Medieval Fantasy and Misogyny
Lately, I've read a few blog posts around the block discussing misogyny in the genres of Sci-Fi and Fantasy (racism is also covered, but I'll talk about that later). For the past six months I've been writing a novel-length fantasy (titled Iron & Ash, see previous posts), and I began posting it in blog format on January first. As I write, I've begun to worry.
Two big questions have concerned me:
1. Does my writing make me look like a misogynist?
2. How much freedom within my world do I have to counter this?
I reread sections of my story, and there sure are a lot of sexist attitudes in my world. There's sexual objectification of women. There are slurs against females. Some women are baby makers. Some are characterized as "sluts" or have a "sexual deviancy."
Oh boy. Do I hold these opinions of women? Goodness no. Even though the opinions of even the main characters are not always the most women-friendly, this does not mean that I agree with them.
But the big question is:
How do I avoid being labeled misogynist when my fantasy world hews closely enough to actual medieval history to make misogynist attitudes prevalent?
That's a tough one to answer. In Earth's history, sexism has long been a problem. And it is a problem in the world of Iron & Ash as well. Ivar and Goran are not immune from it, because they are products of their culture. Certainly they are not the worst offenders, but if someone says something nasty, they won't necessarily do anything about it or even think twice. They are flawed, and have their own personality problems. To write them otherwise would be unrealistic and ring hollow.
However, every good story is a story of growth, and this is true for Ivar and Goran's tale as well. And although they may not always learn and change in the way my readers expect, the women in their lives will force them to confront at least some of the issues between the sexes. This would be a redeeming factor to some readers, I think, if they make it far enough through the story to see it. So, maybe this will work out for me.
Another hopefully redeeming factor is that I began writing Iron & Ash with a plan to create a few strong female characters. But there's also a paradox that this goal causes me to confront: What is non-misogynistic, and what makes a strong female character? The problem is that there is not one unified view.
Consider this question:
A woman has sex with multiple men out of wedlock. She is therefore which of the following?
A. A slut.
B. Sexually liberated.
C. A sex object, used by men.
Of course, I've given you no context, but it's still easy to make a snap judgment based on your own worldview. How you answer this question may inform how you will be predisposed to view at least one of my female characters. And the fact that most of the characters Ivar and Goran meet would answer (A) above compounds the problem. That may make them misogynistic, and maybe that's not fair (and I'd even argue that it's tragic). But it's realistic for the setting.
Do I agree with these characters? No. But I live in a different culture, and a time in which sex carries different consequences (less threat from STDs, less threat of pregnancy). And I'd argue that some of these issues are worthy of exploration. Far too many fantasy novels have sex with no risks or consequences. Sex has risks and consequences for all participants (including emotional ones), and although there's no reason to get preachy, there's also no reason not to at least think about them.
So, how does all this affect my writing? It doesn't. From the start I've been hoping for a prominent, strong, well-rounded female character or three. I go forward with the hope that having fleshed-out characters is the best way to combat the snap judgments. Even with this, not everyone's going to like them. Some may say nasty things about them or me for creating them. That's what makes the writing dangerous, and scary. But it's important for me not to sanitize my characters or my story. It's important for me to be true to the story, to keep it and myself honest.
In closing, I want to quote a passage that I read recently in Michael Chabon's essay, "Golem--The Recipe For Life" that I feel pertains to what I have written above (and perhaps in Iron & Ash as well):
"[...] I have come to see this fear, this sense of my own imperilment by my creations, as not only an inevitable, necessary part of writing fiction but as virtual guarantor, insofar as such a thing is possible, of the power of my work: as a sign that I am on the right track, that I am following the recipe correctly, speaking the proper spells. Literature, like magic, has always been about the handling of secrets, about the pain, the destruction and the marvelous liberation that can result when they are revealed. Telling the truth, when the truth matters most, is almost always a frightening prospect. If a writer doesn't give away secrets, his own or those of the people he loves; if she doesn't court disapproval, reproach and general wrath, whether of friends, family, or party apparatchiks; if the writer submits his work to an internal censor long before anyone else can get their hands on it, the result is pallid, inanimate, a lump of earth."
