying and exploiting herself in what amounts to a split persona, half woman, half man. In other words she seduces herself under our gaze, and she dares to enjoy it. Ultimately, neither sister can escape the social structure into which she was born. Monroe, who was unable to live as a real woman, lives on as a legend, a Blonde Goddess in the eternal feminine masquerade. Madonna is reborn every time she re-invents herself but it’s hard to tell, with all the costume changing, who the real Madonna is. It was the unactualised real woman that the second wave tried to free by daring to suggest that she existed and was valuable beyond signification and Goddessness and that she had a right to her own experience of enthusiasm/eroticism rather than being relegated to the role of being the “licentious image” for the male gaze. The attack on the Blonde Goddess underestimated the deeply rooted psychic/emotional conditioning at play on both sides of the Blonde Goddess game. Here we are in a new millennium in which the ‘pornified’ Blonde Goddess is everywhere but even if she’s more unfettered and sexually active that deeply rooted conditioning remains. For Carter neither Justine nor Juliette is a worthy role model for the women of today and it would seem to follow that neither are Monroe nor Madonna. However, Carter does speak of “a future in which might lie the possibility of a synthesis of their modes of being, neither submissive nor aggressive, capable of both thought and feeling” (79). Blondeness as a signifier and Goddessness as a function inhibit an experience of shared enthusiasm and eroticism between men and women. When Bataille speaks of nakedness he means eroticism as the destruction of the self-contained character that gives rise to an experience of continuity. This kind of absolute nakedness is impossible for those trapped in the cycle of signification and functional relations. I suggest that the liberation project of the second wave of feminism stalled when in our desire to not be Justines we simply became more akin to Juliette. Blondeness as a signifier is still problematic, and Goddessness of the kind I have spoken of here — women’s attachment to using beauty to garner adoration in place of an innate sense of self and worth and men’s willingness to patronise it — is still rampant and both the Justine and Juliette feminine masquerades produce a false economy of enthusiasm and eroticism that denies the experience of authenticity and the true potential of relationship. The challenge now is one that most needs to be met not in the spotlight but in the privacy of our own beings and the forum of our lives as the struggle for synthesis continues in those of us, female and male, blonde, brunette, redhead, black or grey-haired, who long for an experience of ourselves and each other that transcends masquerade. ReferencesCarter, Angela. The Sadeian Woman. London: Virago Press, 1979.Bataille, Georges. Eroticism. London: Marion Boyars Publishers, 1987.Madonna. Erotica. Warner Bros, 1992.———. “Material Girl.” Like a Virgin. WEA/Warner Bros, 1984.——— and Steven Meisel. Sex. Warner Bros, 1992. The Misfits. Dir. John Huston.. MGM, 1961. Some Like It Hot. Dir. Billy Wilder, Billy. MGM, 1959. Truth or Dare. Dir. Alek Keshishian. Live/Artisan, 1991.

To analyse critically contemporary communications and network technologies, and to understand how they become more (or less!) political, we need to learn about the forms of attachment, the kinds of 'stickiness', and the 'velcro effects' which block or negate as well as enable contemporary infrastructural politics. In the following tableau, the heuristic fiction comes from psychotherapy (Orbach, 2000). Imagine the cultural/new media/critical researcher as the analyst. The forms of attachment to be analysed include the analyst's own as she/he comes into relation with changing infrastructural regimes. Her or his reflections are italicised. Articulation The clients are a male couple, a community-minded activist artist-hacker, Pete, and a corporate IT strategist, Roger. They come to the consultation. It starts off badly. Pete shouts at Roger, who sits quietly beside him. Pete's clothes are loose and dark, he wears funky fluorescent trainers and his laptop backpack is geek-cool. Roger is in suit and tie, neat haircut, closely shaven, a slim aluminium briefcase leans against his pinstriped trouser leg. A few minutes into the session, it looks like Pete might come to blows with Roger. Interceding, the therapist asks them to say what brought them there. Pete and Roger begin to talk about the dilemma that had precipitated the anger and distress. Pete appeals for affirmation of how he has been wronged. But as Roger talks, the dominant feeling shifts to confusion. They are certainly in trouble as a couple, but clearly neither is about to relinquish this relationship. When cultural researchers of technology open the door to a new problem, they do not occupy a separate critical space in which knowledge about objects, practices, relations, processes, or figures come to be represented. Rather, only through 'articulation,' as Donna Haraway suggests, can they add another link, another twist in the knotted linkages which constitute the domain in question (Haraway, 1997, 63). What link(s) would we want to add to the contemporary contests over network infrastructure, where the central issue is figured as access to bandwidth and ubiquitous connectivity? Revolution and convolution Before the dotcom crash, Pete and Roger's relationship had been blissful and imaginative. Together, through the years of virtual reality and the browser wars, they had agreed on and implemented protocols, cut code, designed new applications and increased connectivity. Imagining full-blown virtuality had been a shared project; they were making a world together. The arrival of online shopping, email spamming, music swapping, massive on-line gaming and even open source software had not damaged it. Although they had come from different backgrounds and upbringings, they needed each other. For Roger, Pete had represented an urban sub-cultural well-spring of invention in contemporary technological cultures. Despite his corporate confidence and affluence, Roger knew that kudos on the street underpinned commercial success. From Roger, Pete trusted he would gain access to infrastructure and technical capacity that was the basis of a shared domain of communication. Their relationship before the dotcom crash had worked well because there had been no question about their desirability to each other. There had been conflicts, but both loved their work and found it meaningful. Already we see attachment to infrastructure becoming convoluted. The infrastructural-political lies neither outside or inside technology itself. What appears as a technological revolution – the arrival of the Internet – can be a convolution in relation to collective life. The affective energy attached to communication infrastructure can be seen as the 'historical and political reality of the mass and of crowds in movement' (Balibar, 1998, 16). We could say, as Gatens & Lloyd (1999) put it, that '[r]elations of communication of affect between human individuals are ... subsidiary to the relations of communication between the affects themselves' (66). From this standpoint, the relation between the couple refracts different affects meshing with each other. Hence, we need to understand the fears and hopes, desires and mourning associated with technological media differently. Attachment to technology After the dotcom crash of early 2001, things became more difficult. Their relationship met an extremely simple dilemma: low or high network bandwidth (Lovink, 2003, 370). Pete loved technical limitations like narrow bandwidth. They stimulated artistic, political, economic and collective creativity. He was fond of the Unix command line, shell scripts, cutting code in Python or Perl, ascii art, and hand-coded html. Roger, by contrast, saw technical limitations, especially those of bandwidth, ruining the Internet. Slow or unreliable access to the net thwarted its development into a truly mass popular entertainment medium. Only high bandwidth and mobility could rescue it. He thought Pete was part of the problem. Pete represented over-attachment to the platform. Pete's love of the intricacies of code, his insistence on tinkering, making-do, recycling, sharing and re-appropriating was all very well but it was an obstacle to popularity. In his more idealistic moments, Roger even thought that Pete's truculent defiance of the popular Internet and his attempts to save the masses from being duped only 'obscured the real social significance of their pleasures' (Walkerdine, 1999, 192-3). Strong technological attachments are no accident for two reasons. Firstly, the political is underpinned by collective affects or an awareness of bodies in relation (Gatens & Lloyd, 1999, 77). Secondly, 'human affairs (praxis) and the management-production of things (technç),' (Stengers, 2000, 163) are integrated in our politics. When politics integrates human affairs and technical things, collective affects concerning infrastructure arise. In contemporary politics, utopian and dystopian fantasies and visions of 'the good life' figure through communication infrastructure. Infrastructures are integral to how cultural forms of life render and inhabit their worlds. Thus, politics increasingly concerns technoscapes (Appadurai, 1996). Dilemmas of technical capacity By the end of 2002, contact between them was perfunctory. Pete was active in community networking projects in East London and 'Pico Peering' (http://picopeer.net/wiki/). In conjunction with a local housing association, he installing a wireless backbone for community access. The projects of the late 1990s - virtual spaces for artists, on-line communities, direct action hacktivism, collaborating on open source projects - seemed less important, although he did still work on them. Connection to a vibrant, ethnically complicated and crowded inner city seemed more interesting than either the relative abstraction of code or the predictability of commercial Internet. 'Carving out mobile space is good', Pete often said, 'but reclaiming public space is better' (Gerritzen & Lovink, 2002, 93). Roger, meanwhile, had embraced broadband connectivity, not caring that it mostly seemed to be used for pornography and music downloads. It was fast, popular, and becoming the norm in Europe and USA (Warwick, 2003). Like others, he thought 'never enough Internet capacity can be provided to the velocity-hungry on-line masses' (Lovink, 2003, 370). The dilemma of bandwidth forks from a deeper ambivalence about technical capacities and their role in futurity. On the one hand, technical capacity promises to overcome existing limitations. On the other hand, limitations only become relevant when they function as sites of differentiation or problematic zones open to diverse technical and non-technical solutions. All kinds of contestation, production, representation, identification and regulation cluster around these sites. The problem for cultural analysts of technology is articulating how certain sites of differentiation attract significations, technical innovations, objects/gadgets, infrastructures, regulatory apparatus, commercial-legal conflicts, feelings and concerns. The work of articulation involves disembedding these sites and extracting the relations of communication between affects that flow through them. Connectivity and collectivity Roger is having an affair. He met Erica at a wireless LAN trade exhibition held in the Olympia Exhibition Hall during late May 2003 (http://www.wlanevent.com/home/default.asp). Hewlett Packard-Compaq, Toshiba and Fujitsui had stands, some of the telcos and network operators were there too. Lining the back alleys, generic hardware and software manufacturers displayed their gadgets and ran their software demos on laptops. 'Directors' and 'sales executives' eagerly explained their products and handed out their sometimes less-than-glossy information sheets. At the centre, Intel occupied a large glass-walled stand lavishly kitted out with plasma screens on the walls, free laptops and wi-fi hotspots, pseudo-Japanese rock garden, comfortable seating in 'breakout cubicles' and well-groomed product managers and sales managers. Their Centrino™ wireless ready processors and corporate wifi solutions were featured in TV advertisements playing on large plasma screens. These advertisements dazzled Roger. They showed a broadband world without cables, without complicated configuration tasks, and without the clutter and hassle of wire infrastructures. They meant freedom from points of attachment, network connections, dongles and plugs. Like many others, he thought to himself 'wireless networking is the best thing to happen to the Internet since the browser' (Boutin, 2003). He met Erica when he went to ask if he could have an Intel showbag full of promotional material. With Erica, a telecommunications marketing director responsible for a wireless broadband roll-out in hotels, airports, pubs, cafés and train stations throughout the UK, he ended up going to the exhibition café to talk about wireless security issues. That afternoon, together they managed to squeeze into the most popular seminar at the exhibition, 'The Typical Wireless Hacker and W-LAN Security.' Andrew Barry writes, 'rapid technical change may sometimes have to occur in order to anticipate and stifle invention by others' (Barry, 2001, 213). Sometimes, we could add, rapid technical change may occur in order to anticipate and stifle the very presence of others. Remarkably many images of wireless connectivity involve empty spaces (e.g. Toshiba ads, Intel Centrino™ ads), just as so many car ads show empty roads. What is affectively at stake in these figurations of network infrastructure? What encounter or unwanted intimacy needs to be controlled here? Conversely, what space is there to imagine other connectivities, ones that do not rest on the promise of unobstructed private access to everything everywhere? Can we treat connectivity as something that opens relations between people, that lifts the ban on others being present? What sustains relationships: what does not yet exist The affair has brought Pete and Roger's relationship to a crisis point. Pete complains that the trust and intimacy between them is defunct. He argues that in Roger’s affair with Erica, he firewalls public culture in favour of a narrow understanding of the public as consumers of bandwidth. Even though Roger is increasing connectivity through wireless networking, it is not with the purpose of augmenting public space. Indeed, Roger is working with Erica to filter public spaces through a corporate, proprietary platform. If wired infrastructure has been successfully transformed into an interlocking matrix of proprietary relations, the task is now 'full spectrum' coverage of the spaces available to wireless infrastructures. For his part, Roger no longer regards technology itself as the basis of their mutual attachment. He now sees the technology as a given, and as something on which new kinds of freedom and mobility could rely. Wireless infrastructures promise to unleash people from the wires and cables that trap them at their screens. It will bring connectivity to other places - departure lounge, hotel lobby, Starbucks, beside the pool or in the garden, throughout the campus, etc. It allows them to work and be entertained in places they've never tried before. They leave the consultation in conflict. There is no obvious solution to their problem. Pete sees techno-utopian visions of freedom dying front of his eyes (Lessing, 2003), and is dealing with that by trying to move lower into the infrastructure. From his perspective, the technology is not a given but something whose conjunctions with other objects, activities, groups, figures and spaces cannot be left to chance. Roger too regrets the death of techno-utopian visions, but rejects the expectation that he should bail out the activist communities by giving public access to infrastructure. We can fall in love with a technology imagining that we create a relationship on a blank canvas. None of us have a clean attachment to technological media or infrastructures. Earlier relationships, other media, other practices and politics indelibly stain and sustain present ones. They often repeat older imaginings of connectivity and collectivity. The problem of the infrastructural-political centres on how to identify the object of attachment or identification. ''Incorporation into collectivities which determines our individuality involves affective imitation - dynamic movements of emotional identification and appropriation.” (Gatens & Lloyd, 1999, 77). Not so long ago, it may have been possible to imagine infrastructure as part of the fabric of collective reciprocity (along with housing, health, justice and education). Individuality as a citizen, spectator, commuter, traveller, resident, consumer, worker, student, child or immigrant was underpinned by infrastructural access. In many places, infrastructure no longer looks like a space of reciprocity, a space without negativity. Hence, attachment to infrastructure, the indispensable condition for a politics of infrastructure becomes contested. The link we might want to add to infrastructural imaginings concerns the very possibility of the infrastructural-political. Contestation of the collective mode of existence of infrastructure, this tenuous and still fragile fibre, is a promising development. Works Cited Appadurai, Arjun, Modernity at large: cultural dimensions of globalization, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, 1996 Balibar, Etienne Spinoza and politics London, Verso, 1998. Barry, Andrew Political Machines. Governing Technological Society, Continuum Press, London & New York, 2001 Boutin, Paul 'Wi-Fi for Dummies. You want a home wireless network, but you're afraid it won't work. Here's how to do it right', <http://slate.msn.com/id/2084046/>, accessed June 9, 2003 Gatens, Moira & Lloyd, Genevieve Collective Imaginings. Spinoza, past and present Routledge, London & New York 1999 Gerritzen, Mieke & Lovink, Geert, Mobile Minded, BIS Publishers, Amsterdam, 2002 Haraway, Donna J. 1997 Modest_Witness@Second_Millennium. FemaleMan©_Meets_OncoMouse™ Feminism and Technoscience, (Routledge, New York & London). Lovink, Geert, 'Hi-Low: The Bandwidth Dilemma, Or Internet Stagnation after Dotcom Mania' Dark Fiber. Tracking Critical Internet Culture, MIT Press, 2003 Orbach, Susie, The Impossibility of Sex, Penguin Books, 2000 Links http://picopeer.net/wiki/ http://slate.msn.com/id/2084046/ http://www.wlanevent.com/home/default.asp Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Mackenzie, Adrian. "The Infrastructural-Political" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0308/05-infrastructural.php>. APA Style Mackenzie, A. (2003, Aug 26). The Infrastructural-Political. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6,< http://www.media-culture.org.au/0308/05-infrastructural.php>

The past two decades have seen the publication of at least half a dozen books that consider the part that fairs, circuses, sideshows and freakshows play in the continuing cultural labour to define, categorise and control the human body, including Robert Bogdan’s Freakshow, Rosemarie Garland-Thomson’s Extraordinary Bodies, and her edited collection Freakery, and Rachel Adams’s Sideshow USA. These writers cast the freakshow as a theatre of culture, worthy of critical attention precisely because of the ways in which it has provided a popular forum for staging, solidifying and transforming ideas about the body and bodily difference, and because of its prominence in the project of modernity (Garland-Thomson “From Wonder to Error” 2-13). They point to the theatrical mechanisms by which the freakshow maps cultural anxieties about corporeal difference across ‘suitable’ bodies. For, as Bogdan (3) says, being a freak is far more than a fact of biology. The freak personae that populate the Western cultural imaginary—the fat lady, the bearded lady, the hermaphrodite and the geek—can only be produced by a performative isolation, manipulation and exaggeration of the peculiar characteristics of particular human bodies. These peculiarities have to be made explicit, in Rebecca Schneider’s (1) terms; the horror-inducing tropes of the savage, the bestial and the monstrous have to be cast across supposedly suitable and compliant flesh. The scopic mechanisms of the freakshow as a theatre, as a cabinet of corporeal curiosities in which spectators are excited, amazed and edified by the spectacle of the extraordinary body, thus support the specific forms of seeing and looking by which freak bodies are produced. It would, however, be a mistake to suggest that the titillating threat of this face-to-face encounter with the Levinasian other fully destabilises the space between signifier and signified, between the specific body and the symbolic framework in which it sits. In a somewhat paradoxical cultural manoeuvre, the ableist, sexist and racist symbolic frameworks of the freakshow unfold according to what Deleuze and Guattari (178) would call a logic of sameness. The roles, relationships and representational mechanisms of the freakshow—including the ‘talkers’ that frame the spectator’s engagement with the extraordinary body of the freak—in fact function to delineate “degrees of deviance” (178) or difference from an illusory bodily norm. So configured, the monstrous corporeality of the freak is also monstrously familiar, and is made more so by the freak spectacle’s frequent emphasis on the ways in which non-normative bodies accommodate basic functions such as grooming and eating. In such incarnations, the scenography and iconography of the freakshow in fact draws spectators into performative (mis)recognitions that manage the difference of other bodies by positioning them along a continuum that confirms the stability of the symbolic order, and the centrality of the able, white, male self in this symbolic order. Singular, specific, extraordinary bodies are subject to what might, in a Levinasian paradigm, be called the violence of categorisation and comprehension (“Is Ontology Fundamental?” 9). The circumstances of the encounter reduce the radical, unreadable difference of the other, transporting them “into the horizon of knowledge” (“Transcendence and Height” 12), and transforming them into something that serves the dominant cultural logic. In this sense, Petra Kuppers suggests, “the psychic effects of the freak spectacle have destabilizing effects, assaulting the boundaries of firm knowledge about self, but only to strengthen them again in cathartic effect” (45). By casting traits they abhor across the freak body (Garland-Thomson Extraordinary Bodies 55-56), spectators become complicit in this abhorrence; comforted, cajoled and strangely pleasured by a sense of distance from what they desire not to be. The subversive potential of the prodigious body evaporates (Garland-Thomson “From Wonder to Error” 3; Extraordinary Bodies 78). An evaporation more fully effected, writers on the freakshow explain, as the discursive construct of the freak was drawn into the sphere of medical spectacle in the late nineteenth century. As the symbolic framework for understanding disabled bodies ‘advances’ from the freak, the monster and the mutant to the medical specimen (Garland-Thomson “From Wonder to Error” 13; Extraordinary Bodies 70, 78-80; Synder and Mitchell 370-373; Stephens 492), the cultural trajectory away from extraordinary bodies with the capacity to expand the classes and categories of the human is complete. The medical profession finally fulfils the cultural compulsion to abstract peculiar bodily characteristics into symptoms, and, as Foucault says in The Birth of the Clinic, these symptoms become surveillable, and controllable, within an objective schema of human biology. Physical differences and idiosyncrasies are “enclosed within the singularity of the patient, in that region of ‘subjective symptoms’ that—for the doctor—defines not only the mode of knowledge, but the world of objects to be known” (xi). The freak body becomes no more than an example of human misfortune, to be examined, categorised and cared for by medical experts behind closed doors, and the freakshow fades from the stage of popular culture (Garland-Thomson Extraordinary Bodies 70). There can, of course, be no denying the need to protect people with disabilities from exploitation at the service of a cultural fetish that enacts a compulsion to define and control bodily difference. However, recent debates in disability, cultural and performance studies have been characterised by the desire to reconsider the freakshow as a site for contesting some of the cultural logics it enacts. Theorists like Synder and Mitchell argue that medical discourse “disarms the [disabled] body of its volatile potency” (378), in the process denying people with disabilities a potentially interesting site to contest the cultural logics by which their bodies are defined. The debate begins with Bogdan’s discussion of the ways in which well-meaning disability activists may, in their desire to protect people with disabilities from exploitative practices and producers, have overlooked the fact that freakshows provided people with disabilities a degree of independence and freedom otherwise impossible (280-81). After all, as disabled performer Mat Fraser says in his documentary Born Freak, The Victorian marvels found fame and some fortune, and this actually raised the visibility, even the acceptability, of disabled people in general during a time when you could be attacked on the streets just for looking different. These disabled performers found independence and commanded respect.… If I had been born a hundred years ago, given the alternatives of—what? living the life of a village monster or idiot or being poked or prodded for cataloguing by medical types—there’s no doubt about it, I would have wanted to be in show business. (Born Freak) This question of agency extends to discussion of whether disabled performers like Fraser can, by consciously appropriating the figures, symbols and scenography of the freakshow, start to deconstruct the mechanisms by which this contested sphere of cultural practice has historically defined them, confronting spectators with their own complicity in the construction of the freak. In her analysis of Coney Island’s Sideshows by the Seashore, Elizabeth Stephens reflects on this contemporary sideshow’s capacity to reclaim the political currency of the freak. For Stephens, sideshows are sites in which norms about the body, its limits and capabilities, are theatricalized and transformed into spectacle, but, in which, for this very reason, they can also be contested. Non-normative bodies are not simply exhibited or put on display on the sideshow stage, but are rather performed as the unstable—indeed, destabilising—product of the dynamic interrelationship between performer, audience and theatrical space. (486) Theorists like Stephens (487) point to disabled performers who manipulate the scopic and discursive mechanisms of the sideshow, street performance and circus, setting them against more or less personal accounts of the way their bodies have historically been seen, to disrupt the modes of subjection the freak spectacle makes possible and precipitate a crisis in prescribed categories of meaning. Stephens (485-498) writes of Mat Fraser, who reperformed the historical personal of the short-armed Sealo the Sealboy, and Jennifer Miller, who reperformed the persona of Zenobia the bearded lady, at Sideshows by the Seashore. Sharon Mazer (257-276) writes of Katy Dierlam, who donned a Dolly Dimples babydoll dress to reperform the clichéd fat lady figure Helon Melon, again at Sideshows by the Seashore, counterposing Melon’s monstrous obesity with comments affirming her body’s potent humanity, and quotes from feminist scholars and artists such as Suzy Orbach, Karen Finley and Annie Sprinkle. Sharon Synder and David Mitchell (383) write of Mary Duffy, who reperforms the armless figure of the Venus de Milo. These practices constitute performative interventions into the cultural sphere, aligned with a broader set of contemporary performance practices which contest the symbolic frameworks by which racial and gender characteristics are displayed on the popular stage in similar ways. Their confrontational performance strategies recall, for instance, the work of American performance artist Guillermo Gómez-Peña, who reappropriates colonial and pop cultural figurations of the racialised body in works like Two Undiscovered Amerindians Visit…, in which he and Coco Fusco cast themselves as two caged savages. In such works, Gómez-Peña and his collaborators use parallel performance strategies to engage the “spectacle of the Other-as-freak” (297). “The idea is to exaggerate the features of fear and desire in the Anglo imagination and ‘spectacularize’ our ‘extreme identities’, so to speak, with the clear understanding that these identities have been invented by the surgery of the global media” (297) Gómez-Peña says. These remobilisations of the monstrous operate within the paradigm of the explicit, a term Schneider coined a decade ago to describe the performance art practices of women who write the animalised, sexualised characteristics with which they are symbolically aligned across their own corporeally ‘suitable’ bodies, replaying their culturally assigned identities “with a voluble, ‘in your face’ vengeance” (100), “a literal vengeance” (109). Such practices reclaim the destablising potential of the freak spectacle, collapsing, complicating or exploding the space between signifier and signified to show that the freak is a discursive construct (22-23), and thus for Schneider, following Benjamin, threatening the whole symbolic system with collapse (2, 6). By positioning their bodies as a ground that manifestly fails to ground the reality they represent, these performers play with the idea that the reality of the freak is really just part of the order of representation. There is nothing behind it, nothing beyond it, nothing up the magician’s sleeve—identity is but a sideshow hall of mirrors in which the ‘blow off’ is always a big disappointment. Bodies marked by disability are not commodified, or even clearly visible, in the Western capitalist scopic economy in the same way as Schneider’s women performers. Nevertheless, disabled performers still use related strategies to reclaim a space for what Schneider calls a postmodern politics of transgression (4), exposing “the sedimented layers of signification themselves” (21), rather than establishing “an originary, true or redemptive body” (21) beneath. The contestational logic of these modes of practice notwithstanding, Stephens (486) notes that performers still typically cite a certain ambivalence about their potential. There are, after all, specific risks for people with disabilities working in this paradigm that are not fully drawn out in the broader debate about critical reappropriation of racist and sexist imagery in performance art. Mobilisations of the freak persona are complicated by the performer’s own corporeal ‘suitability’ to that persona, by the familiar theatrical mechanisms of recognition and reception (which can remain undertheorised in meta-level considerations of the political currency of the freakshow in disability and cultural—rather than performance—studies), and by a dominant cultural discourse that insists on configuring disability as an individual problem detached from the broader sphere of identity politics (Sandahl 598-99). In other words, the territory that still needs to be addressed in this emergent field of practice is the ethics of reception, and the risk of spectatorial (mis)recognitions that reduce the political potency of the freak spectacle. The main risk, of course, is that mobilisations of the freak persona may still be read by spectators as part of the phenomenon they are trying to challenge, the critical counterpositions failing to register, or failing to disrupt fully the familiar scopic and discursive framework. More problematically, the counterpositions themselves may be reduced by spectators to a rhetorical device that distances them from the corporeal reality of the encounter with the other, enabling them to interpret or explain the experience of disability as a personal experience by which an individual comes to accommodate their problems. Whilst the human desire to construct narrative and psychological contexts for traumatic experience cannot be denied, Carrie Sandahl (583) notes that there is a risk that the encounter with the disabled body will be interpreted as part of the broader phenomenon Synder and Mitchell describe in Narrative Prosthesis, in which disability is little more than a metaphor for the problems people have to get past in life. In this interpretative paradigm, disability enters a discursive and theoretical terrain that fails to engage fully the lived experience of the other. Perhaps most problematically, mobilisations of the freak persona may be read as one more manifestation of the distinctively postmodern desire to break free from the constraints of culturally condoned identity categories. This desire finds expression in the increasingly prevalent cultural phenomenon of voluntary enfreakment, in which people voluntarily differentiate, or queer their own experience of self. As Fraser says when he finds out that a company of able-bodied freaks is competing with him for audiences at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, “[t]he irony is, these days, everyone is trying to get in on our act” (Born Freak). In a brave new world where everybody wants to be a freak, activist artists “must be watchful”, Gómez-Peña warns, “for we can easily get lost in the funhouse of virtual mirrors, epistemological inversions, and distorted perceptions” (288). The reclamation of disability as a positive metaphor for a more dispersed set of human differences in the spectacle of daily life (287-98), and in theoretical figurations of feminist philosophy that favour the grotesque, the monstrous and the mechanical (Haraway Simians, Cyborgs and Women; Braidotti Nomadic Subjects), raises questions for Garland-Thomson (“Integrating Disability, Transforming Feminist Theory” 9) and Sandahl (581-83). If “disability serves as a master trope for difference,” Sandahl says, then anybody can adopt it “…to serve as a metaphor expressing their own outsider status, alienation and alterity, not necessarily the social, economic and political concerns of actual disabled people” (583). The work of disabled performers can disappear into a wider sphere of self-differentiated identities, which threatens to withdraw ‘disability’ as a politically useful category around which a distinctive group of people can generate an activist politics. To negotiate these risks, disabled performers need to work somewhere between a specific, minoritarian politics and a universal, majoritarian politics, as Sedgwick describes in Epistemology of the Closet (91; cf. Garland-Thompson “Integrating Disability, Transforming Feminist Theory” 5; cf. Stephens 493). Performers need to make their experience of otherness explicit, so that their corporeal specificity is not abstracted into a symbolic system that serves the dominant cultural logic. Performers need to contextualise this experience in social terms, so that it is not isolated from the sphere of identity politics. But performers cannot always afford to allow the freak persona to become one more manifestation of the myriad idiosyncratic identities that circulate in the postmodern popular imaginary. It is by negotiating these risks that performers encourage spectators to experience—if only fleetingly, and provisionally—a relationship to the other that is characterised not by generalisation, domestication and containment (Levinas “Substitution” 80, 88), but by respect for the other’s radical alterity, by vulnerability, and, in Derrida’s reformation of Levinasian ethics, by a singular, reciprocal and undecidable responsibility towards the other (Derrida 60-70). This is what Levinas would call an ethical relationship, in which the other exists, but as an excess, a class of being that can be recognised but never seized by comprehension (“Is Ontology Fundamental?” 7, “Transcendence and Height” 17), or sublimated as a category of, or complement to, the same (13, “Meaning and Sense” 51). Mat Fraser’s mobilisation of Sealo the Sealboy is one of the most engaging examples of the way disabled performers negotiate the complexities of this terrain. On his website, Fraser says he has always been aware of the power of confrontational presentations of his own body, and has found live forms that blur the boundaries between freakshow, sideshow and conventional theatre the best forums for “the more brutal and confrontational aspect of my investigation into disability’s difficult interface with mainstream cultural concerns” (MatFraser.co.uk). Fraser’s appropriation of Sealo was born of a fascination with the historical figure of Stanley Berent. “Stanley Berent was an American freakshow entertainer from the 1940s who looked like me,” Fraser says. “He had phocomelia. That’s the medical term for my condition. It literally means seal-like limbs. Berent’s stage name was Sealo the Sealboy” (Born Freak). Fraser first restaged Sealo after a challenge from Dick Zigun, founder of the modern Sideshows by the Seashore. He restaged Berant’s act, focused on Berant’s ability to do basic things like shaving and sawing wood with his deformed hands, for the sideshow’s audiences. While Fraser had fun playing the character on stage, he says he felt a particular discomfort playing the character on the bally platform used to pull punters into the sideshow from the street outside. “There is no powerful dynamic there,” Fraser laments. “It’s just ‘come look at the freak’” (Born Freak). Accordingly, after a season at Sideshows by the Seashore, Fraser readapted the experience as a stage play, Sealboy: Freak, in which Sealo is counterposed with the character Tam, “a modern disabled actor struggling to be seen as more than a freak” (Born Freak). This shift in the theatrical mechanisms by which he stages the freak gives Fraser the power to draw contemporary, politically correct spectators at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival into the position of sideshow gawkers, confronting them with their own fascination with his body. A potent example is a post-audition scene, in which Tam says I read this book once that said that the mainstream will only see a disabled performer in the same way they view a performing seal. Very clever, but just mimicry. No. No it can’t be like that anymore. We’ve all moved on. People are no longer more fascinated by how I do things, rather than what I say. I am an actor, not a fucking freak. (Born Freak) But, as Tam says this, he rolls a joint, and spectators are indeed wrapped up in how he does it, hardly attending to what he says. What is interesting about Fraser’s engagement with Sealo in Sealboy: Freak is the way he works with a complicated—even contradictory—range of presentational strategies. Fraser’s performance becomes explicit, expositional and estranging by turns. At times, he collapses his own identity into that of the freak, the figure so stark, so recognisable, so much more harshly drawn than its real-life referent, that it becomes a simulacrum (cf. Baudrillard 253-282), exceeding and escaping the complications of the human corporeality beneath it. Fraser allows spectators to inhabit the horror, and the humour, his disabled identity has historically provoked, reengaging the reactions they hide in everyday life. And, perhaps, if they are an educated audience at the Fringe, applauding themselves for their own ability to comprehend the freak, and the crudity of sideshow display. However, self-congratulatory comprehension of the freak persona is interrupted by the discomforting encounter with Tam, suspending—if only provisionally—spectators’ ability to reconcile this reaction with their credentials as a politically correct audience. What a closer look at mobilisations of the freak in performances such as Fraser’s demonstrates is that manipulating the theatrical mechanisms of the stage, and their potential to rapidly restructure engagement with the extraordinary body, enables performers to negotiate the risk of (mis)recognition embedded in the face-to-face encounter between self and spectator. So configured, the stage can become a site for contesting the cultural logic by which the disabled body has historically been defined. It can challenge spectators to experience—if fleetingly—the uncertainties of the face-to-face encounter with the extraordinary body, acknowledging this body’s specificity, without immediately being able to abstract, domesticate or abdicate responsibility for it—or abdicate responsibility for their own reaction to it. Whilst spectators’ willingness to reflect further on their complicity in the construction of the other remains an open and individual question, these theatrical manipulations can at least increase the chance that the cathartic effect of the encounter with the so-called freak will be disrupted or deferred. References Adams, Rachel. Sideshow USA: Freaks and the American Cultural Imagination. Chicago, IL: University of Chigaco Press, 2001. Baudrillard, Jean. “The Precision of Simulacra”. Art After Modernism: Rethinking Representation. Ed. Brian Wallis. Boston, MA: David R. Godine, 1984, 253-282. Born Freak. Dir. Paul Sapin. Written Paul Sapin and Mat Fraser. 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Acknowledgements An earlier version of this paper was presented at “Extreme States: Issues of Scale—Political, Performative, Emotional”, the Australasian Association for Drama Theatre and Performance Studies Annual Conference 2007.