Preface
I first read The Awakening---Kate Chopin’s
masterpiece---six years ago in 1996. I recall now that what made
my reading of The Awakening a different experience from the
reading of other texts was in the response it elicited: that is,
there are those texts one reads and understands and, then, there
are those texts---like Chopin’s novella---that one reads,
understands, and yet beyond that knowledge, somehow feels very
powerfully. Indeed, the magic and mystery of The Awakening
is that it reads as much like poetry as it does as narrative. And,
poets attempt to explain the unexplainable, the silence, the
voicelessness, the disconnectedness, and the displacement that
seeks to erase so very much of the story of our literary past.
There is, of course, the need for intellectual and literary
understanding. Human experience teaches us that literature, like
life, is not vacuous: diverse texts are connected much more than
they may seem in a literary community of difference. Diverse
literature exists in society for better or worse. Moreover,
interpretation of texts must acknowledge differences in the
universal condition that particular texts possess a uniqueness and
individuality that enriches literature.
But the struggle by marginalized authors, like Kate Chopin, to
come out of the closet, to give voice to the silent, to empower
the disconnected and displaced readers and writers alike, requires
that any author anywhere who suffers from the oppression cast upon
their texts by the dominant literary slant must necessarily move
beyond mere literary understanding. Those writers who seek freedom
and authenticity in literature cannot hide behind a façade of
intellectual quietism and conservative reaction in their refusal
to recognize the diversity of voices that together comprise the
literary bulwark of western civilization. Rather,
progressive thinkers of the sort Kate Chopin represents must
embrace literary understanding while adopting an analytic attitude
of liberal acceptance and deviant interpretation that makes
possible a literary environment free of taboo, discrimination, and
reaction.
In spite of the reaction of conservative authors against, as
well as the extremist intellectual violence directed towards,
so-called minority, or regional, texts, progressive authors need
to challenge the homogenization of the literary establishment by
actively reading and writing to change the “facts” of the
literary landscape. By deploying new texts and creating more
diverse literary spaces within which marginalized voices may
flourish, diverse texts can make a difference where dominant texts
cannot free their discourse to do likewise.
Introduction
The purpose of this essay is to perform a deviant analysis of
Kate Chopin’s The Awakening within an analytical
framework of existential character analysis and social
scientific/behavioral research on the “coming out” process as
it traditionally has been applied only to gay men and lesbians.
Narrowly, the goal of the paper is twofold: first, to scrutinize
Chopin’s heroine, Edna Pontellier, from an existential
perspective to determine whether or not she is an authentic,
believable, self-directed character. The second objective is to
assess whether or not Chopin’s narrative fits the developmental
model of the coming out process and, therefore, may be considered
an archetypal coming out story that applies to women who are not
gay or lesbian. This will be accomplished by explicating the
developmental stages of the coming out process and then looking
for textual evidence from The Awakening that will either
confirm or dismiss Chopin’s work as some type of coming out
story.
The idea of coming out as a form of storytelling has been
strictly viewed as a discourse nearly exclusively associated with
and belonging to gay men and lesbians. The coming out process
involves the acquisition of a homosexual, or minority, self- and
social-identity. But what if coming out were to be more broadly
defined as not just applicable to gay men and lesbians, but to
other sexual minorities, perhaps women, or even all marginalized
people, as well? That is, does the coming out process as a form of
storytelling cut across gender, sexual, and other marginalized
categories in a way that points to a more universal application?
Although the question of universality is beyond the limited scope
of this essay, the implications seem clear: such an interpretation
deviates from the norm and destabilizes dominant modes of
analyzing texts. Consequently, coming out as storytelling
represents a subversive discourse that undercuts the established
methods of textual analysis.
I
Textual and interpretive domination and hegemony occur within a
broader cultural context that is defined by the dominant social
group that constructs and controls the literary canon and literary
criticism within any civilization. The western literary
establishment forms a power structure perhaps best described as
WHITE - MALE - HETEROSEXUAL. The literary establishment, its
adherents, and henchmen, have normalized texts and their
interpretation through the construction of cultural institutions
that stigmatize and devalue literature that fails to conform, or
is perceived as threatening, to the dominant, traditional western
social equation for literary power: white + male + heterosexual =
literary canon. As Audre Lorde writes in Sister Outsider,
“Age, Race, Class, and Sex”:
Somewhere, on the edge of consciousness, there is what I call
a mythical norm, which each one of us within our hearts
knows “that is not me.” In america, this norm is usually
defined as white, thin, male, young, heterosexual, christian,
and financially secure. It is with this mythical norm that the
trappings of power reside within this society. Those of us who
stand outside that power often identify one way in which we are
different, and we assume that to be the primary cause of all
oppression, forgetting other distortions around difference some
of which we ourselves may be practising…There is a pretense to
a homogeneity of experience…that does not in fact exist. (Lorde,
116)
Or, as Ann Kaplan notes in “Is the Gaze Male?”:
Feminist…critics were the first to object to this
prevailing critical approach, largely because of the general
developments taking place in…theory at the beginning of the
1970s. They noted the lack of awareness about the way images are
constructed through the mechanism of whatever artistic practise
is involved: representations, they pointed out, are mediations,
embedded through the art form in the dominant ideology….In
patriarchal structures, thus, woman is located as other [enigma,
mystery], and is thereby viewed as outside of [male] language. (Kaplan,
230)
Unfortunately, the danger of producing a text that, as Kaplan
would say, projects a gaze that is not male, or that is otherwise
juxtaposed against the dominant literary power structure as
sketched by Lorde, is the violent suppression and silencing of
such deviant discourse. It is precisely such violent suppression
that greeted the publication of Kate Chopin’s The Awakening
and marked the first half century of the history of that book. As
Per Seyersted records in his acclaimed critical biography of
Chopin, not insignificantly published in 1969, nearly seventy
years after The Awakening was first written:
Mrs. Chopin had the vision, the originality and independence,
and the sense of artistic form which are needed to give us the
great novel. She also had remarkable courage. She hid her
ambition and her goal somewhat, knowing that men do not readily
accept…“superiority” in a progressive woman. But she was
unable to keep her inclinations in check, and the tensions she
felt…and the urges of the female artist, resulted in unheard
of illustrations of woman’s spiritual and sensuous
self-assertion. No wonder she was shipwrecked…with her cargo
of iconoclastic views.
II
Caged voices are suppressed exactly because they challenge and
deviate from the established norm. Marginal texts can surface and
effuse the literary world only when individual texts join together
with other diverse discourse in a community of difference.
Although bravery is surely not the same as wisdom, and in some
cases perhaps not even desirable as wisdom, Chopin’s authorial
courage exemplifies the type of deviant discourse---about female
sensuality and self-fulfillment---that creates new textual spaces
while simultaneously redefining and redrawing the boundaries of
literary acceptance and aesthetic sensibility. It is true that
Chopin sacrificed her life and work for publishing The
Awakening in 1899, but her defiant discourse expanded the
community of difference, rupturing the dominant discourse, and
opening new literary spaces unimaginable at the turn of the
century.
As Ruth Iskin remarks in “Through the Peephole: Toward a
Lesbian Sensibility in Art”:
The transition we see in…artists’ environments is not
from no context to context, but rather from a private to a
public context. The 19th century painter Rosa Bonheur, for
example, created a private context for herself….The private
rather than the public context has not only been the prevailing
tradition of…[a marginalized] lifestyle, for obvious reasons,
but also the lot of women’s culture and a tradition of women’s
communication in general. (Raven and Iskin,
258-259)
In America, literary space has been dehumanized by dividing it
into two supposedly distinct spheres: public and private. These
literary binarisms, as expressed, for example, by Eve Kosofsky
Sedgwick in relation to homophobic discourse, may be further
abstracted, as illustrated in
Figure 1
, to apply to the
dominant literary establishment, on the one hand, and to deviant
literary groups, on the other. The implications of this literary
divide results in a deep fissure of no small consequence. Certain
authors and texts are “allowed” in public discourse, other
voices are relegated to the closet of private literary space.
Invisibility and silence, thus, become weapons to banish specific
writers and texts into the proverbial closet. Indeed, as Haig
Bosmajian has observed:
While names, words, and language can be used to inspire us,
to motivate us to humane acts, to liberate us, they can also be
used to dehumanize human beings and to “justify” their
suppression and even their extermination. It is not a great step
from coercive suppression…to…extermination…nor is it a
large step from defining a people as non-human or sub-human to
their subjugation or annihilation. One of the first acts of an
oppressor is to redefine the “enemy” so they will be looked
upon as creatures warranting separation, suppression, and even
eradication. (Bosmajian, Introduction)
Chopin’s discourse on female sensuality and
independence violated the literary norm and subverted dominant
literary discourse. She was what Arlene Raven would call “…an
exemplary symbol---the woman who takes risks, who dares to be a
creator in new territory, who does not follow rules, who
declares herself the source of her artistic creation.” (Raven
and Iskin, 258) But even more importantly, Chopin “…likewise
prefigure[s] what many women would wish to become…strong,
powerfully creative, and effective in the world.” (Raven
and Iskin, 258) Moreover, and even more subversive to
dominant literary norms (see
Figure 2
), was The Awakening’s
role as “…an active manifestation of the transformation of
personal identity, social relations, political analysis, and
creative thought which has long been among the aspirations of
revolutionary thinkers.” (Raven and Iskin, 258) Subsequently, Chopin’s masterpiece as deviant manifesto
signified “…the possibility of acknowledging radical
transformation of self through revolutionary social practice” (Raven
and Iskin, 258)
Sensuous and self-assertive women, or authors who
write about such women, particularly in the late nineteenth- and
early twentieth-centuries, were silenced because they deviated
from the established literary norms. Banishment of marginalized
texts, like The Awakening, to the closet of literary
oblivion bolsters the hegemonic discourse that seeks to oppress
diverse voices. Haig Bosmajian notes that:
…sexist language has allowed men to define
who and what a woman [and man] is and must be. Labels like…
‘queers’ and ‘obscene degenerates’ were applied
indiscriminately to students who protested the war in Vietnam or
denounced injustices in the United States. Are such people to be
listened to? Consulted? Argued with? Obviously not! One does not
listen to, much less talk to…sensualists and queers. One only
punishes them or, as Spiro Agnew said in one of his 1970
speeches, there are some dissenters who should be separated ‘from
our society with no more regret than we should feel over
discarding rotten apples.’ (Bosmajian, 7)
In order to liberate literature from the oppression of the
dominant discourse, marginalized authors need necessarily write
deviant texts that challenge the cultural barriers that reinforce
literary marginalization (see
Figure 3
). The characters they
create and the aesthetic they express must pass existential muster
and offer literary models who have come out of the literary
closet.
III
Figure 4
lists the general principles of existentialism. These
principles can be used to analyze the authenticity, believability,
and freedom of Edna Pontellier. This analysis is important because
if Edna is not genuine, if she is an unbelievable character, and
if she is not free, then the subsequent analysis of The
Awakening as coming out story would appear to be fruitless and
insignificant. If, however, Edna Pontellier is a fully human
heroine, then the novella’ development as a coming out story
becomes a more compelling deviant, and subversive analysis. If
coming out as storytelling is only applicable to gay and lesbian
literature, it would seem to offer no link to other marginalized
literary groups. But if coming out as storytelling provides
a more widely applicable analytic model, then it may very well
link gay and lesbian literature to feminist, African American,
Latina/o, and other deviant texts, and provide a bridge that
unifies voices separated and suppressed by the dominant literary
establishment. When joined in a community of literary differences,
coming out as storytelling may break loose from, or at least wear
(stare?) down, the dominant hierarchical literary gaze and unify
deviant texts in an equality of deviant gazes. By coming out of
discursive closets, marginalized texts may displace dominant
literary norms and free themselves from the existentially
questionable ontological category of other.
What…has to happen is that we move beyond
long-held cultural and linguistic patterns of oppositions:
male/female (as these terms currently signify);
dominant/submissive; active/passive; nature/civilization;
order/chaos; matriarchal/patriarchal. If rigidly defined…differences
have been constructed around fear of the other, we need to think
about ways of transcending a polarity that has only brought us
all pain. (Kaplan, 240)
In the late nineteenth-century, Edna Pontellier was confronted
by a world where traditional values and moral codes were abandoned
or called into question. In 1800, for example, American women had
no right to sue for divorce. By 1900, two-thirds of American
divorce actions were brought by women. In 1860, the average woman
in the United States bore six to eight children in her lifetime to
sustain what was still a largely agrarian economy. By 1900, with
the near completion of American industrialization, bringing with
it a consumer economy, the number of children (3.5) women bore on
average had dropped in at least half. In 1880, one in twenty-one
U.S. marriages ended in divorce. Just two decades later, in 1900,
the American divorce ratio was up to a staggering one in twelve. (Carson,
2000)
Sexuality and gender roles experienced vast change as well.
Before roughly 1875, the modern categories of sex, gender, and
sexual orientation did not exist as they signify today. The
commodification, medicalization, criminalization, and
categorization of sex, gender, and sexual orientation, however,
was very nearly complete by 1900. With the onslaught of industrial
capitalism, the human body was transformed into a sexual commodity
that was to be used, and in some cases sold, for pleasure as much
as for pro-creation. But even as the institution of marriage, with
its inherent power structures and control mechanisms, was
disintegrating, the patriarchal establishment would not allow its
power to be undercut. The problem of modernism could be solved by
extending male dominance and oppression into new economic
institutions and relationships: the professionalization of
traditionally female roles (e.g. midwifery replaced by the medical
profession) forced work previously performed by women to evolve
into masculine jobs that produced new means of coercion and
control. (Carson, 2000)
With the professionalization of the legal system, men would,
significantly, control and define the legal vocabulary that
privileged certain forms of sex and sexual orientation over
others, while criminalizing those sexual forms that deviated from
the new legal standards. The normalization of male pro-creative
heterosexuality and female submissiveness was now fait accompli.
(Carson, 2000)
The existential crisis facing Edna Pontellier was how to behave
and cope in a society where traditional values were in disarray,
where the individual is burdened and threatened by indifferent
technologies, impersonal bureaucracies, and feelings of alienation
and anxiety manufactured by alien industries? If there is no
meaning in the universe, if God is dead, and truths are relevant,
then what meaning was Edna Pontellier to give to her life? (Chase,
et. al., 813-814; Gilbert, 1-176)
Edna chose to define her own existence because the institution
of marriage, as represented in the opening of the novel by the
caged ornamental bird, was empty of meaning and feeling. Mr.
Pontellier was more absorbed in the latest stock quotes than he
was with the spiritual, sensual aspects of his convenient marriage
to Edna. Her role was to consume, not create, to display, not
discover, to obey, not rebel. But the moral and spiritual values
that would condemn a woman to such a colorless fate were devoid of
meaning: they could not define Mrs. Pontellier’s essence. (Chase,
et. al., 813-814; Gilbert 1-176)
Although rationalism would suggest that the appropriate and
comfortable role for women is to be their husband’s wife, reason
alone is an inadequate guide for living. Edna needed to
participate fully in life and experience existence actively,
directly, and passionately. Indeed, if reason were to have any
bearing on individual lives, thought must not be simply abstract
speculation. Rather, thinking and creating and discovering must
have some bearing on life: it must be translated into actions,
deeds, experiences, and human behavior. When swimming in the Gulf
off Grand Isle, Edna Pontellier experienced the general condition
that ultimately people are alone in a universe that is indifferent
to human desires, expectations, needs, and passions. Edna’s
awareness of this elementary fact of existence while breaking the
surface of the deep water on a moonlit night evoked an
overwhelming sense of freedom. (Chase, et. al,
813-814; Gilbert, 1-176)
It is absurd for Edna to imagine that her life is confined
within the musty, long forgotten vows of a loveless marriage.
There was no longer any purpose for her presence in the marriage.
Mr. Pontellier was either unwilling to fulfill her need for
sensuality or incapable of quenching her desire for passion. In
reflecting on the larger scheme of things, compared with the long
duration of time that preceded and will follow Edna Pontellier’s
marriage, liberation, and death, the infinitesimal duration of her
own existence must surely have seemed trivial and inexplicable. (Chase,
et. al, 813-814; Gilbert, 1-176)
The realization of her radical freedom to create her own
essence and meaning amidst the chaos of this world afforded Edna
the opportunity, however short, of squarely facing the brute
conditions of human existence: that death is inevitable and
existence is purposeless and absurd. In doing so, Mrs. Pontellier---for
one brief moment---came out of the closet and gave meaning to her
life. It was in the act of freely choosing to leave her marriage
that Chopin’s heroine shaped an authentic, genuine existence. In
doing so Mrs. Pontellier demonstrated that she had the potential
to become more than she had been. (Chase, et. al.,
813-814; Gilbert, 1-176)
IV
Eli Coleman in “Developmental Stages of the Coming Out
Process” surveys current social scientific and behavioral
research and proposes a five stage model of the coming out process
[see
Figure 5
]. (Coleman, 32-39) He
identifies the following stages of the coming out process:
Pre-coming Out; Coming Out; Exploration; First Relationships; and,
Identity Integration. (Coleman, 32-39) The
pre-coming out stage is associated with feelings of alienation,
being alone and different, and low self-esteem. Moreover, as
Coleman notes, individuals in the pre-coming out stage often
employ the psychological defense mechanisms of denial, repression,
reaction formation, sublimation, and rationalization to prevent
the existential crisis that may occur when the individual, family,
and society confronts a deviant sexual orientation. (Coleman,
32-39)
Clearly, in the first several chapters of The Awakening,
Edna Pontellier appears to be in the pre-coming out phase of
self-identity development. In a broken marriage burdened with the
responsibility of children she may not have chose, but was
expected to bear, Mrs. Pontellier experiences an existential,
pre-conscious crisis:
Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went
into the next room. She soon came back and sat on the edge of
the bed, leaning her head against the pillow. She said nothing,
and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When
his cigar was smoked out he went to bed, and in half a minute he
was fast asleep. (Gilbert, 48)
Here, the very thought of another night in bed with her husband
induces anxiety in Edna as “…by that time she was thoroughly
awake. She began to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve
of her peignoir.” Although late at night and after a full
day in the sun at the beach, Edna is full of dread at the idea of
laying in bed with a symbol and instrument of the patriarchy that
stifled her fulfillment. (Gilbert, 48)
The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier’s
eyes that the damp sleeve of her peignoir no longer served to
dry them…Turning, she thrust her face, steaming and wet, into
the bend of her arm, and she went on crying there, not caring
any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms. She could not
have told why she was crying. Such experiences as the foregoing
were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before
to have weighed so much against the abundance of her husband’s
kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be tacit and
self-understood. (Gilbert, 49)
She goes on to express feelings of “indescribable oppression,
which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her
consciousness, [and] filled her whole being with a vague anguish.”
(Gilbert, 49) This “strange and unfamiliar”
longing to be free of the constraints of marriage “was like a
shadow, like a mist passing across her [soul]” (Gilbert,
49) Unknown, pre-conscious, like a dawning perception, a
queer feeling that something, alas, is wrong. Here, Mrs.
Pontellier is in the pre-coming out stage.
Coleman writes that the individual in the coming out stage is
signified by conscious and semi-conscious perceptions of oneself
as something other than what they are assumed to be or labeled as
being. In the case of Edna Pontellier, this dawning perception is
that she is an autonomous, self-defining agent; more than just the
significations that married life has cast upon her as mother,
spouse, and wife. Although she may not, perhaps, have a clear
understanding of this new authenticity as a self- directed human
being, there is awareness, acknowledgement, and the rudiments of a
more genuine self-identification. (Coleman, 33-34)
A certain light was beginning to dawn dimly
within her,--- The light which, showing the way, forbids
it.
At that early period it served but to bewilder
her. It moved her to dreams, to thoughtfulness, to the
shadowy anguish which had overcome her the midnight when she had
abandoned herself to tears.
In short, Mrs. Pontellier was beginning to
realize her position in the universe as a human being, and to
recognize her relations as an individual to the world within and
about her. This may seem like a ponderous weight to descend upon
the soul of a young woman of twenty-eight---perhaps more wisdom
than the Holy Ghost is usually pleased to vouchsafe to any
woman.
But the beginning of things, of a world
especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and
exceedingly disturbing. How few of us ever emerge from such
beginning! How many souls perish in its tumult!
The voice of the sea is seductive; never
ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to
wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in
mazes of inward contemplation.
The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The
touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft,
close embrace. (Gilbert, 57)
Conscious and semi-conscious thoughts of the absurdity of
existence, of radical human freedom, and the possibility of
creating one’s own essence are not the only signs characteristic
of the coming out stage. Coleman also observes that telling
others, or self-disclosure, and the need for external
validation is vital to coming out and healthy self-acceptance. (Coleman,
34) This critical need is accomplished by Edna Pontellier
in her coming out party, where she commences to abandon her
marriage and create her own world of possibility and
self-fulfillment.
Coleman notes that self-disclosure involves risk taking in that
the individual can never definitively know prior to the act of
disclosure the reaction of those to whom one comes out. These
risks---of rejection, ridicule, and hurt---are balanced against
the need for external validation. (Coleman, 34)
If the reactions to self-disclosure are positive, internalized
oppression may evaporate, self-esteem may improve, and the
existential crisis may begin to successfully resolve itself. If
the reactions are negative, however, oppressive notions may be
reinforced, sealing stereotypes in the mind, and planting the
seeds of self-loathing and self-hatred. (Coleman,
34-35)
Though Edna had spoken of the dinner as a very
grand affair, it was in truth a very small affair and very
select, in so much as the guests invited were few and were
selected with discrimination. (Gilbert, 142)
Perhaps realizing her own vulnerability, the risks of such an
announcement, and the fragility of her self-concept, Edna is very
careful in who she invites to her party. In spite of her careful
preparations and select invitations, the irony of Mrs. Pontellier’s
coming out party is that in the very moment she announces her
freedom to those closest to her, their presence only reminds her
of the oppressive social conditions that suppressed women during
the fin de siecle.
There was something in her attitude, in her
whole appearance when she leaned her head against the
high-backed chair and spread her arms, which suggested the regal
woman, the one who rules, who looks on, who stands alone.
But as she sat that there amid her guests, she
felt the old ennui overtaking her; the hopelessness which so
often assailed her, which came upon her like an obsession, like
something extraneous, independent of volition. It was something
which announced itself; a chill breath that seemed to issue from
some vast cavern wherein discords wailed. There came over her
the acute longing which always summoned into her spiritual
vision the presence of the beloved one, overpowering her at once
with a sense of the unattainable. (Gilbert, 145)
Coleman’s third stage, the exploration phase, is
characterized by experimenting with one’s new identity. This
stage provides an opportunity to honestly and openly interact with
others within the context of one’s new identity. Coleman
describes the events of this stage as a sort of “crashing out”:
the individual may exhibit signs of awkwardness during the
intensity of the exploration phase. Individuals in this stage are
occupied with developing interpersonal skills, a sense of personal
attractiveness; and sensual, sexual, and spiritual competence to
support their newly created self-identity. (Coleman,
35-37)
The exploration stage of Edna’s coming out process is best
exemplified in her relationship to Mademoiselle Reisz. Herself a
symbol of self-creation as musician, Reisz, who is not married,
and no less the wise for her singleness, becomes the knowing
confidante who advises as well as warns Edna of the perils of her
self-discovery and personal fulfillment.
“Do you know Mademoiselle Reisz?” she
asked irreverently.
“The pianist? I know her by sight. I’ve
heard her play.”
“She says queer things sometimes in a
bantering way that you
don’t notice at the time and you find
yourself thinking about
afterward.”
“For instance?”
“Well, for instance, when I left her to-day,
she put her arms around me and felt my shoulder blades, to see if
my wings were strong, she said. ‘The
bird that would soar above the level plain of
tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad
spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back
to earth.’”
“Whither would you soar?” (Gilbert,
138)
Aware of Edna’s inclinations and journey, Mademoiselle Reisz
serves as a “refuge” for Edna’s restless soul, meandering
over the possibilities and absurdities of existence. (Gilbert,
154) But, alas even Mademoiselle Reisz cannot be
responsible for Mrs. Pontellier’s choices and paths on her
spiritual quest for self-fulfillment.
The last two stages of Coleman’s model, first relationships
and identity integration, are perhaps the least developed in The
Awakening as Edna Pontellier’s coming out story. First
relationships represent the need for intimacy which is often
developed within the context of long-term committed relationships.
From a social learning perspective, the goal of first
relationships is to understand how one may develop intimate
relationships---that combine both emotional depth and sexual
desire---in a patriarchal society where the norm is opposite-sex
only marriages that are based on the distribution of wealth, the
commodification of sexuality, and the disregard of emotive needs. (Coleman,
38)
Edna’s attempts at relationships with men are at best
unrequited and at worst superficial. Mr. Pontellier and his
marriage to Edna signifies the uncaring, selfish patriarchal
dominance of the society in which they lived:
When Mr. Pontellier learned of his wife’s
intention to abandon
her home and take up her residence elsewhere,
he immediately wrote her a letter of unqualified disapproval and
remonstrance. She had given reasons which he was unwilling to
acknowledge as adequate. He hoped she had not acted upon her
rash impulse; and he begged her to consider first, foremost, and
above all else, what people would say. (Gilbert, 150)
Nor were Edna’s relationships with Robert Lebrun or Alcee
Arobin any more fulfilling. These failures to find a satisfying,
authentic relationship with another, however, were less a
reflection on Edna as creative agent, than they were a sign of
Victorian society’s inability or unwillingness to dispose of its
own puritanical rigidity. The deeply embedded nature of Victorian
gender roles and sexual expectations sublimated and doomed
genuine, fulfilling relationships based on mutual love, affection,
and spiritual solidarity.
What is more important than Edna’s ability or inability to
succeed in social relations, however, is her potential to become
more than what Victorian society allowed or cared for her to be
defined. (Chase, et. al., 814) Coleman
asserts that the final stage of coming out, identity integration,
incorporates the private, or hidden, self into the public, or
role-bound, self. This synthesis facilitates the emergence of a
solid, aesthetic, creative, self-defined identity and self-image
characterized by non-possessiveness, mutual trust, and freedom.
(Coleman, 39)
Coleman, however, also notes that the resolution of the
conflict between the public face one allows others to see and the
hidden truth of one’s self-identity, as manifested in the
pre-coming out stage, ultimately requires resolution. The choices
he offers for the resolution of this existential dilemma are
these: suicide; hiding one’s true feelings and desires; or,
bravely squaring off with the existential crisis of being
different and deviating from the prefabricated roles that society
demands human beings assume. By acknowledging the universal
condition that individual human beings possess differences that
enrich being human, individuals challenge the cultural barriers
that prevent them from realizing their own authenticity and
freedom. (Coleman, 39)
Conclusion
Some would argue that Edna Pontellier, in the final analysis,
is a weak and inauthentic character because (1.) she presumably
commits suicide, and (2.) she faails to create an authentic
existence for herself. This conclusion, it seems, is mistaken.
Although she does presumably swim to her death in the last scene
of The Awakening, and although she does not find
authenticity in her relationships with men, these two conclusions
perhaps miss the point. Edna Pontellier succeeds in coming out of
a meaningless marriage and, as an artist of individuality, asserts
her freedom to be something other than she is despite the
absurdity of human existence. In doing so she displays an
aesthetic of self and personhood that makes her much more genuine
and believable than less artfully constructed characters. In the
end, Edna is free of the societal restraints that characterized
Victorian culture: “She looked into the distance, and the old
terror flamed up for an instant, then sank again.”
For Each of You
Be who you are and will be
learn to cherish
that boisterous Black Angel that drives you
up one day and down another
protecting the place where your power rises
running like hot blood
from the same source
as your pain.
When you are hungry
learn to eat
whatever sustains you
until morning
but do not be mislead by the details
simply because you live them.
Do not let your head deny
your hands
any memory of what passes through them
nor your eyes nor your heart
everything can be used
except what is wasteful
(you will need to remember this
when you are accused of destruction).
Even when they are dangerous
examine the heart of those machines
which you hate
before you discard them
but do not mourn their lack of power
lest you be condemned
to relive them.
If you do not hate
you will never be lonely
enough to love easily
nor will you always be brave
although it does not grow any easier.
Do not pretend to convenient beliefs
even when they are righteous
you will never be able to defend your city
while shouting.
Remember our sun
is not the most noteworthy star
only the nearest.
Respect whatever pain you bring back
from your dreaming
but do not look for new gods
in the sea
nor in any part of a rainbow.
Each time you love
love as deeply
as if it were
forever
only nothing is
eternal.
Speak proudly to your children
where ever you may find them
tell them
you are the offspring of slaves
and your mother was
a princess
in darkness.
(1970) (Lorde, 1970/1992, 80-82)
© 2000, Keith Carson
