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Monday, January 13, 2020 - 07:00

While proofreading this entry before posting, I found myself thinking about the question of "what are identity categories anyway?" This also comes from the book that I was writing up an entry for last night (which won't post for quite some time), which talked a lot about the difference between "modern sexual identities" versus "pre-modern sexual tastes." Thinking from my own personal experience of "sexual identity," it sometimes feels like even "modern sexual identities" is an invented construct rather than an objective phenomenon. My sexuality category is "lesbian" (also "asexual") but when I contemplate understanding my sexuality as part of an objective, identifiable, widespread cultural "thing" that is a lesbian identity, I either have to conclude that there is no unified "lesbian identity" or I'm not part of it. Similarly, to the extent that there is an objective, identifiable "asexual identity" I also don't feel part of it. Part of my identity is "woman, " but it would be a snare and an illusion to suppose that there is an objective, identifiable cultural experience of "woman" that all women belong to and participate in. And I'm not sure that I feel any more comfortable about assuming that the unease I feel is simply a matter of factoring in the question of intersectional identities. And yet...I do feel confident in identifying with the concept "lesbian" even if I don't identify with some universal unified lesbianhood. I do feel confident in identifying with the concept "asexual" even if I don't identify with some universal unified asexuality. I do feel confident in identifying with the concept "woman", etc etc.

So does this mean that I'm really a social constructionist? I don't think so. Because I don't think that my experience of those categories is an arbitrary product of a fleeting conjunction of cultures. In fact, I think that my unease with the idea of belonging to "objective, identifiable identity categories" is an unease with the specific social constructions produced by this fleeting moment in time. (I sometimes point out that I identify much more with the sexuality category of "romantic friendship" than I do with the sexuality categories available during my own lifetime.) I experience something--I guess "building blocks of identity" is a good way to put it--that feels apart from the specific conjunctions of features to which gender/sexuality labels are given. But to represent those building blocks as "a matter of individual personal taste" (as the book I was writing up last night would put it) feels trivializing. The distinctions in how I experience romantic and sexual attraction are not the same as my dislike for kale and my love of sushi, even those the latter are both shaped by specific, transitory cultural factors. Would I have always felt a vague, undefinable yearning to eat raw fish if sushi restaurants hadn't been "a thing" within my lifetime? Somehow I don't think so.

At the same time, there are vocal (though minority) voices on the "identitarian" side, both with regard to sexuality and gender, that seem bound and determined to narrow and specify the categories of "lesbian" or "woman" so strictly that we may end with no one qualifying for membership at all, either in the present day or the past. (In some cases, this seems to be an intentional goal.) Human categories are complex and fuzzy. Any time we have tried to eliminate that complexity and fuzziness has ended in tragedy and horror.

These meandering thoghts boil down to a couple of points. 1) Are the social constructionists/anti-identitarians simply wrong-headed in treating contemporary gender/sexual identities as a fixed point to react against? 2) Does it trivialize the inner subjective experience of "identity building blocks" to dismiss them as less meaningful than the complex intersectional structures of those building blocks that we give names to? (This is the topic of my podcast "Prepositions, Sexuality, and Gender: Unpacking Our Bundles.") 3) Can one belong to a category that never entirely seems to fit? Anyway, on to the article.

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Vicinus, Martha. 2012. "The History of Lesbian History" in Feminist Studies vol. 38, no. 3 566-596.

This is a survey of the field of lesbian historiography as of 2012. This sort of article is primarily useful to me as a pointer to publications I may not know about, but Vicinus has written a very readable guided tour of the various movements and developments in the field which can help provide a context for the publications themselves. I think anyone trying to navigate the specifics of academic writing on the history of sexuality would benefit from this sort of high-level chronology. It helps remind us that the conclusions of historians are always contingent on the framework they are working in, just as the expression of gender and sexuality in history is always contingent on the historic frameworks people had available.

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

While proofreading this entry before posting, I found myself thinking about the question of "what are identity categories anyway?" This also comes from the book that I was writing up an entry for last night (which won't post for quite some time), which talked a lot about the difference between "modern sexual identities" versus "pre-modern sexual tastes." Thinking from my own personal experience of "sexual identity," it sometimes feels like even "modern sexual identities" is an invented construct rather than an objective phenomenon. My sexuality category is "lesbian" (also "asexual") but when I contemplate understanding my sexuality as part of an objective, identifiable, widespread cultural "thing" that is a lesbian identity, I either have to conclude that there is no unified "lesbian identity" or I'm not part of it. Similarly, to the extent that there is an objective, identifiable "asexual identity" I also don't feel part of it. Part of my identity is "woman, " but it would be a snare and an illusion to suppose that there is an objective, identifiable cultural experience of "woman" that all women belong to and participate in. And I'm not sure that I feel any more comfortable about assuming that the unease I feel is simply a matter of factoring in the question of intersectional identities. And yet...I do feel confident in identifying with the concept "lesbian" even if I don't identify with some universal unified lesbianhood. I do feel confident in identifying with the concept "asexual" even if I don't identify with some universal unified asexuality. I do feel confident in identifying with the concept "woman", etc etc.

So does this mean that I'm really a social constructionist? I don't think so. Because I don't think that my experience of those categories is an arbitrary product of a fleeting conjunction of cultures. In fact, I think that my unease with the idea of belonging to "objective, identifiable identity categories" is an unease with the specific social constructions produced by this fleeting moment in time. (I sometimes point out that I identify much more with the sexuality category of "romantic friendship" than I do with the sexuality categories available during my own lifetime.) I experience something--I guess "building blocks of identity" is a good way to put it--that feels apart from the specific conjunctions of features to which gender/sexuality labels are given. But to represent those building blocks as "a matter of individual personal taste" (as the book I was writing up last night would put it) feels trivializing. The distinctions in how I experience romantic and sexual attraction are not the same as my dislike for kale and my love of sushi, even those the latter are both shaped by specific, transitory cultural factors. Would I have always felt a vague, undefinable yearning to eat raw fish if sushi restaurants hadn't been "a thing" within my lifetime? Somehow I don't think so.

At the same time, there are vocal (though minority) voices on the "identitarian" side, both with regard to sexuality and gender, that seem bound and determined to narrow and specify the categories of "lesbian" or "woman" so strictly that we may end with no one qualifying for membership at all, either in the present day or the past. (In some cases, this seems to be an intentional goal.) Human categories are complex and fuzzy. Any time we have tried to eliminate that complexity and fuzziness has ended in tragedy and horror.

These meandering thoughts boil down to a couple of points. 1) Are the social constructionists/anti-identitarians simply wrong-headed in treating contemporary gender/sexual identities as a fixed point to react against? 2) Does it trivialize the inner subjective experience of "identity building blocks" to dismiss them as less meaningful than the complex intersectional structures of those building blocks that we give names to? (This is the topic of my podcast "Prepositions, Sexuality, and Gender: Unpacking Our Bundles.") 3) Can one belong to a category that never entirely seems to fit? Anyway, on to the article.

# # #

As a preface, Vicinus begins with a review of the works of sexologists such as Havelock Ellis, noting that despite their goals they flounder a bit in determining just what they’re studying. Is lesbianism “an emotion, a sexual act, a gender reversal ... situational or innate”? Agreeing that fuzziness is perhaps an essential feature of lesbian history, she then tackles a summary of the previous 30 years of study of the topic. Her focus, she admits, is her own field of modern British history and draws largely on Euro-American scholarship.

The first question to be addressed is whether using the word “lesbian” is even advisable, but Vicinus comes down on the side of considering the word “a useful shortcut for evoking a whole range of words that have been used to describe attachments between women” with the advantage that the associations of the word keep a certain focus on sex and avoid the scope-creep that a more general term like “queer” invites.

One feature of recent lesbian historiography (aside from regular paradigm shifts) has been a rejection of psychological models of the mid-20th century that divided the world of sexuality into “normal” and “deviant.” The next section of the article is organized around reviewing “five paradigms in less than thirty years.”

1. Adrienne Rich’s “lesbian continuum”

Following the 1970s, as lesbian historians focused on identifying lesbians in history, Rich expanded the concept of “lesbian” to embrace a wide variety of affective relationships such that most women could be identified as within the continuum. This approach was less appealing to many who worked to identify women in history who had an identifiable identity that could be defined as lesbian. Their approach was “essentialist” in the sense that it pre-supposed an essential, unchanging sexual identity that could be determined through evidence.

Lillian Faderman’s Surpassing the Love of Men fell on the “continuum” side in arguing that women’s same-sex relations had a long history in Europe and encompassed a range of expressions, but her stance that most “romantic friendship” relationships were non-sexual spurred a backlash. The initial publication in 1988 of Anne Lister’s diaries put the “non-sexual” theory to bed (as it were) and other work on the topic has identified a more complex and layered understanding of women’s sexuality in the era Faderman studied.

Even as the models of Rich’s continuum struggled with identity-based models, other historians were raising issues of communities marginalized within that original work: Smith on Black women’s friendships, Kennedy and Davis on working-class butch/femme relationships, Moraga and Anzaldúa’s focus on race and class. The search for identification with the past needed to include identification by race and class rather than revolving around a Eurocentric white middle-class model.

2. Social Constructionism

This second paradigm emphasized differences across historic eras, rather than identity. Driven by the work of Jeffrey Weeks and Michel Foucault, it argued that sexuality was always a social construction of a particular set of historic circumstances and that identities in the past were unrelated to present-day categories. This approach drew on observations such as the different features of “masculinity” and “femininity” in various cultures, as well as using anthropology to study affective cultures that don’t correspond across time. Smith-Rosenberg’s work on women’s friendships and networks in 18-19th century America is an example. Same-sex affective cultures of the past might have emotional resonance for the present, but could not be directly equated with modern identities.

By the 1980s, feminist historians were adopting the tools and rhetoric of social constructionism and beginning to view theories of a transhistoric “homosexual identity” as too essentialist. Constructionists argued that the past was an alien country where same-sex acts did not correspond to a defined sexual identity.

3. Queer Theory

Around 1990, historians such as Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick began arguing against the very notion of a stable sexual identity (even in the present day). Queer theory approached identity as a flexible and shifting performance, with gender identity and sexuality simply being another type of performance. Judith Butler is another name prominent here. Lesbian “identity” was to be disassembled and examined as an intersection of gender, sexual identity and desire, all of which are unstable.

In this context, rather than homoerotic desire being a minority identity, it becomes part of a universal erotic pluralism that has always existed. While queer theory lent itself to cultural studies, historians have been hesitant to embrace it, as the dissolving of categories and causation work against the generally understood purposes of historic study.

Moreover, there has been a certain wariness in how queer theory has focused on masculinity and masculine subjects, while dismissing the concept of “lesbian” as essentialist and outdated. And the all-encompassing nature of queer theory led some scholars to consider it of questionable usefulness. Others feel that when queer theory focuses both on historical specificity and the varied nature of sexual behavior, it provides a useful tool--and has been used to question Foucault’s strict distinction between pre-19th century “acts” versus post-19th century “identity”.

Queer theory can still provide a basis for connection with the past on the basis of similarity, but rather by assuming the modern viewpoint as the origin of that similarity. The flip side of this is losing track of history as a factual concept and embracing only the subjective fictions of modern interpreters.

4. Transgender studies

Since the late 1990s, transgender studies have brought new angles to bear on the topics of gender and sexuality, returning to a focus on gender as a crucial attribute rather than sexual behavior. Rather than defining identity through the nature of the erotic object, transgender studies define it through embodied experience of the self.

Vicinus then takes us on a personal tour through how her own focus of study reflects these overall shifts, especially through her studies of female friendship. Having begun by studying female friendship as an emotional resource in the context of heterosexual marriage, she looked for “different” forms of same-sex friendship that could be part of a continuum of same-sex desire. 19th century same-sex friendships were richly varied and provided information in their silences as much as their texts.

Coming to examine the relational nature of sexuality, she argues for a fifth paradigm that focuses on complex identifications that draw on familial, class, national, and racial associations. She has studied the ways that women constructed their individual identities out of the imagery of other relationships to express a vocabulary of love and desire for other women. These relationships were negotiated using flirtation, erotic games, role playing, and careful definitions around forbidden concepts (e.g., what counted as “sex”). Women’s same-sex relations in the 19th century both borrowed the forms of heterosexual courtship and were in turn co-opted as part of heterosexual structures. By this means, women constructed a variety of same-sex relationships as reflections of familiar family ties: husband-wife, mother-daughter, sisters, etc., roles that could shift and co-exist within the same couple.

Currently (i.e., that is in 2012 when this article was written) Vicinus sees the study of sexuality in a “state of fruitful crisis.” Lesbian history is still stuck in the ruts of pursuing a genealogical timeline and trying to name-and-claim identifiable “lesbians”. Visibility is seen as a measure of legitimacy and lesbian identity is still defined in reference to heterosexuality. Lesbians alternate between an assimilationist or adversarial relationship to dominant society, or hold both at once. No one historical theoretical framework can encompass all the necessary analysis.

That said, approaches can still broadly be divided between those focusing on similarity (identifying connections across time and finding same-sex relations integrated into society), and those focusing on difference (examining the impact of social and political institutions on sex-deviant women and the forces for punishment or conformity).

One promising development is the mainstreaming of lesbian topics within general history, showing how homoerotic relationships acted as a historic force, or viewing expressions of female friendship at face value rather than assuming coded lesbianism. The celebration of female friendship supported not only homoerotic connections, but the freedom of women to exist outside of marriage in general.

There is still a place for those studying fragmentary documentation from the pre-modern period for evidence of similarity or difference to modern relationships. And the queer theorists support the desire for connections with the past as a subjective reality. The “lesbian continuum” has returned in the form of Judith Bennett’s “lesbian-like” concept, declining to define the past while still identifying connections.

Vicinus surveys a number of questions that remain a challenge on the “difference” side of the line, not only in terms of how lesbians are viewed and treated by institutions, but the importance of race and class as contributing axes. The social work that often brought women together in supportive romantic bonds often took colonialist forms with respect to their beneficiaries. And the intersection of transgender studies with lesbian studies partakes of a “difference” approach, not only in identifying trans men/trans-masculine women/butch women as a site of contention, but in tracing the ways that theoretical treatments of gender and sexuality have shifted emphasis from one to the other.

The article concludes with a review of some newer metaphors and images for considering lesbian history, such as Clark’s “twilight moments” and Traub’s “cycles of salience.” Studies that address non-Western history are also getting more attention. As a final coda, Vicinus discusses the biography of Edith Less Ellis, the wife of sexologist Havelock Ellis, whose marriage was full of complex and contradictory sexual themes.

Saturday, January 11, 2020 - 07:00

Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast - Episode 140 (previously 42b) - Interview with Kate Heartfield

(Originally aired 2020/01/11 - listen here)

Transcript pending.


Show Notes

A series of interviews with authors of historically-based fiction featuring queer women.

In this episode we talk about:

Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online

Links to Heather Online

Links to Kate Heartfield Online

Major category: 
LHMP
Monday, January 6, 2020 - 07:00

Articles that are not about history, but rather are about how we think about history don't have the same "zing" and "pop" as facts-on-the-ground articles, but especially once one gets past marveling at the incoherent wealth of primary evidence that historians are presenting to us, it becomes more and more important to think about how we think. This article is the sort of general talk that is typical of opening a conference roundtable. It doesn't have some of the deep digging into historiography that I enjoyed, for example, in the collection The Lesbian Premodern. But it does address ideas such how we "periodize" lesbian history and how we study world-wide related phenomena without shoehorning them into a Western historical framework. I think the idea of "generations," both of female same-sex experience and of the historical study of those experiences, is an intriguing one. Certainly across my own lifetime and even strictly within USA culture, there are multiple distinct and identifiable ways of experiencing lesbian-relevant desire, to say nothing of distinct and identifiable ways of relating to the word and concept "lesbian."

On twitter yesterday, someone posted a comment about "why are identities/labels like bi, gay, non-binary, and trans get to be 'umbrella terms' that are understood to encompass a collection of different identities and experiences, while some people feel it's 'dangerous' to suggest that 'lesbian' could have similarly varied application?" I contributed to the discussion by pointing out that, given the ways that the word "lesbian" has been used prior to the 20th century (and, in fact, prior to the later 20th century), most of the women to whom that word was applied in the past would not meet the strict and narrow definitions that a (small) group of exclusionists argue for today. But the definitional wars over the word "lesbian" are not unique to people who want to preserve it only for some small select "pure" core meaning. Challenges are also raised by people who feel that identifying a person or a relationship or an act as "lesbian" erases any other possible reading of that person, relationship, or act. This position, too, risks functionally erasing the word and concept "lesbian" from history. The introduction to The Lesbian Premodern challenges the tendency for this asymmetry of "umbrella terminology" function, where a male historical figure will be welcomed as "gay" for any trace of same-sex relations, while a female historical figure will be allowed the identity of "lesbian" only if and when she can be proven to have engaged in same-sex erotics and to have done so exclusively to any heterosexual interests.

My own personal position is that when you look at the historic usage of the term lesbian (apart from its geographic sense) one can either conclude that it has a broader meaning of "relating to any female same-sex relations" or one can conclude that no one in history was using the word correctly. My (very personal) belief is that the greatest risk from movements to push for a narrow, rigid, "pure" usage for "lesbian" is that it will result in us losing useful access to the word entirely. And that would be a historic and cultural tragedy.

 

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Rupp, Leila J. 2013. "Thinking About 'Lesbian History'" in Feminist Studies vol. 39, no 2 357-361.

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

Articles that are not about history, but rather are about how we think about history don't have the same "zing" and "pop" as facts-on-the-ground articles, but especially once one gets past marveling at the incoherent wealth of primary evidence that historians are presenting to us, it becomes more and more important to think about how we think. This article is the sort of general talk that is typical of opening a conference roundtable. It doesn't have some of the deep digging into historiography that I enjoyed, for example, in the collection The Lesbian Premodern. But it does address ideas such how we "periodize" lesbian history and how we study world-wide related phenomena without shoehorning them into a Western historical framework. I think the idea of "generations," both of female same-sex experience and of the historical study of those experiences, is an intriguing one. Certainly across my own lifetime and even strictly within USA culture, there are multiple distinct and identifiable ways of experiencing lesbian-relevant desire, to say nothing of distinct and identifiable ways of relating to the word and concept "lesbian."

On twitter yesterday, someone posted a comment about "why are identities/labels like bi, gay, non-binary, and trans get to be 'umbrella terms' that are understood to encompass a collection of different identities and experiences, while some people feel it's 'dangerous' to suggest that 'lesbian' could have similarly varied application?" I contributed to the discussion by pointing out that, given the ways that the word "lesbian" has been used prior to the 20th century (and, in fact, prior to the later 20th century), most of the women to whom that word was applied in the past would not meet the strict and narrow definitions that a (small) group of exclusionists argue for today. But the definitional wars over the word "lesbian" are not unique to people who want to preserve it only for some small select "pure" core meaning. Challenges are also raised by people who feel that identifying a person or a relationship or an act as "lesbian" erases any other possible reading of that person, relationship, or act. This position, too, risks functionally erasing the word and concept "lesbian" from history. The introduction to The Lesbian Premodern challenges the tendency for this asymmetry of "umbrella terminology" function, where a male historical figure will be welcomed as "gay" for any trace of same-sex relations, while a female historical figure will be allowed the identity of "lesbian" only if and when she can be proven to have engaged in same-sex erotics and to have done so exclusively to any heterosexual interests.

My own personal position is that when you look at the historic usage of the term lesbian (apart from its geographic sense) one can either conclude that it has a broader meaning of "relating to any female same-sex relations" or one can conclude that no one in history was using the word correctly. My (very personal) belief is that the greatest risk from movements to push for a narrow, rigid, "pure" usage for "lesbian" is that it will result in us losing useful access to the word entirely. And that would be a historic and cultural tragedy.

# # #

This is a very short article that introduces a roundtable discussion of “lesbian generations.” (Only one other article included in the roundtable was suitable for the LHMP.) The roundtable posed the following questions (paraphrased): Who is part of “lesbian history”? Has female same-sex sexuality changed over time/space in a way that creates identifiable “generations”? Does the term “lesbian” make sense in a global context? How do we approach global questions of sexuality? Has the practice of “lesbian history” changed over time and does it have “generations”? How do we address the intersection of sexuality and gender? Can we imagine new frameworks for thinking about sexuality and in particular lesbian historiography? How does lesbian history differ from gay or queer history?

Rupp discusses why she invented the word “sapphistries” for her global survey in order to avoid the complexities of applying “lesbian” in times and places where it might not apply. To the extent that “lesbian” defines an identity, it is not always available or chosen. But Rupp also wants to avoid the overly-encompassing approach of Rich’s “lesbian continuum” feeling that a focus defined by female same-sex desire, erotic love, and/or sexual acts is a necessary organizing principle.

She discusses the difficulties of tackling the lesbian/trans interface in a historic context, but notes that when historic societies had problems with female same-sex activity, it was the concept of two female bodies coming together that they considered relevant, not the question of self-identity or presentation. Therefore when studying such historic contexts, it is relevant to study the topic from both sides.

The question of self-identity becomes more salient and prominent when moving to a contemporary global understanding. Even people who have access to Western concepts of “lesbian” and “gay” may not choose those identities as reflecting their experience. And the current generation in Western culture is increasingly shifting to a multiplicity of identities where they might previously have used “lesbian”.

Both across history and across cultures, we see repeating but varied patterns of how same-sex sexuality is conceptualized, such as whether the image of similarity or of difference is emphasized, or whether same-sex desire is framed as physiological or psychological. Rupp argues against looking for binaries in these patterns and instead seeks how complex interactions play out.

Sunday, January 5, 2020 - 09:51
Crosword Challenge Logo

Lesfic author and publisher Jae is running another year-long participatory book promotion event. This time it's a monthly crossword puzzle with clues from a specific set of f/f books, either by genre or sponsored by a particular publisher. Complete the crossword to win free books! See the website for full contest details, and I highly recommend that if you want to participate you sign on for Jae's newsletter so you don't miss any new postings.

(Evidently someone submitted crossword clues relating to one or more of my books, but since I don't know which one(s) or what category they'll appear in, you'll just have to follow the series and find out.)

Major category: 
Promotion
Saturday, January 4, 2020 - 07:00

Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast - Episode 139 (previously 42a) - On the Shelf for January 2020 - Transcript

(Originally aired 2020/01/04 - listen here)

Welcome to On the Shelf for January 2020.

Saying that, it occurs to me that we’re going to get an entire year of jokes about “20-20 vision.” So what’s my vision for this new year? I wish I knew. I’m just going to keep on keeping on and do my bit to add more diversity, more knowledge, and more understanding to the world. As for the Lesbian Historic Motif Project, I feel like I’ve reached a point of equilibrium with all my projects. I don’t expect any major changes in format or content for the blog or the podcast this year. Maybe some minor additions and shifts.

As you know from the sponsor break text, the Project has a Patreon, in addition to the general Patreon for the TLT podcast group. I’ve been thinking about types of content that would provide value back to Patrons. One experiment I’m going to try is micro-reviews of the new book listings, which I’ll talk about later in the show.

Another type of content I’ve been working on is practical reference material for authors. I’m thinking of things like vocabulary about f/f sexuality, or examples of romantic and sexual language used between women in historic sources. I’m also looking at timelines of types of relationships and identities in historic cultures. This sort of content doesn’t work well for entertaining audio and is the sort of thing you’d want to save off for reference. If you want that sort of content--or simply want to support the podcast--check out the Patreon. I’ll note that show’s expenses are primarily royalties and narrator fees for the fiction series. I don’t expect patrons to support my book habit! And the podcast hosting expenses are under the TLT group as a whole, so support that aspect through the TLT Patreon.

2020 Fiction Series

Since it’s January, submissions are open for the 2020 fiction series! If you’ve been working on a story to submit, I certainly hope you’ll send it in for consideration. If you’ve been dithering and you’re a fast worker, you might still have time to write something. Check out the show notes for the link to the full instructions. If things go like they have the last two years, by the time you listen to this, I’ll be biting my fingernails because people always seem to wait for the last minute to send in their submissions. Mind you, there’s no advantage from getting your submission in early, except for keeping your editor from freaking out.

Other Markets

While we’re on the subject of fiction markets, in addition to the open submissions for the Silk and Steel anthology that I mentioned last month, I’ve run across a new market that has produced some interesting queer historical audio short fiction. The show is “A Story Most Queer” and it’s part of the Mischief Media podcast group, which produces a number of pop culture related shows. The podcast produces audio versions of stories by and about queer people. While the scope of representation is broad and all genres are welcome, they caught my interest not only because the balance of representation is good, but because out of the first 13 episodes, 2 of them involve f/f relationships in historic settings. So whether you’re looking for new podcast listening, or whether you have fiction looking for a home, check out their website. They pay a flat fee of $50 for stories in the 2000-4000 word range, with some flexibility, and they accept reprints. See the show notes for a link.

Publications on the Blog

The blog is being busy with some substantial books mixed in with the articles. In December we covered several papers on Renaissance and Early Modern topics: Valerie Traub’s “The Renaissance of Lesbianism in Early Modern England”, Tim Hitchcock’s "The Reformulation of Sexual Knowledge in Eighteenth-Century England", and Randolph Trumbach’s "The Transformation of Sodomy from the Renaissance to the Modern World and Its General Sexual Consequences.” December finished with John Boswell’s classic Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality: Gay People in Western Europe from the Beginning of the Christian Era to the Fourteenth Century. Then at the beginning of January I rolled right on into Boswell’s other classic work, Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe. His work is simultaneously fascinating and frustrating. Fascinating because he tackled the history of attitudes toward homosexuality in Europe from a personal and sympathetic viewpoint, but frustrating because his work functionally ignores female homosexuality while paying lip service to being a general study. If you want more of my grumpy opinions on that topic, you can find them in the blog.

After that I take a brief breather with two survey articles: Leila Rupp’s “Thinking about ‘Lesbian History’” and Martha Vicinus’s “The History of Lesbian History.” Following those, I grit my teeth and tackle Michel Foucault’s three-volume The History of Sexuality, which I’ll cover in one volume each week. Foucault is a philosopher, not a historian, and I’ll be skimming rather that reading deeply, so this may not be as painful as I anticipate. (I haven’t actually started on it as of drawing up these notes.) I get something of a blog vacation after that, not because I won’t be posting, but because I already have articles written through April!

Book Shopping!

I hadn’t meant to buy any new books for the blog, but since all the copies of Foucault’s History of Sexuality were checked out of the U.C. Berkeley library, I decided to swing by Moe’s Books on Telegraph Avenue and was relieved to find a used set. My theory was that I’d get that work written up over the holidays, but...well...not yet.

Not a purchase, but while I was poking around in the library, I also checked out Phillips & Reay’s Sex Before Sexuality: A Premodern History which I’ll prioritize since I’ll need to return it soon.

Author Guest

This month’s author guest will be Kate Heartfield who writes some exciting historic fantasy. I connected with her at Worldcon in Ireland this summer but we only just worked out the logistics to record. I’ve had her pair of time-traveling novellas, Alice Payne Arrives and Alice Payne Rides on my radar for a while now.

Essay

I hadn’t decided on this month’s essay until I was sitting down to write up my script for this show, but I’d set up a bunch of idea folders and picked the one that seems closest to ripe. So I’ll be doing a show on Iphis and Ianthe, Ovid’s tale of gender disguise, same-sex love, and transformation that inspired many later variants and versions. It’s a story that sits awkwardly at the intersection of lesbian themes and transgender themes and I’ll be talking about how it can be a touch-point for a variety of modern identities. One of the aspects I’ll discuss is how the tale continued to be re-told and re-interpreted from Ovid’s Latin original early in the first century throughout the middle ages and Renaissance and on into the 17th century. When I imagine what models women in those eras might have had for same-sex love, this story is one that was common in pop culture retellings.

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Recent Lesbian Historical Fiction

Time for the recent, new, and forthcoming books! In the podcast, I mostly stick to listing the books and giving the cover copy. Every once in a while I’ll mention a recommendation or a content advisory, but I want this part of the podcast to be a neutral service as much as possible. But people regularly ask me for more guidance in which f/f historicals I’d recommend, so I’m trying out a new service on the Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast’s Patreon, where I provide micro-reviews based on preview excerpts. If you’d like to opt in to that sort of content, the Patreon link is in the show notes. Please keep in mind that this is the LHMP Patreon, not the TLT Patreon and these micro-reviews are not in any way affiliated with TLT or with The Lesbian Review.

I start off with a couple of December books and then the rest are coming out in January.

The first title is in competition for the earliest setting in my database: Where There Are Mountains self-published by Sarah Pearlman. The story is inspired by an archaeological find of a grave with two female skeletons embracing.

5000 BCE. Seven thousand years ago. A time of great migrations that took place over hundreds of years and thousands of miles as numerous tribes fled the cold and hunger of their northern homeland to travel a path south. Most were peaceful, wanting only a place where there was food and warmth—struggling past tribes that lived near Mount Olympus and the mountain passes of what would become Hellas. Greece. A matrilineal people that worshiped a female divinity. Celebrating and giving gratitude for the fertility of the land, the birthing of children, and sexual pleasure. Desire without rules. Others on the path were warrior people. Tribes who came to conquer and enslave. Bringing their male gods.

Clara's Way self-published by Roberta R. Carr is one of those books that only hints at sapphic content and I haven’t been able to get solid confirmation.

The year is 1904. Nurse Clara Tyler happily spends her days tending patients in rural Ohio. Her brother, who is working in Panama on the great canal, informs the family he must return home due to illness. Too sick to travel alone, he begs Clara to come and get him. Anxious about going but determined to save her brother, Clara makes her way to the Canal Zone. She is quickly drawn into a web of heartbreak, controversy, and friendship that keeps her there. When her father demands she return, Clara must decide where she belongs in this gripping tale about love and loss, courage, and the unexpected paths that shape our lives.

The next book is rather tenuous on the historic front, being a secondary world fantasy, but inspired by a gender-flipped version of Shakespeare’s Henry IV. Lady Hotspur by Tessa Gratton from Tor Books. Whether you count it as a historical or not, I suspect it will be of interest to readers who like historicals.

STRIKE FAST, LOVE HARD, LIVE FOREVER This is the motto of the Lady Knights―sworn to fealty under a struggling kingdom, promised to defend the prospective heir, Banna Mora. But when a fearsome rebellion overthrows the throne, Mora is faced with an agonizing choice: give up everything she’s been raised to love, and allow a king-killer to be rewarded―or retake the throne, and take up arms against the newest heir, Hal Bolingbrooke, Mora’s own childhood best friend and sworn head of the Lady Knights. Hal loathes being a Prince; she’s much more comfortable instated on the Throne of Misrule, a raucous underground nether-court where passion rules all. She yearns to live up to the wishes of everyone she loves best―but that means sacrificing her own heart, and so she will disappoint everyone until the moment she can rise to prove those expectations wrong. And between these two fierce Princes is the woman who will decide all their fates―Lady Hotspur Persy, the fiery and bold knight whose support will turn the tides of the coming war.

A couple months ago I commented on what seemed like a flood of f/f Robin Hood stories in my forthcoming books spreadsheet. This month’s contribution is Nottingham by Anna Burke from Bywater Books.

Robyn Hood didn’t set out to rob the rich, but in Nottingham, nothing ever goes according to plan. . . . After a fateful hunting accident sends her on the run from the law, Robyn finds herself deep in the heart of Sherwood Forest. All she really wants to do is provide for her family and stay out of trouble, but when the Sheriff of Nottingham levies the largest tax in the history of England, she’s forced to take matters into her own hands. Relying on the help of her band of merry women and the Sheriff’s intriguing—and off limits—daughter, Marian, Robyn must find a way to pull off the biggest heist Sherwood has ever seen. With both heart and freedom at stake, just how much will she risk to ensure the safety of the ones she loves?

This next book combines some interesting cross-time tropes with the paranormal. Spellbound by Jackie D. and Jean Copeland from Bold Strokes Books.

Hazel Abbot spent her whole life unaware she was a witch. When a spell thrusts her great-aunt Sarah Hutchinson forward from the Salem witch trials of 1692 and lands her in Hazel’s bookstore, everything Hazel thought she knew about herself changes. Complicating matters, Raven Dare, a supernatural hunter, informs her that they’ve all been summoned by the Queen Witch, Morgan le Fay. Morgan compels Hazel, Sarah, and Raven to correct the shift in the realms of good and evil by ridding the world of the evil that followed Sarah into modern day. If they fail, the forces of white magic will be extinguished forever. But completing the perilous mission, convincing Sarah to return to Puritan life, and resisting their growing attraction for each other might prove more difficult than Hazel and Raven ever anticipated.

For this next book, I had to poke around a little but was able to confirm that it definitely has queer elements, although I have no idea how it all comes out in the end. The Companion by Kim Taylor Blakemore from Lake Union Publishing

1855, New Hampshire. Lucy Blunt is set to hang for a double murder. Murderess or victim? Only Lucy knows the truth. In the shadow of the gallows, Lucy reflects on the events that led to her bitter downfall—from the moment she arrived at the rambling Burton mansion looking for work and a better life to the grisly murders themselves. In a mysterious household of locked doors and forbidden affections, Lucy slips comfortably into the shadows, where she believes the indiscretions of her past will remain hidden. But when Lucy’s rising status becomes a threat to the mistress’s current companion, the delicate balance of power and loyalty begins to shift, setting into motion a brewing storm of betrayal, suspicion, and rage. Now, with her execution looming closer, Lucy’s allies fight to have her sentence overturned as the tale she’s spinning nears its conclusion. But how much of her story can we trust? After all, Lucy’s been known to bend the truth…

Similarly to the previous, I was able to get confirmation that despite the somewhat ambiguous cover copy, Blood Countess by Lana Popovic from Amulet Books definitely has queer content. This appears to be a purely historical take on Countess Báthory and not a supernatural one.

In 17th century Hungary, Anna Darvulia has just begun working as a scullery maid for the young and glamorous Countess Elizabeth Báthory. When Elizabeth takes a liking to Anna, she’s vaulted to the dream role of chambermaid, a far cry from the filthy servants’ quarters below. She receives wages generous enough to provide for her family, and the Countess begins to groom Anna as her friend and confidante. It’s not long before Anna falls completely under the Countess’s spell—and the Countess takes full advantage. Isolated from her former friends, family, and fiancé, Anna realizes she’s not a friend but a prisoner of the increasingly cruel Elizabeth. Then come the murders, and Anna knows it’s only a matter of time before the Blood Countess turns on her, too.

What Am I Reading?

So what am I reading? After last month’s reading extravaganza, this month was a lot slower. I’ve been reading different books on three different ebook apps: Claire O’Dell’s A Jewel Bright Sea on my phone, my own newest novel Floodtide while testing new ebook apps since iBooks isn’t playing nicely with non-Apple epub files, and in iBooks itself a non-fiction book Romancing the Beat: Story Structure for Romance Novels by Gwen Hayes. I have some thoughts on that last one, because I find that romance novels that follow the structure she promotes as the One True Romance Way fail to work well for me at precisely the points where they adhere most closely to her formula. I may blog about that.

Stat of the Publishing Field

The rest of the podcast is going to be doing some intense numbers geeking about trends in f/f historicals in the past year. If you’re a numbers geek like me, I strongly suggest following the link in the show notes to the transcript of this podcast so you can follow along in print. If you’re not a numbers geek, then I won’t feel the least bit insulted if you skip the rest of this episode. Really. It’s ok. Because if you aren’t a numbers geek, this is going to be really boring.

Last year, I did a separate episode that took my ongoing database of relevant historical fiction and did something of a survey of the field and comparing 2018 to what had come before. It’s a very rough analysis because my data is far from complete, especially for older titles. But now that I’ve had two years of scouring the new releases for historicals featuring queer women, I can start making some sort of comparisons for the current state of the field. I’m alternating between grouping the books based on which year I mentioned them on the podcast and publication date so not all the numbers will match. As usual, I can only talk about the books I know about, and I include historic fantasy as long as the setting is in some way identifiable by time and place.

The numbers of books mentioned on the pocast this year and last are roughly similar 101 in 2019 compared to 83 last year. When you look at date of publication, the groups are essentially identical, around a hundred in both cases.

Let’s start with basic publishing info. This year, 40% of the books were self-published, including through Amazon Digital, while the other 60% had a named publisher. In some cases the named publisher is a one-author imprint, so they’re functionally self-published, but this would take some work to sort out. This year’s 40% figure compares to 20% self-published last year. I suspect this isn’t a true change, but rather a reflection of me getting better at searching for relevant books on Amazon, and thus identifying more Amazon-published books, rather than needing to hear about them through other channels.

Of the books with named publishers, there were 49 different publishers for the 2019 books, but 80% of those publishers only had a single title on the list. This compares very closely with 2018 when I found 46 different publishers and 75% with only a single title. Statistically equivalent.

2018:

  • 83 books, 20% self-published
  • 46 named publishers, 75% with only one title

2019

  • 101 books, 40% self-published
  • 49 named publishers, 80% with only one title

So for publishers who put out more than one title, that leaves us with 10 publishers in 2019 and 12 in 2018. Five publishers met the threshold both years. This included two mainstream presses (Harper Collins and Tor.com) and three small presses (Bella Books, Bold Strokes Books, and Sapphire Books). Bold Strokes was the clear leader in 2018 with 8 historic titles, but dropped to only 2 titles in 2019. The other publishers held steady in the 2-3 titles range. Five publishers had 2 titles this year after not meeting the threshold last year, while 8 publishers met the threshold last year but not this year.

Publishers with >1 title both years

  • Bold Strokes Books: 2018 - 8, 2019 - 2
  • Bella Books: 2018 - 3, 2019 2
  • Sapphire Books: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 3
  • Harper Collins: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 2
  • Tor.com: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 2

Moved up into >1

  • Bywater Books: 2018 - 0, 2019 - 2
  • Illustrated Romance: 2018 - 0, 2019 - 2
  • Manifold Press: 2018 - 0, 2019 - 2
  • Nine-Star Press: 2018 - 0, 2019 - 2
  • Supposed Crimes: 2018 - 1, 2019 - 2

Moved down from >1

  • Harlequin Teen: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 0
  • Less Than Three: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 0
  • Little, Brown and Company: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 0
  • LZ Media: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 0
  • Regal Crest Enterprises: 2018 - 3, 2019 - 1
  • Sans Merci Press: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 0
  • Shadoe Publishing: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 1
  • Three Bunny Farm: 2018 - 2, 2019 - 0

I’m hesitant to draw any large conclusions since the numbers we’re dealing with are small, but overall it feels like a slight contraction in the market. What the publisher numbers don’t tell you is one striking trend, which is for historic romance authors who have already made a name for themselves writing m/f or m/m historicals taking on an f/f project. Writers like Cat Sebastian, Olivia Waite, Courtney Milan, and K.J. Charles. Two of them publish with mainstream presses and two are self-published.

Another way to look at the data is to take a set of 8 small lesfic presses as an index, based on long-term presence in the field and current activity in lesfic in general. For this index I use Affinity, Bella, Bold Strokes, Bywater, Regal Crest, Sapphire, Spinsters Ink, and Ylva. They’re also useful because I can check their back catalogs and be fairly confident that I haven’t missed much. If you look at the total number of historicals put out year by year from this index group, it’s averaging barely over 12 books per year for the last half dozen years, with fewer earlier than that. The numbers fluctuate a bit year to year, but not enough to show a current trend up or down.

Total books published by the index group

  • 2019: 11
  • 2018: 16
  • 2017: 8
  • 2016: 13
  • 2015: 15
  • 2014: 13
  • 2013: 10
  • 2012: 6
  • 2011: 5
  • 2010: 4

One clear conclusion that I also mentioned last year is how diffused f/f historicals are throughout the publishing landscape. There is no one publisher or even group of publishers that a reader can rely on to find f/f historicals. And, conversely, there are no f/f publishers who focus on historicals sufficiently to build up a reputation and expertise in the field. One of the things that became clear from the buzz around the mainstream writers entering this genre is that there are a lot of readers out there who would like more well-written f/f historical romances, but that they have no idea how to find them except from their existing social media networks. I keep hoping that this podcast will fill at least some part of that need.

So those are the dry numbers in terms of who’s putting out books. How about settings and themes? This is where I really have fun crunching the numbers! But outside of statistics, some impressions include clusters of Robin Hood retellings, highwaywoman adventures, the usual popularity of Regency romances, but less focus on the US Civil War and wild west settings. The two world wars continue to be a popular setting, but this year the period between them is fairly well populated as well. Now for the details.

The emphasis on stories set in the 19th and 20th centuries is identical to last year’s with about 80% of stories being set in the last two centuries. Earlier settings aren’t quite so badly skewed to the early modern period this year. About equal numbers are set in the medieval-to-Renaissance period as in the 17th and 18th centuries, with a smaller number set even before that, mostly in classical Greece or Rome.

Stories with New World settings are all in the 19-20th century group--no colonial period or Revolutionary War stories. Half the pre-19th century stories are set in the British Isles, which is also similar to last year, and British settings still dominate the early 19th century due to the popularity of the Regency. But this year The British Isles hold their own against American settings from the mid-19th to mid-20th century. This may be related to seeing fewer Civil War and Wild West settings.

Other than those two geographic juggernauts, where are stories being set? About a quarter of the stories have a primary setting that falls outside the US or Great Britain plus Ireland. But this is down from about a third last year. The US settings have also dropped from around 50% to around 40% and it’s been the British settings that have made up the difference. Non-US non-British settings are primarily European, especially France and Germany, with single representatives from the Caribbean, Uruguay, Japan, and Malaysia (which last has much of the action in England).

Looking at the US settings in more detail, we see a drop in stories set in the South (possibly related to the drop in Civil War settings) but otherwise similar regional proportions. I was able to identify 11 specific states in the cover copy, compared to 18 last year, and California edged out Texas for second place after New York this year.

I’ve been trying to do some coding in my database to track things such as whether books are strict history or have fantastic elements, whether they can be classified as romance in a broad sense, whether they have cross-time motifs, and what the sexual content is. Unfortunately this can be difficult when I’m only working from cover copy, so most of those aspects will need to wait until I have some way of crowd-sourcing data. But the question of fantasy elements is relatively easy to identify. Despite my delight at some of the great historic fantasy I’ve been reading, stories with fantasy elements have actually dropped somewhat from 27% last year to 20% this year, though the number of titles where the classification isn’t clear could easily erase that difference.

So there’s my take on the year in f/f historic fiction. I’d be interested in knowing what trends and patterns you’ve been seeing as readers. If you’d like to talk about the f/f historicals you’re enjoying, I’m always looking for people to contribute to my book appreciation interviews. Drop me a note.


Show Notes

Your monthly update on what the Lesbian Historic Motif Project has been doing.

In this episode we talk about:

Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online

Links to Heather Online

Major category: 
LHMP
Friday, January 3, 2020 - 08:00

Given that I'm posting this last installment on Boswell's Same-Sex Unions at the same time as I'm reading and writing up Foucault's History of Sexuality, I can't help but make some comparisons between the two presentations. In both cases, the authors are presenting a specific take on a field of historic study that is susceptible of widely varied interpretations. Boswell is a historian while Foucault is a philosopher, but both purport to be dealing with historic observations and practices in their analysis. Whatever one may think of Boswell's suggested conclusions, he backs them up with a vast array of primary documentation, often in the original languages as well as in translation. If you want to challenge his ideas, he provides you with the materials to start on your own analysis. Foucault barely cites his sources, rarely in a way that makes it easy to follow up on where his ideas are coming from. Both men (and I emphasize men) purport to be addressing general human experiences, but in fact are narrowly concerned with the experiences of men, and typically of men's experiences in contexts where women are irrelevant or are mere props to the male experience. Boswell acknowledges this and offers apologies. Foucault doesn't quite seem to realize that this might be a problem. On (re)reading these texts, it's easy to see why Boswell's work stirred up energetic discussion and strong reactions. It is less easy for me to see why people treat Foucault's work as ground-breaking and of vast importance to the field. Maybe this is because I'm solidly entrenched in a historian's view of the pursuit of "truth". Maybe isn't an irritated reaction to feeling that Foucault doesn't really seem to consider women to be a relevant part of the pursuit of "truth", either as active agents or as topics. That a masculine truth can be considered universal. Maybe I feel let down by the contrast in the shadow Foucault has cast across the history of sexualtiy and the apparent thinness of the substance. (Who knows, maybe volume 3 will be bursting with brilliant insights that will change my mind.)

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Boswell, John. 1994. Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe. Villard Books, New York. ISBN 0-679-43228-0

Chapter 7 & 8, Epilogue & Appendices

These next two chapters feel like a bit of a random grab-bag, where Boswell included any sort of formal same-sex bond that he could include evidence for. As evidence for the general cultural acceptance of formal same-sex bonds, it’s a useful resource. But there seems to be an implication of cultural continuity between all of the examples, and I’m less convinced of that based on the evidence presented.

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

Given that I'm posting this last installment on Boswell's Same-Sex Unions at the same time as I'm reading and writing up Foucault's History of Sexuality, I can't help but make some comparisons between the two presentations. In both cases, the authors are presenting a specific take on a field of historic study that is susceptible of widely varied interpretations. Boswell is a historian while Foucault is a philosopher, but both purport to be dealing with historic observations and practices in their analysis. Whatever one may think of Boswell's suggested conclusions, he backs them up with a vast array of primary documentation, often in the original languages as well as in translation. If you want to challenge his ideas, he provides you with the materials to start on your own analysis. Foucault barely cites his sources, rarely in a way that makes it easy to follow up on where his ideas are coming from. Both men (and I emphasize men) purport to be addressing general human experiences, but in fact are narrowly concerned with the experiences of men, and typically of men's experiences in contexts where women are irrelevant or are mere props to the male experience. Boswell acknowledges this and offers apologies. Foucault doesn't quite seem to realize that this might be a problem. On (re)reading these texts, it's easy to see why Boswell's work stirred up energetic discussion and strong reactions. It is less easy for me to see why people treat Foucault's work as ground-breaking and of vast importance to the field. Maybe this is because I'm solidly entrenched in a historian's view of the pursuit of "truth". Maybe isn't an irritated reaction to feeling that Foucault doesn't really seem to consider women to be a relevant part of the pursuit of "truth", either as active agents or as topics. That a masculine truth can be considered universal. Maybe I feel let down by the contrast in the shadow Foucault has cast across the history of sexuality and the apparent thinness of the substance. (Who knows, maybe volume 3 will be bursting with brilliant insights that will change my mind.)

# # #

Chapter 7: The History of Same-Sex Unions in Medieval Europe

The history of actual performance of same-sex unions is harder to trace than the textual history of the liturgies and the visual history of depictions of same-sex couples. Question: to what extent are same-sex union ceremonies a carryover of pagan unions (e.g., Roman fraternal adoption) versus a new (and perhaps specifically Christian?) concept?

There are legal discussion of restraint on adoptive brotherhood that assigned mutual property rights when there was a wife and/or child involved (who would otherwise be the primary heir). References to adoptive brotherhood imply that it was created by a written contract.There are regular Byzantine references to same-sex partners (adelphopoietos) of prominent men. (Detailed discussion of examples of known same-sex pairs.)

When there are prohibitions on specific types of same-sex pairs or for particular types of men to engage in same-sex bonds, these are similar to the context in which male-female bonds are forbidden, e.g., for monks or unions between clergy and lay people. Same-sex unions might also be prohibited between persons within the same degree of relationship that would bar male-female marriage.

There is a discussion of penances for specific types of sexual behavior, including same-sex practices (finally including some more female examples). The context is that same-sex acts are not specially singled out for prohibition.

Various Slavic historical accounts mention male-male unions (sometimes in contexts where the participants were also in male-female marriages), treating them as ordinary practice. These unions regularly assume emotional closeness as a motivating factor.

Examples are presented of some surviving contracts of brotherhood from Western Europe dating to the 8-12th centuries. There is also a description of an Irish ritual (mentioned previously) recorded by Gerald of Wales that he specifically compares to marriage, though in a derogatory fashion. It involves some features similar to the Eastern ceremonies but also includes blood-sharing which isn’t a feature of the liturgical unions. [Note: This is the case I mentioned above where I feel there is insufficient evidence to conclude a continuous unified tradition, as opposed to an independent and specifically Irish tradition that possibly borrowed some elements from marriage ceremonies.]

Chapter 8: Subsequent Developments

From the 14th century on, Europe was preoccupied with a negative view of homosexuality as the worst imaginable sin. Same-sex union rites disappeared during this period where this feeling predominated. In some cases, there is evidence that the texts for same-sex rites were physically removed form existing codexes. There continue to be references to same-sex union rites in the 16-17th century that include an expectation that they were sexual in nature.

But beside this, there are also examples where same-sex union ceremonies were viewed (at least by the local culture) as positive. Examples are given from Dalmatia of a living tradition of “sworn brotherhood or sisterhood”, including a specific eyewitness account of two young women celebrating their union in church in the early 17th century. In Eastern liturgical collections, there continue to be references to same-sex unions being compared to marriage. And in Ottoman-dominated areas in the 16-17th century, there are references to the complications of same-sex unions across religious lines, similar to concerns over marriages across religious lines.

Boswell provides a number of more modern and/or anthropological examples of same-sex unions, all male-male. In general these unions are not viewed as primarily erotic, but are recognized as having erotic potential. He asserts that “artificial sibling relationships occur less commonly between females” without questioning whether this is an accurate demographic observation or simply an imbalance in the documentary evidence. There is a discussion of popular/folk understandings of “blood brothers” and how both the reality and the mythology differ from formal same-sex unions. He speculates on the possibility that the Albanian tradition of cross-gender “sworn virgins” might be relatable to same-sex unions, but provides no evidence.

Epilogue

The epilogue lays out the basic facts of the same-sex union ceremonies.

Appendices

The appendices provide translations and in some cases the original texts of same-sex union ceremonies, alongside some of the male-female ceremonies from the same documents for comparison. Several other topics are present in appendices: Jewish perspectives, a list of relevant manuscripts, the Life of Saints Serge and Bacchus.

Place: 
Thursday, January 2, 2020 - 07:00

One of the fascinating aspects of the development of (western) marriage as a socio-religious-legal structure is the extent to which it derived legitimacy from symbolic performative acts by the parties to the marriage. (Those parties might be only the two people getting married, or their families might be considered "parties to the marriage" with required actions. It depended.) If the correct set of things were said and done (with "the correct set" altering over time and by local culture) then one was married. The idea that an external authority had the right to determine whether or not a marriage existed was rather late in developing. If a man and a woman of appropriate age and with no pre-existing impediments made a present-tense statement of consent to marry, that could (in some places/times) be sufficient to create the fact of marriage.

The requirement that it be "a man and a woman" was, to a large extent, an implcit rather than explicit pre-requisite.

This symbolic/performative aspect of the creation of the married state is what Boswell is focusing on in the current section. Because if you have a union between two people of the same sex that uses the same core set of performative acts as is used for m/f marriage (though perhaps not always the full set of performative acts), what is it that makes the two resulting unions qualitatively different? (As opposed to different in secondary consequences, such as those involving descendents and inheritance.) If we're going to say that a ceremony of adelphopoiesis between two men--which uses the same language and symbolism as a marriage--is not a marriage, wherein lies the difference except in the self-referential definition by gender?

This is where a broader study in time and gender could benefit from looking at the self-developed ceremonies of union that women created together in more recent times--ceremonies that deliberately invoked the performative acts of marriage such as an exchange of rings and vows. One big difference is that those f/f ceremonies belong largely to an era where state (or church) approval of a union had become required for it to be a marriage. It isn't necessary to have an absolute legal prohibition on two people of the same sex marrying if one has a social understanding that the state or the church will refuse to record such a union as a marriage, as long as the act of recording the marriage has taken over as the "performative act." To continue my theme of tying this book in with the marriage equality movement in the USA, this state gate-keeping function became a key aspect. If there is no explicit prohibition on the state recording a marriage between two persons of the same sex--because it was expected that the implicit social prohibition needed no additional back-up--then how can it be invalid for a duly appointed official of the state to upend everything by simply choosing to "open the gate"? When Gavin Newsom, as mayer of San Francisco, directed government officials to record same-sex unions as marriages, opponents scrambled to identify some other means of putting a lock on the gate that they hadn't expected anyone to open.

In 18th century England, there are more than a few marriage registers that record either the marriage of two persons with female names, the marriage of two persons who were later determined to be both female (or where the recorded noted a belief that both were female), or the refusal to record a marriage for a couple where it was believed that both were female. (See Donoghue 1996 ch. 2) Setting aside the question (which would have been legally irrelevant at the time) of couples involving a woman and a trans man, under what legal context would a properly recorded marriage of this type be valid? Under what pretext would it be invalidated? When additional information is available on specific cases (such as the late 17th century marriage between Amy Poulter and Arabella Hunt) it is curious that the "obvious" argument that a marriage of two women could not possibly be valid was not necessarily used. (In the case of Poulter and Hunt, the marriage was declared invalid because Poulter was already married at the time and it was therefore bigamy, which certainly suggests that the women's marriage could have been valid otherwise. Though one suspects another ruse would have been found to invalidate it.)

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Boswell, John. 1994. Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe. Villard Books, New York. ISBN 0-679-43228-0

Chapter 5 & 6

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

One of the fascinating aspects of the development of (western) marriage as a socio-religious-legal structure is the extent to which it derived legitimacy from symbolic performative acts by the parties to the marriage. (Those parties might be only the two people getting married, or their families might be considered "parties to the marriage" with required actions. It depended.) If the correct set of things were said and done (with "the correct set" altering over time and by local culture) then one was married. The idea that an external authority had the right to determine whether or not a marriage existed was rather late in developing. If a man and a woman of appropriate age and with no pre-existing impediments made a present-tense statement of consent to marry, that could (in some places/times) be sufficient to create the fact of marriage.

The requirement that it be "a man and a woman" was, to a large extent, an implicit rather than explicit pre-requisite.

This symbolic/performative aspect of the creation of the married state is what Boswell is focusing on in the current section. Because if you have a union between two people of the same sex that uses the same core set of performative acts as is used for m/f marriage (though perhaps not always the full set of performative acts), what is it that makes the two resulting unions qualitatively different? (As opposed to different in secondary consequences, such as those involving descendents and inheritance.) If we're going to say that a ceremony of adelphopoiesis between two men--which uses the same language and symbolism as a marriage--is not a marriage, wherein lies the difference except in the self-referential definition by gender?

This is where a broader study in time and gender could benefit from looking at the self-developed ceremonies of union that women created together in more recent times--ceremonies that deliberately invoked the performative acts of marriage such as an exchange of rings and vows. One big difference is that those f/f ceremonies belong largely to an era where state (or church) approval of a union had become required for it to be a marriage. It isn't necessary to have an absolute legal prohibition on two people of the same sex marrying if one has a social understanding that the state or the church will refuse to record such a union as a marriage, as long as the act of recording the marriage has taken over as the "performative act." To continue my theme of tying this book in with the marriage equality movement in the USA, this state gate-keeping function became a key aspect. If there is no explicit prohibition on the state recording a marriage between two persons of the same sex--because it was expected that the implicit social prohibition needed no additional back-up--then how can it be invalid for a duly appointed official of the state to upend everything by simply choosing to "open the gate"? When Gavin Newsom, as mayer of San Francisco, directed government officials to record same-sex unions as marriages, opponents scrambled to identify some other means of putting a lock on the gate that they hadn't expected anyone to open.

In 18th century England, there are more than a few marriage registers that record either the marriage of two persons with female names, the marriage of two persons who were later determined to be both female (or where the recorded noted a belief that both were female), or the refusal to record a marriage for a couple where it was believed that both were female. (See Donoghue 1996 ch. 2) Setting aside the question (which would have been legally irrelevant at the time) of couples involving a woman and a trans man, under what legal context would a properly recorded marriage of this type be valid? Under what pretext would it be invalidated? When additional information is available on specific cases (such as the late 17th century marriage between Amy Poulter and Arabella Hunt) it is curious that the "obvious" argument that a marriage of two women could not possibly be valid was not necessarily used. (In the case of Poulter and Hunt, the marriage was declared invalid because Poulter was already married at the time and it was therefore bigamy, which certainly suggests that the women's marriage could have been valid otherwise. Though one suspects another ruse would have been found to invalidate it.)
# # #

Chapter 5: The Development of Nuptial Offices

Before 1000, priestly blessing of a marriage was an optional favor. Its absence (or refusal) didn’t make the marriage invalid. There was no standard form for this blessing. It was only considered an expected part of the ceremony for the clergy (priests could marry until the 11th century). Often the blessing was only for the bride, not for the couple as a unit.

Though various themes developed earlier, not until the 12th century did a systematic canon law of marriage develop. One feature (not always previously present) was the expressed consent of both parties. The Eastern church had been more active in oversight of marriage at an earlier date, as part of a greater overall involvement of the church in state affairs. But church involvement was still not required for a valid marriage if mutual consent were exchanged.

In local practice, other symbols besides the statement of consent might be used in the marriage contract, such as the transfer of a dowry and ritual abduction. Concubinage was still a recognized arrangement. But by the 12th century, the concept was developing that marriage should arise out of love, rather than love being a later consequence. The hypothetical Christian prohibition on divorce did not prevent it from being accepted up through the early medieval period.

Specific religious ceremonies for unions arose first in the East. An 8th century set of religious offices (i.e., rituals) includes one for male-female betrothal, two for male-female marriage, and one for “uniting” a male-male pair. The offices include similar structures and wording. (There is a detailed discussion of this comparison.)

The male-male ceremony invoked archetypal male pairs such as saints Serge and Bacchus and uses the language of “brothers.” Boswell reminds us of the examples of fraternal language being used for male-female married pairs.

There are seven other known pre-12th century examples of same-sex union ceremonies, mostly from Eastern sources. Many more are known beginning in the 12th century and tapering off slightly in the 13-14th century, with a resurgence in the 15-16th centuries. [Note: I didn’t notice any discussion of overall statistics for manuscript production across this period, so it’s hard to know whether these fluctuations are driven by the specific content or by overall patterns in manuscript culture.]

Most of these texts are in Greek, a few in Slavic liturgical languages, and none in Latin even though there is some evidence that similar ceremonies were performed in the West. [Note: Boswell specifically adduces an Irish example as support for “performed in the West” but I have questions about whether that example--discussed below--is clearly part of the same liturgical tradition as opposed to a similar but distinct local tradition.]

With the shift to printing in the 17th century, these same-sex rituals were rarely included in new versions of existing liturgical collections. In some cases, when included, it was noted that their use was forbidden.

Over the course of the textual tradition, the ceremony evolved from a simple set of prayers to an elaborate ceremony that could include candles, the joining and binding of hands, covering the heads with a stole, prayer, communion, a kiss, and circling the altar together.

There is a discussion of the manuscript contexts and philosophical questions about the nature and purpose of the ceremony. There is a consideration of theories and arguments about what these ceremonies don’t represent.

Chapter 6: Comparison of Same-Sex and Heterosexual Ceremonies of Union

This chapter does a detailed “compare and contrast” of the structure and features of Christian male-female marriage ceremonies and the same-sex union ceremonies in these liturgical collections. Both include an appeal to “peace and love (agape)” that is taken from the language of “Apostolic peace.” Both can include the symbolism of crowning. This is a common marriage symbol in Eastern ceremonies for male-female couples and is also seen for pairs of saints and martyrs. Both sets of rituals can include a prayer over a common cup that the couple drink from. This was not originally related to the taking of communion.

The same-sex union litany can include:

  • An opening invocation similar to that for male-female marriage.
  • The two stand hand in hand at the altar (similar to m/f)
  • They are bound together using a stole or veil similar to m/f)
  • They are crowned (similar to m/f)
  • There is a feast after the ritual (similar to m/f)
  • They circle the altar together (similar to m/f)
  • They join right hands (similar to m/f)

Crowning was  originally part of the betrothal ceremony and was only shifted to the marriage ceremony later. It was less common in same-sex rites while the taking of communion together was less common in male-female rites.

A banquet was a common follower for all manner of formal ceremonies, though it was rarely mentioned specifically in the ritual for either type. (More often it is mentioned in descriptions of specific union ceremonies.)

After sharing the common cup, the priest leads the couple around the altar three times. This does not appear in the earliest rites but was common both types by the end of the Middle Ages.

Use of a symbolic cross and ring are common in male-female ceremonies but not for same-sex ones. More rare in both (and with uncertain purpose) was the presence of an unsheathed sword.

A key element in both types of ceremony was the joining of right hands, which derives from pre-Christian Roman practice. By the Middle Ages, the joining of right hands has become the primary iconic symbol of the act of marriage and appears frequently in both sacred and secular art.

Same-sex rituals do not mention rings and do not include a ritual expression of consent, but this is not common in male-female rituals either until the 12th century.

The Biblical passages specified to be read during the ceremony are different for the two types of rituals, although there is some overlap.

Systematic studies of medieval heterosexual marriage ceremonies have identified two recurring symbols, not all of which are necessarily present. Some relate specifically to dowry/bride-price and thus would not be expected to be included in a same-sex ceremony. Those elements that are regularly present in both are: joining hands, joining with the veil/stole, a kiss, a feast.

Place: 
Wednesday, January 1, 2020 - 07:00

In chapter 4, the polemical nature of this book becomes most evident. In tracing the development of Christian attitudes toward--and forms of--marriage, Boswell’s through-line is that there is no logical way to integrate Christian approaches to heterosexual marriage with a blanket prohibition on same-sex marriage. Some of the criticism of both this book and CST&H are that both books feel too much like a supplicant begging for acceptance, thinking that if only the right logical argument were offered, Christianity would suddenly realize, “OMG, we’ve been wrong all along! We’re so sorry! We’ll stop persecuting gays now!” But religious doctrine has never been logically consistent, even when it uses the trappings of logic and philosophy. Similar criticisms were made of Bernadette Brooten’s work on female same-sex love in the early Christian era, with the additional critique that Brooten sometimes seems to throw gay men under the bus in arguing that scripture-based arguments really only applied to exploitive age-differentiated male-male relations and not to cozy, love-based female-female ones. I exaggerate, of course. But both authors were working from a place of desiring acceptance within a religious context that they were deeply emotionally invested in. And that colored how they presented their arguments.

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Boswell, John. 1994. Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe. Villard Books, New York. ISBN 0-679-43228-0

Chapter 4

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

In chapter 4, the polemical nature of this book becomes most evident. In tracing the development of Christian attitudes toward--and forms of--marriage, Boswell’s through-line is that there is no logical way to integrate Christian approaches to heterosexual marriage with a blanket prohibition on same-sex marriage. Some of the criticism of both this book and CST&H are that both books feel too much like a supplicant begging for acceptance, thinking that if only the right logical argument were offered, Christianity would suddenly realize, “OMG, we’ve been wrong all along! We’re so sorry! We’ll stop persecuting gays now!” But religious doctrine has never been logically consistent, even when it uses the trappings of logic and philosophy. Similar criticisms were made of Bernadette Brooten’s work on female same-sex love in the early Christian era, with the additional critique that Brooten sometimes seems to throw gay men under the bus in arguing that scripture-based arguments really only applied to exploitive age-differentiated male-male relations and not to cozy, love-based female-female ones. I exaggerate, of course. But both authors were working from a place of desiring acceptance within a religious context that they were deeply emotionally invested in. And that colored how they presented their arguments.

# # #

Chapter 4: Views of the New Religion

The rise of Christianity in Europe was not the driver of changes in sexual and romantic relations that we often imagine it was. The most significant changes--such as the predominance of monogamy and the expectation of sexual fidelity between married partners--either were already i process or were not closely tied to core Christian teachings.

Christian ascetic ideals got a lot of attention, but were not embraced by the majority. The ascetic ideals, however, meant the church took a long time to focus on marriage as being within the scope of clerical interest. Marriage wasn’t proclaimed a sacrament and therefore an act that required church involvement until 1215. The official position was that the best excuse for marriage was to avoid fornication, and the only acceptable purpose for sex was procreation. These grudging allowances colored Christian attitudes to other types of unions and erotic activities.

At the same time, the language and symbolism of marriage were transferred to other institutions and relationships, such as the Christ-church relationship and the image of dedicated virgins as “brides of Christ.” Another transfer of relational terminology and concepts was fraternal imagery for relations based on affection or common purpose. Thus all Christians were “brothers and sisters” in a sense. This produced conflicts of imagery with respect to marriage (contradicting anti-incest concepts) though in another sense it followed some older traditions that had treated marriage as a type of “collateral adoption”, turning a wife into a sister.

The chapter explores other examples of both marital and fraternal imagery in the Old and New Testaments. Examples of same-sex bonds in that imagery include David & Jonathan, Ruth & Naomi, Jesus & John.

Post-Biblical same-sex pairs featured in Christian iconography include the martyr saints Perpetua and Felicitas (who were in an owner-slave relation). Their story places an emphasis on their status as mothers, each having an infant at the time of their martyrdom, but there is no mention in the legend of a husband for Perpetua. (As a slave, Felicitas would not necessarily be expected to have a spouse.)

Male pairs described in the language of brotherly/fraternal bonds incude the saints Serge and Bacchus who were martyred as a bonded pair. The chapter includes a discussion of the language and symbolism used in depicting these paired martyrs.

Place: 
Tuesday, December 31, 2019 - 07:00

While re-reading this chapter for the blog, I had a lot of flashbacks to the period after 2008 when California (my home state) first legalized same-sex marriage, then took it away under a ballot proposition, then ruled against the results of the proposition in the state supreme court, then waited for the parallel US Supreme Court decision that legalized same-sex marriage throughout the USA. The fight isn't over--we are seeing how easy it is for rights to be eroded, roadblocked, or de facto reversed under a hostile regime. Through all that period, there was the constant wave of frustration at how the "one man + one woman" crowd were unable to come up with a coherent logical argument for their model as the sole valid one. I read through the arguments before the California Supreme Court in detail and they rehearse a lot of points similar to what Boswell explores in this chapter -- the long duration of constantly shifting concepts that is "marriage" which has never aligned with the supposed ideal that marriage-conservatives claim to support.

I have a novel outline (one of my few near-contemporary ideas) in which one subplot involves that process in California and the emotional whiplash that potential access to same-sex marriage created. I still remember vividly the day the CA Supreme Court decision was announced (before Prop 8 snatched it away again, temporarily) and that overwhelming euphoria of, "If I had a girlfriend and we wanted to spend our lives together, today we could get married. Just like anyone else." And however I may nitpick aspects of Boswell's gender-blindness in Same-Sex Unions, I'm pretty certain that this book was a major contributor to the process tha made that moment possible.

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Boswell, John. 1994. Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe. Villard Books, New York. ISBN 0-679-43228-0

Chapter 2 & 3

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

While re-reading this chapter for the blog, I had a lot of flashbacks to the period after 2008 when California (my home state) first legalized same-sex marriage, then took it away under a ballot proposition, then ruled against the results of the proposition in the state supreme court, then waited for the parallel US Supreme Court decision that legalized same-sex marriage throughout the USA. The fight isn't over--we are seeing how easy it is for rights to be eroded, roadblocked, or de facto reversed under a hostile regime. Through all that period, there was the constant wave of frustration at how the "one man + one woman" crowd were unable to come up with a coherent logical argument for their model as the sole valid one. I read through the arguments before the California Supreme Court in detail and they rehearse a lot of points similar to what Boswell explores in this chapter -- the long duration of constantly shifting concepts that is "marriage" which has never aligned with the supposed ideal that marriage-conservatives claim to support.

# # #

Chapter 2: Heterosexual Matrimony in the Greco-Roman World

This chapter explains the structures and functions of various male-female relationships, as a prelude to expanding the focus more generally. There were different types of relationships for sexual fulfillment, property contracts, and production of children.

Of these, property arrangements were the most important in upper class marriages. Marriage might also provide sexual fulfillment or companionship, but these were not the focus. Emotional bonds might happen after marriage but weren’t considered a prerequisite. There is no pre-modern heterosexual union that corresponds in attributes and expectations to the 20th century view of marriage.

The attributes and expectations of heterosexual marriage shifted and altered over time, and not unidirectionally. The properties inherited by the Christian marriage tradition were, in many ways, arbitrary rather than relating logically to Christian theology. A new form of Roman marriage was developing in the later empire that emphasized slightly more equality between the partners and the importance of female consent to the union. Some restrictions developed on the power and rights of the male partner.

Though real-life marriage contracts were very business-oriented, literature began to develop the idea that romantic love might be a spur to marriage.

This chapter discusses four basic types of heterosexual union, including marriage, concubinage, and ownership. [Note: despite the reference to “four types” I couldn’t find a clear list of what the four were.]

Chapter 3: Same-Sex Unions in the Greco-Roman World

In the same period covered by the preceding chapter, there were four general types of same-sex relationships roughly parallel to the heterosexual unions. [Note: Of course, what this means is four types of male-male relationships. In this book and this summary, one should always understand “same-sex” as “male-male” unless specifically contradicted.] The same-sex relationships were more flexible and less legalistic. Here we’re talking about “relationships” that include sexual or romantic bonds.

As with heterosexual relationships, one form is ownership, though the sexual nature of such a relationship tends to be mentioned only in casual records. [Note: this is an example of how “same-sex” does not necessarily include female-female, as there were social and legal restrictions on whether a woman owned her slaves directly or whether they technically belonged to some male relative.]

Same-sex concubinage was similar to heterosexual concubinage in being a recognized long-term bond focused on emotional and physical relations where both parties were free. Male-male concubinage was less common than the heterosexual type, but it was not rare. There are references in poetry to how a male concubine was expected to be dismissed at his partner’s (heterosexual) marriage.

When the partners had equal social standing, something best described as “lovers” might be recognized where there was no legal tie but the partners were united by affection and desire. This is well known from Greek contexts. Modern commentary sometimes focuses on the expectation of an age difference in these relationships, but a similar age difference was expected in heterosexual relationships and the expectations for the roles played within the union were similar. But the demographics were more variable than the common stereotype for these unions. The language used for them was similar to that used for heterosexual pairs. Specific examples of male-male lovers contradict the image that the “beloved” was necessarily an adolescent.

Detailed examples are provided showing different types of relationships with examples of the language used for them. All the examples are male couples.

The fourth type is a formal union, recognized publicly and involving a change in status for one or both men. Examples are given of male-male unions in Rome that are discussed in the language of marriage, although the discussion somewhat glosses over the satirical or political context of some of these examples.

Examples of female same-sex unions are given from the Dialogues of the Courtesans [Note: I’ve reproduced a translation of the dialogue in this podcast] and Iamblichos’ story of Berenice and Mesopotamia. [Note: see this LHMP entry for the text.]

Bowell posits that same-sex “marriage” would not have been a concept before the empire with the rise of the concept of “romantic marriage”. Before that, marriage was solely an economic and dynastic arrangement. Using heterosexual models posed some problems for same-sex unions as the former presupposed unequal roles. A 4th century law forbade same-sex marriage if male-female gender roles were involved. But in some historic contexts, similar laws were promulgated against adultery and against certain types of heterosexual marriage with little evidence of enforcement.

[Note: Boswell’s point here, and in other similar passages, is to point out that the simple existence of prohibitions shouldn’t be taken as a special animus against same-sex unions, or for that matter as evidence that such unions were suppressed, when similar prohibitions existed against types of heterosexual activity that clearly continued to flourish.]

Same-sex marriages were less common in the late empire, but other types of same-sex unions became popular and were referenced in literature. These rituals included swearing pledges and ritual “abductions” similar to those used in heterosexual marriage. Examples of these are given, all male-male.

Another type of formal same-sex union was “collateral adoption” using the language of siblings. These adoptions created rights to inheritance without subjugating one party as a “child” of the other. Boswell notes that Roman law sometimes treated heterosexual marriage as a type of collateral adoption, specifically using language of the wife becoming a sister of the groom.

There is a discussion of the social understandings of “fraternal adoption” and multiple contexts in which it was used. One window on understanding its relation to marriage comes from the concept of “conubium”, that is, the right to marry a Roman citizen. In one law case involving a fraternal adoption, a concept similar to conubium was invoked to assert that a Roman citizen had no ability to enter a fraternal adoption with a non-Roman man.

Place: 
Monday, December 30, 2019 - 07:00

Like Boswell’s Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, I read this book back when it first came out and had not yet generated the intense discussion that marked its reception. (In fact, on checking the publication information, I appear to have picked up a first edition of the original hardcover.) Looking back in the context of this re-read, two things come back to me that still hold.

Firstly, although Boswell’s clear intent was to provide data for, and stimulate discussion of, the topic of same-sex marriage in modern American society, he really did frame his material very carefully and precisely. He doesn’t claim that the “same-sex union” ceremonies and customs in his research were considered marriage, or were a type of marriage. He does provide evidence that people at the time regularly compared them to marriage, as well as pointing out in great detail that many types of formal heterosexual unions, and many details of heterosexual marriage at that time, bear no relationship to our modern concept. And yet, when it first came out, so much of the negative reception of this book (not only from homophobes, but from critical historians) appeared to reacting as if it had claimed "adelphopoiesis is medieval gay marriage." Which, in fact, was what many enthusiastic non-historians took away from the book. Whether that mistaken reaction was within Boswell's intent or not is open to question and I suspect he may have provided the answer at some point.

The second thing that comes back to me--and which still holds--is the depth of my anger over Boswell’s blythe assertion that his overwhelmingly male-focused data can--of course!--be extrapolated to women’s lives. The wrong-headedness of this position should be blindingly obvious, and yet time and again we find male scholars of the history of homosexuality taking the position that male experiences are universal and that women’s experiences are, at most, a minor variant thereof. If they address the topic at all.

There is even less woman-focused material in this book than in CST&H. And, as noted by several authors in the collection The Lesbian Pre-Modern, there has been an unfortunate tendency in the rise of Queer Studies for this centering of male narratives to continue, even as the use of the term “queer” stakes a moral claim to universal coverage. Marginalized groups are never de-marginalized by dominant groups deigning to include them. Indeed, works like this that focus on the male experience with the excuse that “the data is overwhelmingly male” will never be capable of redressing that imbalance because they have no incentive to dig beyond a few familiar examples, but then turn around and imply that those examples are all that exist.

Just as a random example, becasue Boswell is focusing on "sworn partner" relationships that follow the adelphopoiesis model, it's outside the scope of his study to consider historic traditions like "female husbands" or Boston marriages--phenomena that did not have a corresponding male version, and that therefore are invisible under his search for “female correlates of male-recorded and male-centered phenomena.”

Anyway. This is a useful and valuable book, but it can make no genuine claim to being about “same-sex unions”. It is about male-male unions, focusing on the types of social arrangements made between people with social, political, and economic power, who have the ability (and sometimes the inclination) to exclude the concerns of women from the central focus of their lives. Take it for that and look elsewhere for historic data about the arrangements that women made among themselves.

Major category: 
LHMP
Full citation: 

Boswell, John. 1994. Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe. Villard Books, New York. ISBN 0-679-43228-0

Introduction and Chapter 1

[The following is duplicated from the associated blog. I'm trying to standardize the organization of associated content.]

Like Boswell’s Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, I read this book back when it first came out and had not yet generated the intense discussion that marked its reception. (In fact, on checking the publication information, I appear to have picked up a first edition of the original hardcover.) Looking back in the context of this re-read, two things come back to me that still hold.

Firstly, although Boswell’s clear intent was to provide data for, and stimulate discussion of, the topic of same-sex marriage in modern American society, he really did frame his material very carefully and precisely. He doesn’t claim that the “same-sex union” ceremonies and customs in his research were considered marriage, or were a type of marriage. He does provide evidence that people at the time regularly compared them to marriage, as well as pointing out in great detail that many types of formal heterosexual unions, and many details of heterosexual marriage at that time, bear no relationship to our modern concept. And yet, when it first came out, so much of the negative reception of this book (not only from homophobes, but from critical historians) appeared to reacting as if it had claimed "adelphopoiesis is medieval gay marriage." Which, in fact, was what many enthusiastic non-historians took away from the book. Whether that mistaken reaction was within Boswell's intent or not is open to question and I suspect he may have provided the answer at some point.

The second thing that comes back to me--and which still holds--is the depth of my anger over Boswell’s blythe assertion that his overwhelmingly male-focused data can--of course!--be extrapolated to women’s lives. The wrong-headedness of this position should be blindingly obvious, and yet time and again we find male scholars of the history of homosexuality taking the position that male experiences are universal and that women’s experiences are, at most, a minor variant thereof. If they address the topic at all.

There is even less woman-focused material in this book than in CST&H. And, as noted by several authors in the collection The Lesbian Pre-Modern, there has been an unfortunate tendency in the rise of Queer Studies for this centering of male narratives to continue, even as the use of the term “queer” stakes a moral claim to universal coverage. Marginalized groups are never de-marginalized by dominant groups deigning to include them. Indeed, works like this that focus on the male experience with the excuse that “the data is overwhelmingly male” will never be capable of redressing that imbalance because they have no incentive to dig beyond a few familiar examples, but then turn around and imply that those examples are all that exist.

Just as a random example, becasue Boswell is focusing on "sworn partner" relationships that follow the adelphopoiesis model, it's outside the scope of his study to consider historic traditions like "female husbands" or Boston marriages--phenomena that did not have a corresponding male version, and that therefore are invisible under his search for “female correlates of male-recorded and male-centered phenomena.”

Anyway. This is a useful and valuable book, but it can make no genuine claim to being about “same-sex unions”. It is about male-male unions, focusing on the types of social arrangements made between people with social, political, and economic power, who have the ability (and sometimes the inclination) to exclude the concerns of women from the central focus of their lives. Take it for that and look elsewhere for historic data about the arrangements that women made among themselves.

# # #

Introduction

The modern West has a peculiar fascination with the topic of romantic love as it existed in older cultures, projecting the 19-20th century cultural obsession with romance onto the past. Other cultures and societies have had entirely different cultural preoccupations to a similar degree, such as personal fame, family lineage, etc. Romantic love does appear as a similar preoccupation in certain other eras, though not always with the odd expectation that love and marriage are tied together. Projecting this concept onto older eras and cultures creates deep misunderstandings of those cultures.

Even within Christian culture, views on marriage have varied widely. There is no single set of necessary and sufficient conditions to explain attitudes toward love and marriage in Western history.

When Western prejudice against same-sex relations collides with this chaotic definition of marriage, the structural issues are even clearer. [Note: To tie this point to more recent politics, a certain amount of the argumentation that led to the legalization of same-sex marriage in the USA involved pointed out these structural issues: that there are no logical arguments that support excluding all same-sex marriages that would not also invalidate large numbers of heterosexual marriages.]

This preoccupation + prejudice means that the question modern Western society asks about the same-sex unions discussed in this work is “were they homosexual?” But this question makes little sense in the historic context. Formalized same-sex unions have existed in many cultures in many eras. But the anti-gay attitude in Western culture demands that we make a clear distinction between erotic and non-erotic relations within them.

Boswell makes the usual apology for the predominance of male data over female. He says he made a special effort to examine “female correlates of male-recorded and male-centered phenomena.” [Note: but this assumes that they correlate, as opposed to involving qualitatively different phenomena.]

Chapter 1: The Vocabulary of Love and Marriage

This chapter provides a detailed discussion of various words used for the love/passion range of meanings and their nuances of meaning and use. A similar analysis of vocabulary is provided for marriage-like concepts. The focus is on Greek and Latin and how Greek and Latin vocabulary were translated into English (especially in Biblical contexts) Boswell discusses the problems of translating contextual of “slang” meanings of words. The purpose of this chapter is to shake up the reader’s premise that words must be read and understood in their “literal” meanings. [Note: This is not material that can be summarized in brief. If this summary intrigues you, I highly recommend just going out and reading the whole book.]

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