Posted in African Americans, film, gender studies, imperialism, masculinity, material culture, myths, propaganda, racism, violence

Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880-1917

Bederman, Gail. Manliness and Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880-1917. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995.

Prior to the 1990s, most literature on American whiteness and its relationship to masculinity emerged out of the historiography of labor and the working class.[1] Gail Bederman helped to shift this emphasis by her work which explored the political and cultural implications of whiteness, manliness, and civilization.[2] Bederman is considered to be one of the “first generation” of gender historians to study masculinity in the United States. Her 1995 seminal work, Manliness & Civilization, investigates connections between manhood, race, and power, which she identifies as the defining attributes of the “discourse of civilization,” during the Progressive Era.[3]  Her study is based on the premise that gender is an ongoing “historical, ideological process.”[4]  Bederman insisted, in a 2011 article entitled “Why Study ‘Masculinity,’ Anyway? Perspectives from the Old Days,” that “masculinity,” as scholars use the term, is a heuristic category and is most useful when recognized as such.[5] But, she confessed that she had not worked on masculinity studies since 1995 and felt like “Rip Van Winkle, awakening from his twenty-year nap.” She noted huge changes in the field of gender studies since she stepped away and admitted that she did not understand what members of this generation of masculinity scholars really want to know, or why.[6]

Manliness & Civilization opens with an exemplary model for Bederman’s argument: the world heavyweight boxing championship in 1910 between Jack Johnson, the first African American to hold the title, and Jim Jeffries, who was marketed as the “Hope of the White Race.” From the beginning, the Johnson-Jeffries fight was framed as a contest that would prove racial and masculine superiority.[7] After “Johnson trounced Jeffries,” interracial violence and riots broke out across the United States and government officials colluded to imprison Johnson. His victory was perceived as an affront to the power of white masculinity.[8] Bederman concludes that Johnson’s triumph “implicitly challenged the ways hegemonic discourses of civilization built powerful manhood out of race.”[9]

To build her main arguments in Manliness & Civilization, Bederman analyzes key experiences in the lives and work of four prominent and diverse American figures, Ida B. Wells (anti-lynching activist), G. Stanley Hall (psychologist), Charlotte Perkins Gilman (feminist), and President Theodore Roosevelt, who each worked to shape the meaning of manliness using their own conceptions of “civilization.” She shows how their work challenged or upheld notions that “civilization” is predicated on white masculinity. In her conclusion, Bederman analyzes the original 1912 rendition of the character Tarzan to show how the previous four examples combine into an image of perfect manhood that is both civilized, signaled by his descent from noble English aristocracy, and primitive, marked by his childhood among the apes and his drive to rape and kill.[10]

For Bederman, Tarzan is Teddy Roosevelt’s great white hunter who conquered racial inferiors and even nature itself.[11] Tarzan, who lynches Africans, is more savage than Wells’ lyncher because he enjoys killing as a sport (much like Roosevelt enjoyed killing animals). Kill or be killed is the law of the jungle.[12] He is Gilman’s “brute” who progresses from potential rapist to a chivalrous and civilized man due to his genetic superiority.[13] Tarzan is also Hall’s savage little boy who is allowed “racial recapitulation” to emerge as the most powerful civilized man.[14] Bederman admits that Burroughs most likely was not directly influenced by the works of any of these four individuals; however, the alignment of these “discourses of civilization” illuminates the pervasiveness of the “cultural project to remake manhood” during the Progressive Era.[15]

Before wrapping up discussion on Bederman’s work, I must digress to consider a couple of modern cinematic remakes of the Tarzan story. Hundreds of films, radio and television shows, stage plays, and video games have featured Tarzan. Most adaptations have continued to propagate the paternalism and racism found in the original.[16] Walt Disney employees decided to completely remove all African natives from its 1999 children’s animated Tarzan, a move that helped them to avoid any hint of racism found in the original stories.[17] Although, it makes one question the underlying message for a diverse global society. Yet, in an even more surprising move (at least for me now that I know the original storyline), the film’s villain, a white hunter by the name of Clayton (Tarzan’s family name), dies in an accidental hanging (lynching?) that viewers witness through the shadows. And in 2016, a new film, The Legend of Tarzan was released.

In this most recent reimagining of Tarzan, the storyline begins in England, where Tarzan and Jane are happily married and living as Lord and Lady Greystoke. The action takes place in the 1880s during the colonization of the Congo by King Leopold of Belgium. African American diplomat George Washington Williams, whose character is based on a real American Civil War soldier, Christian minister, politician, lawyer, journalist, and historian, enlists Greystoke/Tarzan’s help to thwart King Leopold’s plans to enslave the Congo. Although the filmmaker attempted to upgrade the story for twenty-first century sensibilities, there are foundational problems inherent to the Tarzan storyline. As Richard Brody points out in his New Yorker review of the film, “There are inescapable underlying racist horrors built into the very notion of Tarzan—the idea that, as a white man raised by apes, he’s the white-skinned equivalent of black Africans, their equal as a force of nature but with the natural aptitude to be rapidly civilized, and that, as a white man, he is Jane’s one acceptable African mate.”[18] If we understand films to be a way to gauge how we see the world and how our world is reified, these examples illustrate that gender and race are indeed ongoing historical, ideological processes that we need to question.

Looking today at the continued influence of Bederman’s work, Google Scholar returned 2,189 results for Manliness & Civilization. Searching within these results, 83 results related to publications in 2016, which indicates that the work continues to have relevance. However, I found that numerous works that cited Manliness & Civilization over the years did so only in passing. By citing a page or two from the work, these publications seem to acknowledge the importance of Bederman’s contributions, but few seemed to actively engaged with any of her arguments. This may indicate that scholars of gender and/or race studies are at least expected to be familiar with this work. Some of these titles include Racial Formation in the United States: From the 1960s to the 1990s (2014) by Michael Omi and Howard Winant, How Jews Became White Folks and What That Says About Race in America (1998) by Karen Brodkin, and Jazz, Rock, and Rebels: Cold War Politics and American Culture in a Divided Germany (2000) by Uta G Poiger, each of which were cited by hundreds of additional publications.

“So where does that leave us in the twenty-first century?” Bederman asks.[19] She does not offer an answer; however, one point she makes is clear. There is nothing self-evident about what it means to study “masculinity.” The term is a heuristic category that allows us to ask certain kinds of questions and is useful only when scholars clearly define what they want to know and what they mean when they use the term.[20]

[1] Tanfer Emin Tunc, “Recapitulating the Historiographical Contributions of Matthew Frye Jacobson’s Whiteness of a Different Color and Gail Bederman’s Manliness and Civilization,” Rethinking History 12, no. 2 (2008): 281. The author of this article suggests that Jacobson’s and Bederman’s contributions should be looked at together in order to better understand their contributions to the field.

[2] Ibid., 282.

[3] Gail Bederman, Manliness & Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880-1917 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), 4-5. She posits that as “middle-class men actively worked to reinforce male power, their race became a factor which was crucial to their gender…whiteness was both a palpable fact and a manly ideal for these men.” In addition, Bederman’s use of the term “discourse” was influenced by the work of Michel Foucault. By simultaneously looking at the intellectual constructs and material practices of a society, this methodology helps historians understand ways in which a society defines itself and how that society deploys social power. Ibid., 24.

[4] Ibid., 7. Emphasis in original.

[5] Gail Bederman, “Why Study ‘Masculinity,’ Anyway? Perspectives from the Old Days,” Culture, Society and Masculinities 3, no. 1 (Spring, 2011): 14. The paper is based on a keynote address given at the conference “Performing the Invisible: Masculinities in the English-Speaking World,” Université Sorbonne Nouvelle-Paris 3, September 25-26, 2010.

[6] Ibid., 13.

[7] Bederman, Manliness & Civilization: A Cultural History of Gender and Race in the United States, 1880-1917, 2.

[8] Ibid., 41.

[9] Ibid., 42. This example provoked me to think about Jesse Owen’s win at the 1936 Olympics. Many American history and sports sites publicize how Owens, who was the son of a sharecropper and the grandson of slaves, had single-handedly crushed Hitler’s myth of Aryan supremacy. Yet, we don’t often hear about how Americans treated Jack Johnson.

[10] Ibid., 218, 21.

[11] Ibid., 220-21. “Tarzan’s cultural work was to proclaim that ‘the white man’s’ potential for power and mastery was as limitless as the masculine perfection of Tarzan’s body.”

[12] Ibid., 225.

[13] Ibid., 229-31.

[14] Ibid., 222. “…civilized man could be powerful if, as a child, he repeated the primitive life of his savage ancestors.” Hall believed that children grew up literally repeating the psychological experiences of their primitive adult ancestors. Ibid., 94.

[15] Ibid., 232.

[16] Rebecca Keegan, “Can You Make a Non-Racist Tarzan Movie?,” The Los Angeles Times  (July 1, 2016), accessed October 19, 2016,

[17] Ibid.; J. Weeks, “Reprints of `Tarzan’ Books Soften Racism,” Florida Times Union  (1999), accessed October 19, 2016,

[18] Richard Brody, “Tarzan Cannot Be Rebooted,” The New Yorker  (June 30, 2016), accessed October 19, 2016,

[19] Bederman, “Why Study ‘Masculinity,’ Anyway? Perspectives from the Old Days,” 24.

[20] Ibid., 16.

Posted in assimilation, capitalism, class, film, gender studies, immigrants, labor, material culture, resistance, urban studies

Ladies of Labor, Girls of Adventure: Working Women, Popular Culture, and Labor Politics at the Turn of the Twentieth Century

Enstad, Nan. Ladies of Labor, Girls of Adventure: Working Women, Popular Culture, and Labor Politics at the Turn of the Twentieth Century. New York: Columbia University Press, 1999.

In Ladies of Labor, Girls of Adventure, Nan Enstad explores how working-class women used popular culture as a resource to construct their identity at the turn of the twentieth-century.[1] The book illuminates how these young Jewish and Italian immigrant women remade themselves as “American ladies” through consuming dime novels, fashion, and film, and how their distinct forms of consumption shaped their labor activism during the shirtwaist strike of 1909. Enstad illustrates how these working-class women developed their identities as ladies against middle-class identities and values that attempted to subdue them.[2] Enstad actively contests prevalent labor scholarship that traditionally has focused solely on white men and middle-class sensibilities. She argues that previous historians who insisted that popular culture consumerism was a frivolous distraction to labor’s real (“manly”) business of serious union politics ended up overlooking how these everyday activities shaped female strikers’ identities.[3]

The book’s introduction, “Mud in Our French Heels,” begins with Enstad’s reflections on an American Studies Association conference session entitled, “Does Cultural Studies Neglect Class?” One of the panelists who argued “yes” urged historians and cultural critics to make sure that they have “materialist mud on [their] boots.”[4] Enstad notes that the phrase conjured a very specific image of work boots with “tough, thick soles and heavy leather uppers, a man’s boots, well worn from labor and the ‘mud’ of daily life.”[5] For her study, she transmutes that image into women’s shoes with “cheap French heels” because they signaled “Americanization and ‘ladyhood’” for the women she researched.[6] At first glance, this pairing appears to be simply a logical, astute move on Enstad’s part to impart an image of her mission to her readers. However, a more philosophical underlying message may be present.

Enstad appears to be pointing to Walter Benjamin in her opening chapter to set the tone for the rest of her book. In addition to these allusions, she explains in a later chapter that her subjects redefine themselves through engaging with the “wish images” (a term coined by Benjamin) embedded in the popular culture products they consumed.[7] Although these products were not able to “emancipate people from oppressive labor or class structures, as wish images they engaged a potentially revolutionary or egalitarian impulse within the imagination.”[8] In other words, the films, dime novels, and fashions helped these women to not only redefine themselves, but also to enact social change.

In dime novel narratives, marriage to the wealthy hero is the ultimate reward for the challenges working women had to endure.[9] Marriage, in these stories, symbolized triumph over evil and the restoration of moral, heterosexual order.[10] Rose Harriet Pastor is an example of a working girl who “fulfilled the dime novel fantasy  and married millionaire Graham Phelps Stokes in 1905, just four years before the shirtwaist strike.”[11] Rose Pastor Stokes’ early life, in some ways, reflected the lives of the young working-class women who adored her; yet, in many ways, she was no longer one of them.

Born Rose Harriet Wieslander in Augustova, Poland, on July 18, 1879, she moved to “the squalid slums of London’s East End England” with her mother at age three.[12] At the age of eight, she was forced to leave school and join the workforce. In 1890, she moved to America with her mother and family, and worked for twelve years in a cigar-sweatshop where many Jews labored. Looking back, Rose viewed this time period as formative for her identity.[13] In 1901, she became a regular contributor to Yidishes Tageblat (Jewish daily news), which led to a full-time position as a resident columnist in New York City. She was able to explore political themes and express her opinions in her writing. She even rebuked working-class women for reading dime novel romances, “With our free circulating libraries what excuse is there other than ignorance for any girl who reads the crazy phantasies from the imbecile brains of Laura Jean Libbey, The Duchess, and others of their ilk!… I appeal to you- if you read those books- stop! stop!”[14] As one of the “ladies of labor” Rose Schneiderman later explained in her memoir, “I knew nothing about going to a public library and taking out any book my heart desired… I did not even know about the College Settlement House which was only a block away.”[15] Enstad shows that dime novels were more accessible to these women than libraries because “pushcarts and newsstands put dime novels into the hands of working women without first requiring other cultural competencies.”[16]

Through the Tageblat, Rose Pastor also met her future husband, James Graham Phelps Stokes, a reform-minded millionaire from a prominent family.[17] After they married, she joined his world of philanthropic reformism and, within a few years, they both joined the Socialist Party of America in 1906. Stokes redefined herself as the voice of the worker to help working-class women.[18] She was immensely popular at all of the rallies and shop meetings that she attended. Enstad points out that “the young Hebrew girls on the east side regard her as an oracle and a friend.”[19] “Stokes’ support suggested that there was no contradiction between the dime novel ending and a strike,” according to Enstad.[20]

Although the notion of marrying a millionaire does not seem compatible with a strike, in this case, reality reflected the fantasy, which contributed to Rose Pastor Stokes’ popularity and effectiveness during the strike. Enstad notes that in the dime novels, “married heroines regularly returned to the factories” to assert their working class loyalties.[21] Stokes’ return during the strike could be seen as the “ultimate fulfillment of the dime novel ending.”[22] As Enstad points out, the working ladies did not simply imbibe (consume) wish images, they “enacted wish images when they made themselves into ladies.”[23]

According to Google Scholar, Ladies of Labor is cited within 42 other works. Many of these books and articles focus on topics situated at the intersection of class, gender, and popular culture, such as Tony Michel’s A Fire in their Hearts: Yiddish Socialists in New York (2009), Deirdre Clemente’s “Striking Ensembles: The Importance of Clothing on the Picket Line” (2006), Bridgett Kenny’s “Servicing Modernity: White Women Shop Workers on the Rand and Changing Gendered Respectabilities, 1940s–1970s” (2008), and Lori Meresh’s “Factory Labor and Literary Aesthetics: The ‘Lowell Mill Girl,’ Popular Fiction, and the Proletarian Grotesque” (2012). Other works that reference Ladies of Labor focus more specifically on film and theater, such as Eric Loren Smoodin’s Regarding Frank Capra: Audience, Celebrity, and American Film Studies, 1930-1960 (2004) and Paula Marie Seniors’ Beyond Lift Every Voice and Sing: The Culture of Uplift, Identity, and Politics in Black Musical Theater (2009). A number of works that reference Enstad include discussions about Jewish and Italian female immigrants during the early twentieth century, fashion, popular fiction, and class performity. Enstad’s research in Ladies of Labor lends itself to a broad range of future works.

[1] The book is based on her 1993 dissertation from the University of Minnesota, “Compromised positions: Working-class women, popular culture and labor politics, 1890-1920.”

[2] Nan Enstad, Ladies of Labor, Girls of Adventure: Working Women, Popular Culture, and Labor Politics at the Turn of the Twentieth Century (New York: Columbia University Press, 1999), 13.

[3] Ibid., 3, 126, 212n16.

[4] Ibid., 1.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid., 1-2.

[7] Ibid., 69.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ibid., 76.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Ibid., 157.

[12] Judith Rosenbaum, “Rose Pastor Stokes: 1879 – 1933,” Jewish Women: A Comprehensive Historical Encyclopedia, accessed November 16, 2016.

[13] Ibid.

[14] Enstad, 49.

[15] Ibid., 55.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Rosenbaum,

[18] Ibid. This biographical information, which I found to be very informative for understanding Stokes’ place in this story, was not presented by Enstad in the book. Perhaps it was present in her dissertation.

[19] Enstad, 157.

[20] Ibid., 158.

[21] Ibid., 157-58.

[22] Ibid., 158.

[23] Ibid., 69. Emphasis in original.


Posted in censorship, film, Korean War, masculinity, material culture, military, photographs, propaganda, Vietnam War, WWII

Warrior Image: Soldiers in American Culture from the Second World War to the Vietnam Era

Huebner, Andrew J. Warrior Image: Soldiers in American Culture from the Second World War to the Vietnam Era. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2008.

In Warrior Image, Andrew J. Huebner challenges a common perception that American soldiers were depicted differently in World War II than they were during the Vietnam War. He argues that the contrast between the virtuous soldier of the “good war” and the “degraded and damaged” soldier of the Vietnam War is not as stark as many people believe. Even though early images of World War II portrayed soldiers as disciplined, brave, and patriotic, darker images reflecting the horrors of war began to emerge before the war ended. By the end of the Korean and Vietnam Wars, soldiers were depicted in the media as “frustrated, disillusioned, isolated, and embittered.”[1]  Yet, each of these wars began as a good war and its soldiers had been perceived as virtuous warriors, but events destroyed those images.

Huebner argues that images of foot soldiers in American culture from the 1940s through the 1970s have evolved over time, but warriors in all three wars have been portrayed as both heroes and victims. News photography, advertisements, propaganda, films, magazines, novels, and poetry all contributed to these changing images. His book features only males, most of whom are white. He uses terms such as soldier, veteran, warrior, serviceman, and GI broadly to include members of all military branches, but ignores airmen, seamen, medics, and those who served at headquarters or behind the lines because most of the war-related imagery in this period featured the infantry.[2] Huebner’s interpretations of how American warriors have been characterized comes primarily from depictions of soldiers and veterans in Hollywood films, but also in popular novels, magazines, television, and advertisements.[3]

Huebner contends that the most important element of war imagery relates to how these images elicit public sympathy for and identification with the soldiers, rather than how they work to promote the war effort. He writes, “The primary role of the media in wartime in the Anglo-American world has long been to maintain the ties of sentiment between the soldiers in the field and the home front.”[4] However, audience emotions can be manipulated for various purposes.

The OWI (Office of War Information) worked to influence popular publications’ portrayals of wounded soldiers by discouraging the public from pitying disabled veterans.[5] In an article published in Ladies Home Journal in July 1944, women were warned against sentimentality, “Men allowed to pity themselves will, in time, be disqualified from normal life and will end their days in veterans’ hospitals.”[6] Typical wartime photos that were published in magazines and newspapers showed beautiful women kissing and embracing their severely wounded fiancés, which reassured soldiers that such affection would be the reward for their sacrifices.[7] Advertisements in popular magazines followed suit. For example, an ad for Pullman sleeping cars showed cheerful wounded soldiers on trains being waited on by attractive nurses.[8]

However, the OWI changed their standards according to their needs. Huebner shows that censorship was loosened when public attention began to wane. Beginning in 1943, the government began releasing grisly photos to motivate the public. These photos had previously been consigned to the War Department’s “Chamber of Horrors” file.[9] OWI even requested that advertisers include images of dead U.S. soldiers to help raise money for the war effort even though depictions of fallen soldiers challenged the image of manly invulnerability. Huebner notes Christina Jarvis’ discussion of wounded soldiers in The Male Body at War: American Masculinity During World War II, “War produces alternative or ‘abject’ masculinities that exist alongside and in opposition to dominant cultural representations.”[10] In other words, even though Americans visualized soldiers, nation, and manhood to be invincible, war made them confront more sobering and realistic images.

[1] Andrew J. Huebner, Warrior Image: Soldiers in American Culture from the Second World War to the Vietnam Era (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2008), 11.

[2] Ibid., 8.

[3] For information on Hollywood and the military, see David L. Robb, Operation Hollywood: How the Pentagon Shapes and Censors the Movies (Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books, 2004); Carl Boggs and Tom Pollard, Hollywood War Machine: U.S. Militarism and Popular Culture (Boulder: Paradigm Pub., 2007); Matthew Alford and Michael Parenti, Reel Power: Hollywood Cinema and American Supremacy (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010); Geoff Martin and Erin Steuter, Pop Culture Goes to War: Enlisting and Resisting Militarism in the War on Terror (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2010).

[4] Huebner, 11. The book does not provide any information about public attitudes toward war, which would have helped to solidify his points.

[5] Ibid., 26-29.

[6] Ibid., 27.

[7] Ibid., 28.

[8] Ibid., 29.

[9] Ibid., 29-32.

[10] Ibid., 32; Christina S. Jarvis, The Male Body at War: American Masculinity During World War II (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2004), 88.