I wanted to blog / facilitate this week because I wanted to dive more into Virginia Woolf, who is one of my favorite historical figures. I was first drawn to Virginia Woolf and her life story in high school when I first experienced depression, but I find her work from the 1920s to be particularly interesting in this current social moment and given the parallels between the 1918 flu epidemic and today’s pandemic. Given the current mental load that we are all experiencing as a result of the pandemic and current events, I traced how some of our authors this week–specifically Virginia Woolf, Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor, and the women of the Combahee River Collective–explore mental illness in their construction of feminism. In class, I will be leading us through a short history of First Wave feminism and a shared annotation activity.
There is a long and potent history between supposed mental illness and the feminist experience. We can dive into a variety of historical examples–for example, suffragette Alice Paul being institutionalized–and I will be going through some of these examples in class as we explore the history of First Wave feminism and how it relates to Woolf. However, since we are drawing connections between the past and the present–I’d like us to consider a common meme on social media– a list compiled of causes of mental illness in patients admitted to a West Virginia asylum. Regardless of the accuracy of this meme, the number of complaints specific to women (ie “imaginary female trouble, marriage of son”) is a sobering reminder that those who defied gender norms–and in rejecting them, could be called early feminists–were frequently labeled as “mentally ill.” This meme is particularly potent and shared widely to this day–and I think a big reason for that is the propensity for doctors to still dismiss women’s complaints as psychosomatic, an effect that is amplified for women of color.
Woolf explores this phenomenon in a different light in A Room of Her Own, explaining that women frequently experience mental distress upon recognizing the conditions of their oppression. In the fable of Shakespeare’s sister, she notes that “any woman born in the sixteenth century certainly would have gone crazy…” (898). What I find most interesting about Woolf’s characterization, however, is her discussion of “genius” and how interplays with class, race, and ability.
In the essay, Woolf notes that genius “is not born today among the working classes”–which seems at first glance to be an incredibly classist statement. However, she validates this statement with the remark that “How could it have been born among women…whose work began… almost before they were out of the nursery?” (897) While this does recognize that ability can be found in individuals of all genders and class backgrounds, this formulation is still limited by the assumption that “genius” is restricted only to skills developed in formal education. She recognizes the potential for genius among women in lower classes, but infantilizes these women, claiming that as a result of their upbringing, they are now incapable of producing great works. Would Woolf have recognized the “genius” of folksongs or handcrafts? Additionally, I am intrigued that, with a rather limited definition of what “genius” actually is, she laments that “any woman born with a great gift in the sixteenth century would have certainly gone crazed” (898). What would Woolf have thought of a woman who, with no “great gift,” still recognized the conditions of her oppression? (Or would that recognition be in itself an indication of a “great gift?”) In Woolf’s formulation, mental unrest in response to oppression is a natural response for those with superior ability.
Woolf’s formulation of mental illness demonstrates both her class background and the experience of white Britons in an age of empire. I’ve always been fascinated by Virginia and Leonard’s relationship and collaboration, so I was interested–but not entirely surprised–to learn that Leonard had begun his career as a colonial administrator. Ever since I read Mrs Dalloway in high school, I’ve also been fascinated with how Woolf addresses immigration–in that text–through the character of Lucrezia, an Italian immigrant married to a World War I veteran suffering from PTSD. Yet, in her short parable, she makes no mention of race or immigration–which is not surprising. Like many other white female feminists of her time, Woolf’s life and actions were incredibly radical, yet also worked within the traditional system and centered the experiences of upper-class, white females in the Western world.
In contrast, the Combahee Women’s Collective directly addressed both issues of empire and issues of mental health–for ALL women, not just the “mad,” gifted few. As Taylor notes in her introduction, the CRC had an internationalist focus, making this important distinction to demonstrate “solidarity with women in countries that were often suffering because of the policies and military actions of the US government” (12). While this might seem radically ahead of Virginia Woolf’s time, it is important to note, as Taylor does, that in the early 1920s (the same time that Woolf was selling A Room of Her Own to the wealthy, well-read white women of the British Empire), Lenin was identifying and recognizing the levels of oppression that minorities faced in addition to the class struggle (as a side note: this is something that I don’t know a lot about, but I’m interested in learning more about!)
The connections between the CRC statement and mental illness are less obvious than in A Room of Her Own, but are nevertheless potent. As Taylor notes, the CRC itself and Black feminists, in general, rallied around causes of reproductive justice, especially ending the forced sterilization programs that were rampant in the 1970s (I’m going to pause here to let that fact sink in for anyone who was unfamiliar with this–when I learned about these programs as an undergrad, it blew my mind that women of color were being sterilized against their knowledge in my mother’s lifetime and I was horrified that we had never talked about this in school). However, these sterilization programs began in the early 20th century as a way of reducing mental illness (classified as “feeblemindedness”) in women–both of color and white–who were institutionalized. As the infamous Supreme Court case of Buck vs Bell shows, women who were working class, mentally ill, and considered “promiscuous” (but were often the victims of rape or sexual assault!) were more likely to be targetted for sterilization early on. In fact, the very experiences of women who were targetted by sterilization schemes demonstrate the interplay of class, sexuality, gender, and ability. However, by the 1970s, these efforts had been more secretive and more targetted on women of color–a move that also corresponded with changes in healthcare for the mentally ill and deinstitutionalization.
In addition to focusing their activism in reducing sterilization–a form of oppression that started with deadly misguided ideas of how to care for the mentally ill–the women of CRC also directly address the relationship between mental illness and the experience of living in a patriarchal, racist world. Early on in their statement, the women explain: “Black feminists often talk about their feelings of craziness before becoming conscious of the concepts of sexual politics, patriarchial rule, and, most importantly, feminism” (Taylor 17). In this statement, they draw a direct line between the feelings that Shakespeare’s theoretical sister faced and the experiences of Black women in the 1970s. However, unlike Woolf–who links this sense of perceived madness with only the talented–the women of the CRC generalize this feeling to all of their Black and brown sisters, attesting that the systems “did not allow most Black women” to critically examine *why* they felt so-called “crazy”. Furthermore, unlike Woolf (in the section that we looked at), the women of the CRC offer a simple solution: giving Black women a lens to understand how the system has let them down and how it connects to their mental health.
As we look at these two texts in conversation with another, they bring to mind a few questions to situation our discussion in a broader historical and political context:
Discussion Questions:
-What is the relationship between early 20th century feminism and experiences of empire? How do we see experiences of empire and neocolonialism impacting discussions of race, class, and gender today?
-Many of the most oppressive body politics in the 20th century–the eugenics movement, forced sterilization, and even the Holocaust itself–started out targetting those with mental illness or so-called “inferior” mental abilities. What is the relationship between race, class, gender, and ability studies / politics?
-The women of the Combahee River Collective were engaged in issues of reproductive justice and worked at the intersection of queer and feminist politics. Where do we see these intersections and engagement with reproductive justice today?
Lexi’s Personal Question:Would anybody like to dive into excerpts of Mrs Dalloway or other Virginia Woolf texts for the student-facilitated lesson later in the course? Given the circumstances, I’m especially interested in how the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic influenced Virginia Woolf’s life and how it is discussed in texts such as Mrs Dalloway. Also bonus points for anyone who has read The Hours by Michael Cummingham or seen the film =)
Hi Lexi,
I really loved your connection between mental health and early feminism. You did a great job of really emphasizing your connection between feminism and mental illness. Mental illness is often left to its own category, but it works really well with intersectionality. There is a rich history there of the undermining of women by claiming they are crazy(still happening today!) Your blog reminded me of “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gillman. In that story, the narrator is the wife of a physician who blatantly ignores her distress and locks her up in their home. She details her descent into madness through journal entries. I think the stereotypes that have defined feminity throughout the decades are used to keep women subordinate. If those who deviate or try to step out of their box–perhaps by writing a novel or something like that, are labeled as crazy then the patriarchy gets to keep their power. I would love to see some statistics (if they existed) of women who were institutionalized for these sort of “disorders” and how many actually had depression or anxiety, or were just locked away for deviation.
To your question of the intersectional relationship between race/class/gender and ability, I think that they all converge together. If society doesn’t see your race/class/gender/ability as desirable, then you don’t get the privileges allotted to those who have the desirable abilities. With that being said I think that political regimes use what that distinction to increase fear and resentment to the “others” and that breeds hate and the injustice and genocide in your examples.
Hello Lexi!
What a well-done and marvelous post. The topic of unrecognized “genius” among the women of the past was one that I found myself being particularly interested in; especially in Shakespeare’s Sister, being a major fan of the playwright. Your questions on what Woolf may or may have not constituted as being a sign of “genius” were thought-provoking. I cannot speak on Woolf’s behalf; however I would believe that one does not need to possess a “great genius” to know that they are oppressed. If, suggested by Woolf, a formal education is needed, what does this say about those who live in poverty and cannot afford this “luxury”? From anyone else, would women in this class not only acknowledge their oppression in not being able to work in positions specialized for men in order to support themselves? Additionally, they would deal with the added intersectionality that comes with class oppression. Speaking of intersectionality and concerning Black feminists, sterilization of Black women for recognizing their oppression was something that I was completely not taught about until reading Taylor’s “Until Black Women Are Free, None of Us Will Be Free”, which is utterly terrifying. It is terrifying that such information is omitted from general education and that this was a practice occurring into the 1970s that considered willfulness to be synonymous with mental illness. What this implies about the relationships of repressed groups is that the privileged power considers speaking up in masses to be a threat and views them as less than human, like with Jewish experimentation during the Holocaust. If they can get rid of this so called “mental illness”, they prevent children being taught how to be willful too and generate fear among oppressed populations to keep quiet.
Hi Lexi!
First, I absolutely loved reading your blog post. Your writing style kept me so engaged throughout your entire post and your connection between mental health and early feminism is wonderful. Throughout history women have always been suppressed by their biology. If we take a quick look at the European Enlightenment period, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a philosopher, believed the role of a woman depended solely on their biology. Women were created to have children and be a mother. With that single, sexist perspective grew another problematic perspective that women are too hormonal, too emotional, too crazy, and are unable to control themselves. Essentially, this weaved into women being the ones associated with mental distress and being institutionalized. Today, we can even think about how showing your emotions are connected with women more than with men. Of course, I think it is becoming more socially acceptable for men to show their emotions, however, there are still strong societal norms that are placed on genders. Another topic your blog post made me think about is the connection between self-care and feminism. There is a quote by Audre Lorde commenting on self-care and she states: “Caring for myself is not an act of self-indulgence. It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare” (https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/aug/21/self-care-radical-feminist-idea-mass-market). Our ideas of gender roles and sexuality strongly form how we understand mental health and self-care.
Hi Lexi, I like how you pointed out Woolf’s point that “genius,” as it were, is not purely found through one’s education, but rather, it can be found through the human experience. The more exposure one has to various social classes, the more they can understand various mindsets people have towards concepts like genius. I think that women in lower class, like you used in your example, would have a “genius” of knowing what it is like to be female and lower class, and to suffer the social consequences. Those who are oppressed will surely have a better understanding of how socialization and class influences mental health and approaches to learning, as opposed to someone who has always had the advantage of living a more privileged life.