Image credit: Lanterns, by You Ran

by Ella Zhang

Read the Faculty Introduction.

Check out the Research Essay Drafting Model based off Ella Zhang’s “Gendered Self” essay for eight elements that were revised from the draft to the finished essay below.

The first decades of the twentieth century in China, marked by the New Culture Movement and the May Fourth Movement, witnessed a process of national invention and significant changes to a society led by intellectuals. Along with this reformation, a debate about women’s liberation and a new gender ideology was brought to the table. On one hand, as Sarah Steven writes in “Figuring Modernity: The New Woman and the Modern Girl in Republican China,” “Social conservatives supported a cultural ideal of womanhood that accorded with the more traditional ideology of liangqi xianmu (good wife, wise mother)” (82). On the other hand, during that period, another group of women – China’s modern young women who sought to find their subjectivity and independence – emerged. This tension between expressing women’s true selves and conforming to social norms is vividly represented in many  Chinese novels, journals, and films. For example, the protagonist Miss Sophia in Ling Ding’s 1927 Miss Sophia’s Diary is a “quintessentially modern woman struggling between self-loathing and self-love, between traditional expectations and modern freedom” (Steven 93). Similarly, The Ladies’ Journal (Funü Zazhi) of the same time presented an image of the “new woman” that incorporated both traditional virtues of motherhood and progressive notions of education (Steven 93).

Among all these critical novels and films representing China’s 1920s gender issues, Raise the Red Lantern, directed by Zhang Yimou, has attracted great attention. This film not only successfully depicts women’s oppression under the feudal family system of polygamy and patriarchy but also vividly reveals the issue of gender relations and women’s identity, both of which deserve our reflection even today. The leading character, 19-year-old Songlian, is a modern girl who has attended one year of college but has had to give up her education to marry a wealthy man as his fourth concubine. Trapped in this household, Songlian is unavoidably controlled by patriarchal traditions that ultimately cause her to lose her sense of self— the free and natural expression of her identity without constraints. Instead, she takes on a new identity as the “woman” that her society wants and forces her to become. This increasingly artificial  “woman” identity resonates with what Judith Butler calls the “gendered self” in her essay “Performance Acts and Gender Constitution” (519). For, based on Butler’s interpretation, this “gendered self” is more a cultural construction than a natural existence.

Because Butler sees gender as fluid, however–i.e. changeable, reactive to pressures, influences, contexts, history–she refuses the idea of an “abiding” self. From a psychological perspective, however, most of us do tend to feel and experience a sense of an individual self. Indeed, some sense of “self” is critical to survival. Let us call that psychological function the “true” self, i.e. the sense of one’s individual life as different and distinct from others’. Despite their differences in cultural background and language expression, both Zhang’s movie and Butler’s theory shed light on the tension between the constructed “gendered self” and a woman’s sense of this true inner self, with each corroborating the other’s view on the “woman” identity. Women’s adoption of the “gendered self” and the loss of their sense of inner true self, of their core identity,  is a parallel process that causes women to agonize over the splitting of these two identities. Butler’s theory regarding the “gendered self” valuably demonstrates this painful tension existing at three levels: the body, behaviors, and the sense of self.

Before interrogating the cultural construction of the “gendered self,” it is important to define more specifically what the “gendered self” is and where it originates. At the fundamental level of the body, the “gendered self” of a woman arises from men’s objectification of her body and the construction of her identity as a sexual being. In Raise the Red Lantern, to maintain absolute power within his patriarchal society, Master Chen deliberately disparages his concubines by constructing their identities as inessential objects inferior to his identity as the superior subject. To achieve this purpose, he reduces women to sexual properties owned or consumed by him or men in general. For example, for her first night of marriage, Songlian is dressed up in a chamber full of sensual red lanterns, waiting for Master Chen’s arrival (00:11:01- 00:11:50). Chinese Cinema scholar Hsiu-Chuang Deppman interprets this particular scene in the following way:

The pattern of her colorful wedding gown, as we discover later, corresponds to the pattern of the bed frame and thus confirms the structural bondage between her body and the Chen property…Chen’s commentary, commingled with his (and the camera’s) sexualizing gaze, reveals a strong satisfaction with his ownership and a narcissistic pride in his taste. (134)

Deppman insightfully points out the close connection between Songlian’s wedding chamber and other pieces of property that Master Chen owns. Furthermore, the pleasure Chen manifests, as Deppman states, confirms his ownership of Songlian. Indeed, Master Chen’s long and silent gaze towards Songlian vividly reveals his objectification of her body. His gaze is a scan, a superficial examination of Songlian’s beauty as a sexual being with no discovery of any other inner beauty such as her dynamism, her mind, or her soul. For him, Songlian is only another commodity to satisfy his sexual desire, one coming on the heels of his second and third concubines who do not bring enough excitement to the Master. As a commodity, Songlian’s recognized identity is nothing other than that associated with her body and determined solely by the Master. Hence, Raise the Red Lantern demonstrates that in a patriarchal society, the “gendered self” of a woman originally arises from men’s objectification of the female body, reducing her to a sexual being.

Parallel to the rise of her “gendered self” as a sexual being in terms of the body, when her body is out of her hands and controlled by Master Chen, Songlian’s core identity —her authentic identity as a young college student— fades away. Perceived as a sexual object, Songlian’s body not only has the physical value to satisfy the Master’s desire but also serves as a means for him to devalue and oppress her sense of identity. For when Songlian submits her body to patriarchal power, she is symbolically giving up the power of her original identity and surrendering to the woman’s role constructed by the Master. When Songlian is left alone after her first night in Chen’s household, she looks at her reflection in the mirror carefully and helplessly, two lines of tears flowing down (00:15:10-00:16:04). Zhang uses the mirror as a metaphor to demonstrate Songlian revisiting and reflecting on her identity. When Songlian looks into the mirror, she genuinely realizes she–it– has already changed. Her reflection in this mirror may be the same as that beautiful woman when she just arrived, but her inner soul has become an imprisoned woman who has lost control over her own body. She is alienated from her original youthful, free-minded self because all the characteristics that identify her authentic self have collapsed. Songlian’s experience emphasizes that without control over her body both physically and figuratively, a woman’s true self becomes damaged and reduced.

From the objectification of Songlian’s body in the abstract to the further construction of her “gendered self,” Chen’s household takes heavy control over Songlian’s behaviors through concrete social norms that are historically constituted and socially shared. For instance, at the very beginning of Raise the Red Lantern, we see Songlian as an independent female figure who walks on her own to Master Chen’s compound instead of taking his sedan chair; moreover, she carries her suitcase without any help from the housekeeper (00:02:25-00:04:50). Afterward, as soon as she arrives at Chen’s, there is a huge wall full of large characters of Chinese classics behind her, an “image symbolically convey[ing] how she [has] married into a system of rules, orders, signs, and conventions” (Deppman 144). Indeed, upon Songlian’s arrival, the housekeeper speaks about Chen’s “customs of generations,” which implicitly instills a sense of obedience and submission in her mind. In a patriarchal society, as Butler describes, “to be a woman is to have become a woman, to compel the body to conform to a historical idea of ‘woman,’ to induce the body to become a cultural sign, to materialize oneself in obedience to a historically delimited possibility” (522). This condition means a female is not qualified to be a “woman” until she complies with all her culture’s historical ideas of “woman.” Yet this historical identity, according to Butler, is only an “illusion of an abiding gendered self” or a “gender fiction”  fabricated by a patriarchal society (519-22). Moreover, because “those who fail to do their gender right are regularly punished,” women’s obedience becomes their tacit collective agreement to subordination (522-25). So, to avoid punishment for not conforming to social norms, Songlian has to follow the action codes and discipline that echo and reinforce the “gendered self.” Doing her gender right enables Songlian to blend into the culture around her so that she can survive in Chen’s household and the patriarchal society she is living in, where survival is now more cultural and psychological than physical.

Because women have to take on certain “gendered acts” to conform their behavior to social expectations, as described by Butler, the natural expressions of their identities may be concealed and weakened, a diminishment reflected in Songlian’s experience. The Chen household’s patriarchal norms force her to give up her previous expression of identity and start performing as an appropriate “woman” and concubine in Chen’s household. For instance, initially Songlian disapproves of the rule that the wife/concubine currently in the master’s favor chooses the household’s meals, and even leaves the table in anger when the Third Concubine intentionally orders meat only for herself (00:43:55-00:00:44:23). However, when Songlian gains Master Chen’s favor afterwards, she domineeringly demands that her meals be brought to her room, keeping the other concubines waiting (00:53:45-00:54:21). Songlian’s switch from breaking the family’s codified traditions to advocating for those rules, and their underlying power, demonstrates her transition from an independent and unconstricted core identity to the “gendered self.” In short, she loses the ability to express her authentic self as she takes on performative acts. Admittedly, one might argue that her behavior is an act of agency and that she intentionally controls her behavior to get ahead in her oppressive patriarchal world. However, this agency is by no means a natural expression of her true identity. Rather, her actions are most often artificially passive responses to show the feudal household that she has conformed to its cultural standards. Only in this way can Songlian survive at once physically, culturally, and psychologically under the household’s pervasive patriarchal power. The price, however, ultimately lies in her loss of control over her actions and behavior and in the abandonment of her sense of self.

Apart from behavior constraints, at the level of self-awareness, the woman’s “gendered self” increasingly diminishes consciousness of its constructed identity, which makes the “gendered self” self-fulfilling and self-perpetuating. When Songlian finds out that her maid, Yaner, has lit red lanterns secretly in her room, unacceptable given Yaner’s low status, Songlian exposes Yaner’s misconduct in front of everyone. She keeps saying “does this family have rules or not” and, when trying to justify the harsh punishment she imposes on Yaner, asserts that “this is one of the rules of Chen’s” (1:28:11-1:29:37). Songlian’s spontaneous quoting of “the rules of Chen” shows that the Chens’ feudal code of family traditions is now deeply rooted in her mind: she has rationalized, internalized, and now applies those “rules” automatically, without deliberate thought. As Butler explains: “subjective experience is not only structured by existing political arrangements, but effects and structures those arrangements in turn” (522). Butler’s words illuminate that the rise of women’s “gendered self” is a mutual process between women and patriarchal society. On one hand, since the “gendered self” is historically instituted and socially shared, women internalize this compelling identity, so it becomes “natural” for them to conform to the idea of the pseudo-self. On the other hand, when a woman starts performing her gender identity in wider society, she in turn reinforces the system. So the “gendered self” is dependent not only on the external construction of women’s identity but also on women’s reproduction of that identity, which again gives birth to the constructed “gendered self,” making it self-perpetuating.

Yet over time a woman’s increasing adoption of her “gendered self” gradually represses her consciousness of her true self, its individuality and power, a shift seen in Songlian’s experience. Deppman describes Songlian when she first arrives at Chen’s household as follows: “She brings into this conservative family a youthful, rebellious energy and an inquisitive sensitivity to the conflicts between modernity and tradition, young and old” (128). Even though the rebellious energy mentioned by Deppman is not explicitly expressed by Songlian, Zhang Yimou demonstrates Songlian’s resistance subtly through her behavior. For instance, initially Songlian questions the “customs for generations” and disobeys the rules; also, she bravely despises the Third Mistress for her aggression in earning Master Chen’s favor. However, trapped in the patriarchal and hierarchical Chen family for so long, she eventually becomes desperate and cries out, “what do people amount to in this house? They are like dogs, cats or rats. But certainly not people” (1:35:38-1:35:50). Now going as far as to compare her life to that of an animal, Songlian directly condemns the repression of her personality and human individuality. Indeed, her life has become a near empty shell. British psychoanalyst Dr. Donald Winnicott describes feelings associated with people’s identities as follows: the true self refers to a sense of self based on authentic experience, one that brings a feeling of being alive (Winnicott 161). In contrast, the false self is a defensive façade marked by repressed actions that bring about empty feelings (Winnicott 162). Winnicott’s theory makes perfect sense in Songlian’s case – the young and independent girl is the true self that causes her inner drives to confront the feudal gender norms while the “gendered self” is her artificial self passively taken on, which brings feelings of emptiness. Winnicott also claims that due to the inconsistency between the two “selves,” or in his words, “ego distortion,” people can become torn up and suffer from dissociation (144). That is exactly what happens to Songlian: she suffers from an identity distortion between her true self and constructed gendered self. Eventually, she no longer knows how to naturally express her core identity, or even whether she has one at all, which makes her feel powerless and hopeless. When the rebellious power inherent to her original identity is so undermined by the Chen patriarchy, Songlian’s sense of self collapses thoroughly. This occurs at the end of Raise the Red Lantern, when Songlian becomes insane, putting on the school clothes that she wore when entering Chen’s household and wandering in Chen’s courtyard. Through these actions she escapes the “woman” identity that the Chen household and Chinese feudal society have cruelly put on her. She desires to go back and piece together her shattered true identity, but she cannot, both physically and mentally, which is tragic and desperate.

At this point, patriarchal society as presented in Raise the Red Lantern has fully constructed Songlian’s “gendered self,” while Songlian, on the other hand, has completely lost her inner self in terms of body, behavior, and conscious self-possession. The fading of the core identity always corresponds to and is interwoven with the rise of the constructed self. Over the process, Songlian’s body and behaviors have gradually become consumed by her “gendered self”; even more desperately, she cannot consciously tell whether she is performing the “gendered self” or not. Butler compares theater and life to illustrate the relevance of the awareness of performative acts. She says that in the theater one can say, “this is just an act,” and de-realize the act, making acting into something quite distinct from what is real (Butler 527). However, when people are on the street or in the bus, there is no presumption that the act is distinct from reality (527). Immersed in Chen’s household and feudal society for so long, smart and sober as she is, Songlian inevitably takes on the required performative acts and subconsciously conforms to the prevailing gender norms. She gradually internalizes as reality the Chens’ feudal codes of tradition that she previously hated, reproducing their reality. Once the family politics of the “gendered self” sneak into Songlian’s life, ultimately, it is near-impossible for her to escape the tragic consequences.

At this point, patriarchal society as presented in Raise the Red Lantern has fully constructed Songlian’s “gendered self,” while Songlian, on the other hand, has completely lost her inner self in terms of body, behavior, and conscious self-possession. The fading of the core identity always corresponds to and is interwoven with the rise of the constructed self. Over the process, Songlian’s body and behaviors have gradually become consumed by her “gendered self”; even more desperately, she cannot consciously tell whether she is performing the “gendered self” or not. Butler compares theater and life to illustrate the relevance of the awareness of performative acts. She says that in the theater one can say, “this is just an act,” and de-realize the act, making acting into something quite distinct from what is real (Butler 527). However, when people are on the street or in the bus, there is no presumption that the act is distinct from reality (527). Immersed in Chen’s household and feudal society for so long, smart and sober as she is, Songlian inevitably takes on the required performative acts and subconsciously conforms to the prevailing gender norms. She gradually internalizes as reality the Chens’ feudal codes of tradition that she previously hated, reproducing their reality. Once the family politics of the “gendered self” sneak into Songlian’s life, ultimately, it is near-impossible for her to escape the tragic consequences.

One might argue that if women proactively accept and adopt the “gendered self,” they will avoid the distortion that occurs with their true self. However, to truly survive both physically and mentally, women must keep a sense of their true selves from submission to the socially and culturally compelling gender identity. The fate of Tzu-chun in Lu Xun’s Regret for the Past, which is set in the same period as Raise the Red Lantern, illustrates this idea perfectly. Initially, Tzu-chun says to her lover firmly and gravely: “I’m my own mistress. None of them [her family members] has any right to interfere with me,” which shows she is such a courageous and rebellious girl (Lu 198). However, Tzu-chun’s consciousness of her independence does not last long. After marrying her lover, Tzu-chun’s mindset becomes deeply influenced by patriarchal ideology. Conforming to feudal norms, she sees motherhood and household management as the primary values of women; she cooks for her family all day long and argues with other women over trivialities (Lu 205-209). Gradually, she loses all her charming spirit and becomes short-sighted and timid, deviating from her original self. In the end, her husband loses interest and breaks up with her, all of which leads to Tzu-chun’s premature death. According to psychotherapist Maria Papadima, the adoption of the external identity does not necessarily ensure people’s survival but causes the true self to become “hidden or temporarily surpassed” (395). This absence of a sense of self ultimately makes trauma and dissociation inevitable (Papadima 386). As we see from Tzu-chun’s fate, she fully accepts and internalizes her “gendered self,” is willing to take on the expected performative acts and conform to social norms. So, even though she seems to own the agency of her behaviors and beliefs, she is controlled by a patriarchal society after all. Without remaining an independent and courageous woman, she loses her husband, who loves her true self, and, more importantly, loses the ultimate power to resist the oppression that society exerts over her.

Songlian and Tzu-chun can be seen as the epitome of all women living in 1920s China, a time when Chinese women finally got their chance to receive a western education and throw off the shackles of the old patriarchal ways of thinking. At that time, the “new women’s” quest for freedom conflicted with their long-term obedience and subordination. Given the historical background, the “new women” were forced by patriarchal customs to take on the prevailing constructed identity as a way to culturally survive. Because these women in 1920s China were of socio-political significance, as cinema scholar Hsiu-Chuang Deppman says in his analysis of Raise the Red Lantern, they “deserve to be watched, understood, and pitied” (148). By exploring the gender relations of that time, as depicted in Songlian’s and Tzu-chun’s tragedies, we see exactly how the loss of the inner self leads to women’s sufferings in a patriarchal society. These stories are cautionary tales that remind every woman that the loss of her core identity is not illusory, and to be fully warned of the consequences of that potential loss. Yes, women need to blend into the given patriarchal society to an extent. But they also need a degree of separation from certain rigid gender roles that are expected and reinforced by society. In this way, women may prevent themselves from assimilation into an inauthentically constructed “gendered self,” protecting themselves from losing their true selves. When women can sustain their true selves as a fully integrated part of their core identity, they retain power. Though that power may be limited, it can prevent the patriarchy from entirely destroying their lives.

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Works Cited

Butler, Judith. “Performative Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory.” Theatre Journal, vol. 40, no. 4, 1988, pp. 519–531. JSTOR,  www.jstor.org/stable/3207893. Accessed 5 Oct. 2020.

Da Hong Deng Long Gao Gao Gua: Raise the Red Lantern. Directed by Zhang Yimou, performances by Li Gong. Peking, China: China Film Co-production Corp, 1991.

Deppman, Hsiu-Chuang. “Body, Space, and Power: Reading the Cultural Images of Concubines in the Works of Su Tong and Zhang Yimou.” Modern Chinese Literature and Culture, vol. 15, no. 2, 2003, pp. 121–153. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41490906. Accessed 29 Nov. 2020.

Lu, Xun. Selected Stories of Lu Hsun. Translated by Xianyi Yang and Gladys Yang. New York, Norton, 2003.

Papadima, Maria. “Dissociation, the True Self and the Notion of the Frozen Baby.” Psychodynamic Practice, vol. 12, no. 4, Nov. 2006, pp. 385–402. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1080/14753630600958189.

Stevens, Sarah E. “Figuring Modernity: The New Woman and the Modern Girl in Republican China.” NWSA Journal, vol. 15, no. 3, The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003, pp. 82–103, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4317011.

Winnicott, Donald W. “Ego Distortion in Terms of True and False Self.” The Collected Works of D. W. Winnicott: Volume 6, 1960-1963. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, December, 2016. Oxford Clinical Psychology. Date Accessed 13 Dec. 2020

Image credit: Red Door, by Zhao Yiwei

Image credit: Two Earths, by Zoe Kalamaros

by Aimée Burlamacchi

Read the Faculty Introduction.

Janelle Monáe’s 2018 Dirty Computer is what she calls an “Emotion Picture” consisting of a collection of music videos within an Afrofuturist setting, therefore combining film, music and science-fiction elements, creating an opportunity for a particularly layered exploration. The multifaceted nature of the media used in Dirty Computer, along with the multi-layered nature of the issues that Monáe approaches, provoke deeper analysis of what Monáe conveys in Dirty Computer as well as how she conveys it. Notably, Monáe’s Dirty Computer belongs to the rising genre of Afrofuturism, “a style of literature, music, art, etc. that combines science-fiction elements with ideas from the culture and history of Africa and African people” (Cambridge Dictionary).  In Dirty Computer, people are called “computers” and “dirty computers.” The latter refers to people who do not conform and who are sent to “The House of the New Dawn” to be cleaned with a gas called the “nevermind,” which causes people to forget their memories and experiences.

The setting of a dystopian future where people must be cleansed of “[their] dirt, and all the things that make [them] special” does create a risk of reductionism, but Monáe subverts such a risk by integrating elements from modern American society and pop culture to link her commentary back into reality (Monáe 22:45). By combining Afrofuturist elements with a dystopian setting as an allegory for the oppressive institutions involved, Monáe maintains a strong commentary on a number of issues in modern American society. Through analysis of this commentary, it is clear that Monáe uses a feminist approach to the presentation and discussion of female sexuality, characterised by her rejection of the male gaze, in favour of a more overt and aggressive expression of sexuality, which breaks stereotypical standards of the “tame” female sexual identity.

To begin, dystopia meets reality in the song “Screwed,”  where Monáe comments on both the current state of politics and social justice in the USA as well as the owning of female sexuality by playing on the lyrics “We’re so screwed[…] let’s get screwed” (16:28-17:05). Although the lyrics do not reflect this, it can be argued that the commentary relates primarily to the USA’s social and political situation. While the protagonists are running away from government drones, Monáe shows the audience real-life videos of bombings and wars, as well as the Statue of Liberty, effectively bringing the narrative into an American focus and away from the dystopian setting with this small integration of real media. Monáe’s lyrics imply that “we”  are so “screwed” due to the wars and injustices that the USA is involved in, but there is another more covert meaning in this.

In addition to “Screwed” implying the destructive implications of war, Monáe’s lyrics also express her sexual desire almost as a solution to these very injustices: “let’s get screwed” she sings, boldly and assertively, but not in a commanding manner. This declaration is almost an invitation, a solution to the previous “We’re so screwed.” This is further highlighted in the line “You’ve fucked the world up now, we’ll fuck it all back down” again playing on the slang meaning of “fucking” versus the literal meaning. Here, Monáe’s lyrics express to the audience that the world needs more sexual liberation and love, to overcome all the hate and catastrophe. Sex, used in slang in many forms to express something extremely wrong or bad, is given a new perspective: rather than representing oppression, sex is a path to finding one’s own power for change.

Furthermore, by using pronouns such as “we” in the last quote, Monáe creates a sense of unity with the audience and actively involves the listener, thus making her commentary more relatable. However, she also does not shy away from pointing fingers to those who are to blame. She does this with the intentional use of “you” in “you’ve fucked the world up now.” “You,” in this case, can be interpreted as the government, the institutions that uphold traditions meant to restrict individuality and freedom of expression. However, Monáe also points a more direct finger at the government later in the Emotion Picture. In the music video for the song “Pynk,” some characters are seen wearing underwear with the words “it grabs back” (Monáe 25:55). This is a very direct and obvious dig at former President Donald Trump’s infamous sexist quote regarding “grabbing [women] by the pussy”; this act of violation is a symbol of male power in the US trying that often uses sex to control and belittle women (“Access Hollywood”). Here too, Monáe manages to seamlessly sew commentary on the reality of the United States within the framework of her dystopian setting.

Once again, sexual openness and assertiveness are presented as a solution: Trump’s demeaning phrase, both sexually and in terms of power, is responded to with the aggressive assertion that women will grab (sex and power) back. In fact, throughout the emotion picture, power and sex are strongly interlinked, as Monáe states in “Screwed”: “Everything is sex, except sex, which is power, you know power is just sex, now ask yourself who’s screwing you” (Monáe 17:49-17:56). These powerful lyrics highlight the importance of women–especially minority women–claiming their sexuality as their own and reclaiming the power that the male-female power dynamics have taken from them by sexualising, objectifying, and “othering” women. Ultimately, sex is power, and Monáe tells us that both have been too long in the hands of men. Monáe further advocates for women’s sexual empowerment by rejecting traditional depictions of women in relation to sex. Traditionally, women’s sexual identity in media has been restricted to a few archetypes: two of these are the shy, private, understated attitude, and the femme fatale attitude presented through the male gaze. Laura Mulvey,  in her theory of the male gaze in film, states that often in media, women are the object of sexual desire rather than the subjects, as to cater to the pleasure of heterosexual men (809). Monáe makes it abundantly clear that her work rejects such archetypes of women, centering on women as the protagonists in her narrative.

This dichotomy between women as objects versus subjects becomes evident when comparing Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” music video, which has been widely criticised for female objectification, to Monáe’s video for “Screwed.” In Thicke’s video, women are sexualised in a way that makes them completely passive, while at the same time being presented as temptresses and playthings for the men. They look longingly into the camera and dance by shaking their hips while being backed against a wall, while Thicke sings “I tried to domesticate you, but you’re an animal, baby it’s in your nature” (Thicke 0:37-0:45). Here the audience sees women literally compared to animals and men trying to “domesticate them.” Beyond the problematic lyrics, throughout the video sex is used to belittle and control women: on various occasions, Thicke and Pharrel are seen holding a woman by her ponytail, a demeaning gesture somewhat reminiscent of a leash (Thicke 0:50). The various women are being observed by the male characters, and seem to put up a show for them while the male singers simply stand and dance.

Monáe’s representation of women’s sexuality shows completely different elements: all throughout Dirty Computer the predominantly female characters are seen interacting with each other and are arguably given personalities through their dynamic actions. More importantly, power is distributed equally between genders, as opposed to being presented as a sexual object for the pleasure of the male observer.  For example, one of the female characters holds a trumpet to her crotch mimicking a phallus extension to her body, a silly and sexual action that implies a more masculine energy, which would be seen as improper for a woman to express by traditional standards (Monáe 16:50). This boldness in reclaiming sexuality rejects concepts of  “impropriety.” This rejection is important because of the influence it has on a female audience that may think that being sexually explicit and bold is only acceptable for men. Rather than depicting a passive and shy woman looking at the camera and biting her lip like Emily Ratajkowsky in “Blurred Lines,” Monáe creates a different environment. In Dirty Picture, women are not just the observed, striving to please male ideals, but instead quite literally take their sexual identity into their own hands, as portrayed by the same aforementioned trumpet later being used as a camera to record Monáe and a man looking at each other longingly (17:39-17:52). A more literal signal of Monáe’s deliberate rejection of the male gaze is conveyed through costume: Monáe wears a shirt that reads “Subject, not object” obviously confronting Mulvey’s theory of the male gaze with a feminist perspective. These important elements, from costume to actions, subvert traditional depictions of women in music videos by giving female characters the role of the observer rather than the observed.

Another key difference is that in Monáe’s videos, sexual dynamics are not as reductive as the traditional male-female dichotomy. We see same-gender couples, and even what seems to be a polygamous relationship between Monáe, a female love interest, and a male love interest. In rejecting traditional ideals of female sexuality, Monáe also explores ideas of sexual and gender identities, reminding us that women’s sexuality is not as restricted and homogeneous as “Blurred Lines” depicts.

Monáe’s overt ownership of her sexuality, her rejection of the male gaze, and her encouragement to reflect on how sex and power are interrelated all encompass what a female perspective can do for Afrofuturism, and how the genre is evolving to include these issues. Jonita Davis highlights the importance of this new, fresh perspective, and the reason why it is so revolutionary in her article “How Black Women are Reshaping Afrofuturism” when she says: “Those inner lives and experiences of Black women are still largely uncharted for the entertainment public” (12). Having black women represented in media, and specifically in science-fiction, as strong, independent, powerful central characters is so important to so many black women who may be disappointed by the lack of representation in media and art. Positive representation can make real differences in both the way that a group is perceived by others and the way that people perceive themselves; women creators including female representation in Afrofuturism is a stepping stone in creating a more inclusive standard for both media and art.

Arguably, Dirty Computer may have even inspired and opened doors for Cardi B and Meghan Thee Stallion’s “WAP,” a very sexually explicit song that came out in 2020. In fact, a version of “WAP’s” iconic dance move, twerking while doing the splits, can be seen in 2018’s Dirty Computer (Monáe 31:28). Despite its popularity, WAP has been heavily criticised by many for being vulgar, including congressional candidates (Wood). These critiques from the public reflect a typical reaction to women being overt and bold about sex and their bodies in the same way that men are. On the other hand, those who support “WAP” in its entirety affirm its valuable representation of black women in a male-dominated industry (rap) publicly, who take their power back by unapologetically expressing ownership of their bodies and sexuality. That is the legacy and the importance of Dirty Computer, which seamlessly uses media to subvert expectations of black female sexuality, and creates a space and precedent for others, especially black female artists, to do the same.

Overall, Monáe’s work depicts women as central, independent characters as well as overtly sexual beings: “powerful with a little bit of tender,” as Monáe puts it in “Make Me Feel” (Monáe 20:09). Monáe tells us that women don’t have to fit into an antiquated archetype; women are multi-layered, and can be bold, sweet, sexual, and assertive at the same time. By being outspoken about sex and sexuality, Monáe rejects the male gaze and the sexist idea of a woman as a passive object to be observed. By doing so, Monáe’s Emotion Picture brings sexual power back into women’s hands. The representation of women as free to explore their sexual identities outside of societal standards has the power to impact people who simply have not been exposed to these kinds of messages in media and art. We can only hope that Dirty Computer will inspire more similar content of sex and body positivity for women, and that through such content, societal standards may be adjusted to a reality that centers the autonomy of women and takes ownership of female sexuality.

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Works Cited

Abera, Tsion. “Blurred Lines, Not So Much: Double Standards At Play For Women In Music Videos.” Rewired News Group, 2013, https://rewirenewsgroup.com/article/2013/10/24/blurred-lines-not-so-much-double-standards-at-play-for-women-in-music-videos

“Afrofuturism.” Cambridge Dictionary, 2022. Web. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/afrofuturism.

Benard, Akeia A. F. “Colonizing Black Female Bodies Within Patriarchal Capitalism: Feminist and Human Rights Perspectives.” Sexualization, Media, & Society, vol 2, no. 4, 2016. SAGE Publications, https://doi.org/10.1177/2374623816680622.

Davis, Jonita. “How Black Women Are Reshaping Afrofuturism.” Yes! Magazine, 2020, https://www.yesmagazine.org/social-justice/2020/04/24/how-black-women-are-reshaping-afrofuturism/.

Monáe, Janelle. “Dirty Computer.” Youtube, 2018, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdH2Sy-BlNE&t=1093s. Accessed 9 Oct 2020.

Mulvey, L. “Visual Pleasure And Narrative Cinema.” Screen, vol 16, no. 3, 1975. Oxford University Press (OUP), https://doi.org/10.1093/screen/16.3.6. Accessed 6 Feb 2022.

Thicke, Robin. “Blurred Lines.” Youtube, 2013, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyDUC1LUXSU. Accessed 1st February 2022

Wood, Mikael. “Review: Cardi B And Megan Thee Stallion’s ‘WAP’ Is A Savage, Nasty, Sex-Positive Triumph.” Los Angeles Times, 2020, https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/music/story/2020-08-07/cardi-b-megan-thee-stallion-wap-review.

Image credit: SH Skyline at Night, by Ryan Ouyang

by Ishita Jaiswal

Read the Faculty Introduction.

In the early hours of the morning, a cab enters a completely empty New York City street and stops in front of a grayish-brown building containing a Tiffany’s store. From the cab descends a beautiful woman. She pays the driver, and stands facing a Tiffany’s window, eating what looks like a bagel and drinking coffee in a to-go cup. She looks melancholic, or perhaps the forlorn background music of Henri Mancini’s “Moon River” on a harmonica makes her appear that way. She stands there for a few minutes, but as the sun rises further, she walks away, towards her home.

This is the opening scene from the 1961 film Breakfast at Tiffany’s, one of the most iconic romantic comedies of Hollywood. The woman in the scene, played by Audrey Hepburn, is Holly Golightly, a regular patron of fashionable cafes, or “café-society girl,” of New York (Merriam-Webster). While the scene itself is enrapturing with its landscape and music, what stands out is Holly’s attire. More specifically, her dress. Holly wears a floor-length, all-black dress with a side-slit and fashionable neckline. This dress, made by Hubert De Givenchy, a French couturier, falls in a category of dresses with a name that resonates with women across the globe even today: the “Little Black Dress,” or in short, the LBD. This seemingly regular piece of clothing has been written about extensively, portrayed numerous times in films and television, and redesigned repeatedly by couturiers around the world. But what is it about this article of clothing that makes it worthy of such attention?

While the Little Black Dress may be simple in appearance, its depiction of empowered femininity, freedom, and liberation inspires profound discussions about embracing traditionally defined ideas and cultural definitions of womanhood. This stereotypically feminine attire and its history speaks volumes about reclaiming, displaying, and propagating femininity –the set of characteristics that have been biologically, culturally, and historically associated with women– while continuing to liberate and empower the female body. Iconic designers like Coco Chanel have championed the LBD and other similar dresses as perfect instruments to reclaim and proudly display femininity while liberating the female body from the constraints of uncomfortable and impractical clothing.

However, feminist theorists like Simone De Beauvoir have called this same piece of clothing an instrument of “feminine narcissism” (Beauvoir 585). The story of the LBD and the Coco Chanel’s feminist beliefs seem to be in sharp contrast to that of Beauvoir, a contrast which reignites the debate about the nature of femininity and whether or not its existence is a myth. In a pursuit to further explore this debate and its implications regarding fashion and feminism, it is important to explore the history of LBD, investigate its rise to popularity, and analyze Chanel and Beauvoir’s respective views. In doing so, it can be argued that the little black dress, or feminine fashion of all kinds, remains alive despite ideologies like Beauvoir’s becoming extremely widespread because femininity is not a myth, but rather an active and important component of expression and liberation.

To begin, the term “little black dress” did not originate with the Givenchy dress featured in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. American poet and writer, Shelley Puhak, while outlining the origins of the Little Black Dress in an article for The Atlantic, discusses how black dresses had been designed and worn much before the 19th century. Between the 16th and the 18th century, dresses went from being an expensive kind of attire meant for aristocrats to being the uniform of household maids and working-class women (Puhak). The little black dress and its famous legacy have their beginnings in the 1910s, in the atelier of Gabrielle Bonheur “Coco” Chanel (Puhak). To reiterate, Chanel wasn’t the first person to have designed a short black dress, but she was the one responsible for bringing it into the limelight of high fashion and subsequent ubiquitous popularity (“Vogue” 0:30–0:36). In 1912, an actress named Suzanne Orlandi appeared publicly wearing a Chanel-brand LBD, but it wasn’t until 1926 that this simple and elegant women’s dress became an absolute hit (Museum). Vogue America published a picture of this dress that year dubbing it “Chanel’s Model T,” comparing it to Ford’s widely popular automobile Model T (“Vogue” 0:40–1:00). Vogue also called it “the frock that all the world will wear,” and they were right in assigning such a comparison to Chanel’s LBD (“Vogue” 0:40–0:50). Within the following two decades, the little black dress became a global fashion statement worn by celebrities, socialites, and actors wherever dresses were popular and accepted forms of clothing (Goldstone). Before the LBD, black wasn’t the preferred color for most designers. It was associated with mourning and grief before the Victorian era (Puhak). Towards the latter part of the 1800s, it became a colour of the lower class, and black dresses were seen as a “hand me down for the help” or a required uniform for shopgirls (Puhak). As Chanel brought the color black into high fashion, it became synonymous with style and luxury for everyone (Vaughan). Even today, it is often recognized as a quintessential element in women’s wardrobes. In modern times, women like Princess Diana, Victoria Beckham, Kate Middleton, and Beyonce have worn it (Brunker). At the same time, fast fashion companies like Zara, H&M, and Topshop have produced numerous renditions of the LBD for the greater public. Coco Chanel herself said “I imposed black; it’s still going strong today, for black wipes out everything else around” (Picardie). Overall, it is clear that the little black dress’ unique and attractive design made it a top choice for women of all backgrounds.

However, it wasn’t solely the colour or the beauty of the dress that made it a favourite of women around the world. The LBD has a rich history in terms of fashion and society, which is important to explore in order to understand how it enabled women to reclaim and proudly wear their femininity whilst moving ahead with the times. When the little black dress was first designed, the world had just emerged from the first World War, with another brewing in Europe. The Great Depression came down on all social classes, leading to women entering the workforce in the 1930s and the worsening of many people’s economic situations (Rotondi). At that point, the population involved in the economy consisted mostly of men, who were the primary entrepreneurs and the workers. But the burden of the crashing economic reality was too much for them to bear alone. So, women–who, until that time, were largely responsible for household duties–entered the workforce to help revive the economy  (Rotondi). However, as women entered the workforce, they faced plenty of restrictions that prevented them from working efficiently. One of the most significant restrictions was their clothing. Since the medieval era and during the earlier part of the 1900s, women’s clothing had consisted of long gowns and dresses with cinched waists, corsets, boxed silhouettes, layers, and intricate necklines. This kind of attire was impractical for labor, especially in the factories and offices where women had recently started working in the 1930s (Chilton). So, they adapted to the pressing requirement of practical attire by wearing men’s clothes. Trousers and shirts made their way into their wardrobes, and dresses and skirts were ousted (“When Did Women Start Wearing Pants?”). Coco Chanel, however, opposed this adaptation for a small yet profound reason: by discarding their own dresses and adopting more manly clothes, women were inadvertently rejecting their femininity. However, it can be argued that this “rejection of femininity” represented by this fashion adaptation was not simply a result of the need for practicality that came with the changing times. This rejection may have been an implication of a gender ideology championed by Simone De Beauvoir in her magnum opus, The Second Sex, which was published around the same post-war period when traditionally feminine clothing fell in popularity. In The Second Sex, Beauvoir claims that gender, and the characteristics traditionally associated with it, is a “social construct,” which may have greatly influenced women’s fashion choices.

Since The Second Sex deals greatly with critiquing gender and femininity, it is important to contextualize this concept. Put simply, femininity is the set of attributes that shape, define, and describe a woman. Traditionally, femininity has been defined by nurturing traits and sensitivity (Windsor), sensuality and gentleness (Kite), and humility (Vetterling-Braggin). It also includes the desire to appear beautiful, well-kept, and attractive. But, in The Second Sex, Beauvoir termed femininity, or “the eternal feminine,” as an ambiguous and basic notion (289). She called the inherent set of characteristics that defined a woman a “myth,” and seemingly promoted the idea that nothing inherent defined the male or the female gender (Beauvoir 289). According to her, it was society and culture that formed, encouraged, and propagated the attributes associated with masculinity or femininity (Beauvoir 289). For her, these attributes were merely a way for men to deem women different and often inferior to them. She regarded femininity as a vague and baseless concept, likening it to a dress, which she saw as an equally vague and baseless picture of feminine expression. While discussing how women “dress up,” she claims that dressing up in feminine clothes “concretises feminine narcissism” (Beauvoir 585). She goes on to argue that fashion is merely a way to eroticise a woman and denies that it has anything to do with a woman’s desire to express herself (Beauvoir 585). In fact, for Beauvoir, a woman who thinks of her dress as an expression of her identity is someone who “suffers from not doing anything” (585). Such a commentary on dressing up and feminine clothing clearly demonstrates that Beauvoir’s ideology greatly opposed that of Chanel’s. While the latter claimed that traditionally feminine clothing championed the expression and propagation of femininity, the former called the very existence of women’s fashion into question. Furthermore, Beauvoir’s view that everything associated with gender was a myth and social construct gained popularity. With this rise in popularity, the inherent attributes that made women critical to society, from beauty to domesticity, started losing their significance.

However, even as Beauvoir and those who agreed with her championed this move away from an inherent idea of femininity and its expression via dresses, women like Coco Chanel continued to push against it. Chanel’s appreciation for femininity and its relationship to clothing is apparent when she says, “look for the woman in the dress. If there is no woman, there is no dress,” and “dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman” (“A Quote by Coco Chanel”). So, to ensure that women wouldn’t have to choose between practicality and femininity, she designed clothes that weren’t restrictive. Most of her designs did away with cinched waists, corsets, shoulder pads, and other aspects of a dress that would make it uncomfortable for a workplace. The little black dress was no exception; it was one of the first dresses to have a loose form without appearing too masculine and was comfortable and breathable. It did not have the traditional corseted cut and stitch, yet appeared delicate and feminine. Chanel designed the dress to look luxurious and feel effortless. It even drew ire from male journalists for being unlike usual dresses with a specific structure that highlighted the female body (Charles-Roux).

Even today, many adaptations of the little black dress appear feminine and elegant without being restrictive or impractical. Fashion designers have of course made revealing, impractical, and short versions of the LBD, but women can still easily find and wear a simple, decent, Chanel-like version of the LBD to work, without being impractical or distasteful. Chanel’s creation of the little black dress, and many of her other practical yet elegant designs, can be viewed as her opposition to Beauvoir’s claim that “fashion does not serve to fulfill [a woman’s] projects, but on the contrary to thwart them…the least practical dresses…are the most elegant” (586). Thanks to designers like Chanel, feminine expression in the form of clothing doesn’t have to be enslaved by impracticality. Rather, elegant dresses like the Little Black Dress are practical and fulfill a woman’s desire to express herself completely.

Throughout history, humans have found and enjoyed various ways to express themselves, including language (both written and spoken), music, and art. Fashion, too, is a form of art, and the way we dress is a form of language. So, for both men and women, their clothing represents what they want, how they see themselves, and how they wish to be seen (Edwards). Therefore, Beauvoir’s claim that women who think their dresses are a form of expression are narcissists who are not “doing anything” seems inappropriate at best (585). Considering that this claim stems from her rejection of “the eternal feminine,” her idea that femininity is a myth formed and propagated as a social agenda is also questionable. While several biological proofs exist reaffirming the legitimacy of traditionally feminine traits in women, the desire to express one’s gender identity is itself a proof of femininity being inherent to some extent. To say that women prefer dresses just to please the male gaze rather than wearing them because of their own desire is belittling. For women like Coco Chanel, dresses such as the LBD were a way to let women embrace their own ideas of outward femininity, while giving them a choice to communicate their gender identity without making them uncomfortable. Even today, the various manifestations of the LBD, and the countless other practical dresses inspired by it, continue to do the same.

Dressing up in LBDs, or any dress for that matter, is a choice women should feel empowered to make. Contrary to what Beauvoir argues, this choice does not mean a woman “has accepted her vocation as a sex object” (586). In fact, choosing to wear a dress amongst the plethora of modern fashion styles can be considered a form of expression that strengthens and reinforces a woman’s gender identity and her belief in her own inherent feminine traits. A woman preferring an LBD over trousers and a shirt should not be equated to her making herself “a prey to male desires,” but rather her celebrating femininity (Beauvoir 586). Thus, it can be argued that such a woman considers the traits of femininity to be neither rigid nor a “myth” utilized by society to oppress women.  A woman like Audrey Hepburn who wears the elegant and comfortable LBD may not only find it to be an expression of herself, but also a reinforcement of her power and significance. The iconic little black dress illustrates that Beauvoir’s critiques of dresses may make a patronizing statement about women’s fashion choices; instead, expressing femininity through clothes should be considered an active and important component of female empowerment.

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Works Cited

“A Quote by Coco Chanel.” Goodreads, 2021, www.goodreads.com/quotes/73850-dress-shabbily-and-they-remember-the-dress-dress-impeccably-and

Beauvoir, De Simone. The Second Sex. Simon de Beauvoir. Vintage Books USA, 2010.

Brunker, Alicia. “The Evolution of the Little Black Dress.” ELLE, 11 Feb. 2020, www.elle.com/fashion/g8192/evolution-of-the-little-black-dress.

“Cafe-Society.” Merriam-Webster, 2011. Web. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/english/cafe-society.

Charles-Roux, Edmonde (1981). Chanel and Her World. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.

Croizat-Glazer, Yassana. “A Look into The History of Black Dresses and Why There’s Nothing ‘Little’ About Them.” A WOMEN’S THING, 1 Mar. 2021, https://www.awomensthing.org/blog/history-black-dresses

Edwards, Vanessa. “Fashion Psychology: What Your Choice in Clothes Say About You.” Science of People, 21 Apr. 2020, www.scienceofpeople.com/fashion-psychology.

Flanner, Janet. “Coco Chanel’s Revolutionary Style.” The New Yorker, 14 Mar. 1931, www.newyorker.com/magazine/1931/03/14/31-rue-cambon

Goldstone, Penny. “A Short yet Comprehensive History of the Little Black Dress.” Marie Claire, 4 Aug. 2017, www.marieclaire.co.uk/fashion/little-black-dress-524293

Kite, Mary E. (2001). “Gender Stereotypes”. In Worell, Judith (ed.). Encyclopedia of Women and Gender, Volume 1. Academic Press. p. 563

Picardie, Justine. Coco Chanel: The Legend and the Life. 1st ed., It Books, 2010.

Puhak, Shelley. “The Little Black Dress’s Lost Underclass Origins.” The Atlantic, 17 Jan. 2018. www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2017/10/the-underclass-origins-of-the-little-black-dress/542910.

Rotondi, Jessica Pearce. “Underpaid, But Employed: How the Great Depression Affected Working Women.” HISTORY, 11 Mar. 2019. www.history.com/news/working-women-great-depression

Steele, Valerie. Paris Fashion: A Cultural History. 1st ed., Oxford University Press, 1988.

“The World According to Coco Chanel.” Harper’s BAZAAR, 13 Aug. 2017, www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/fashion/fashion-news/news/a31524/the-world-according-to-coco-chanel.

Vaughan, Hal (2011). Sleeping with the Enemy: Coco Chanel’s Secret War. New York: Knopf. pp. 160–64.

Vetterling-Braggin, Mary, ed. (1982). ‘Femininity,’ ‘Masculinity,’ and ‘Androgyny’: A Modern Philosophical Discussion. Rowman & Allanheld. p. 5.

Vogue. “Everything You Need to Know About the Little Black Dress | Vogue.” YouTube, uploaded by Vogue, 31 July 2020, www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGyANIRWMBo.

“When Did Women Start Wearing Pants?” Encyclopedia Britannica, www.britannica.com/story/when-did-women-start-wearing-pants

Wikipedia contributors. “Coco Chanel.” Wikipedia, 10 May 2021, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coco_Chanel.

Windsor, Elroi J. (2015). “Femininities”. In Wright, James D. (ed.). International Encyclopedia of the Social & Behavioral Sciences, Volume 8 (2nd ed.). Elsevier. pp. 893–897

Image credit: Cherry Blossom/Sky, by Annie Qu

by Cao Yi Er

Read the Faculty Introduction.

Welcome to the Art Exhibit

She went to an art exhibition yesterday.

Before she left for the art exhibition, she spent hours on her makeup, covering her dark circles and pimples that arose from the pressures of work and life. Among her piles of cheap belongings, she carefully picked out a Burberry dress, Chanel jewelry, Dior high heels, and an Hermes handbag, which she rented for the art exhibition. She put them on, stood in front of the mirror, and took a gorgeous selfie. The messy background of her old and small apartment looked weird compared to her well-dressed appearance.

She frowned at her apartment, but was satisfied with her outfit.

She walked out of her apartment, which was situated in an old and shabby neighborhood. She was too glamorous to fit in that environment.

I don’t belong here, she said to herself, grabbing “her” Hermes handbag tightly.

At the art exhibition, she wandered around, unable to appreciate the artworks.

She started to feel a bit bored, but a luxurious Rolex watch caught her eyes. Then she noticed the young man wearing the Rolex watch. She quietly followed him and observed the young man for a while.

He must be a rich and well-educated man, she concluded.

She went directly to him. “Incredible painting, isn’t it?” she asked.

The man looked at her, quickly scanned her from top to bottom, and answered, “Yes. Shall we walk around together?”

The conversation went on fluently, though they barely talked about art. As she expected, the man invited her for dinner.

She walked out of the exhibition, only to find he drove a BMW car. She felt angry and deceived.

How dare a man with a BMW flirt with me and ask to date me?

She dumped the man immediately after the dinner, turned to her WeChat group chat called  “Shanghai Ladies,” and complained about her experience.

“Sis, men driving BMWs are stingy! I thought he drove a Ferrari! He was such a fraud!”

“Yeah! Many diaosi (men who are poor) are seeking for baifumei (women who are rich and beautiful) in art exhibitions now.”

“Ewww, men like that suck!”

The above anecdote is not fictional, but based on a true story adapted from a conversation from the WeChat group chat called “Shanghai Ladies.” From the conversation, it is apparent that by pretending to be beautiful and rich, a girl tried to attract rich men, but was upset due to him not being rich as she expected, despite her lying to him.

Meet the Ladies

In the traditional sense, the term “Shanghai Lady” refers to young women who are native to Shanghai and come from upper-class families with prominent social status. Nurtured in such families, they often enjoy a high quality of life and opportunities to receive an elite education, thus growing into cultivated and virtuous ladies. Obviously, the girl in the anecdote is not a “Shanghai Lady” in the traditional sense. She and other girls like her are called the “Shanghai Ladies” and have been a topic of heated discussion ever since the release of a WeChat article on Oct 11, 2020, “我潜伏上海“名媛”群，做了半个月的名媛观察者” (“I hid in Shanghai Ladies group chat, and observed them for half a month,” translated by Yi Er Cao),  written by investigative journalist Li Zhonger. In order to gain some insight into this special social group, Li pretended to be a young lady and joined a WeChat group consisting of the so-called Shanghai Ladies. According to the post, Li paid ¥500 to be admitted because the group claimed to be available only for socialites to make friends and share resources like the latest news about luxury and fashion (Li). However, after he joined the group, he found out that the Shanghai Ladies group chat is just a platform for buying or renting luxurious goods and services by splitting the costs. The group chat members then take turns using the luxurious products, like Hermes handbags, in order to take photos with them (Li).

From the conversation in the WeChat post (Fig 1), it is clear that the women in the group chat live an upper-class life at the lowest costs by split buying and renting extravagances (Li). Four people each paying ¥350 can rent a Hermes bag for a month and each uses the bag for one week (Shanghai Ladies). Six people can enjoy a ¥500 high tea by paying ¥85 each (Shanghai Ladies). 40 people paying ¥125 each can afford a night in the ¥5000 Bulgari Hotel (Shanghai Ladies). 60 people paying ¥100 each can rent a Ferrari for one day (Shanghai Ladies). Even a pair of ¥600 second-hand Gucci stockings has been divided into 4 splits (Shanghai Ladies).

During their temporary ownership of various luxuries, the women take photos, post them online, and equip themselves for a social life of pretending to be rich. Through splitting costs via the group chat, they can temporarily be perceived as Shanghai Ladies in the traditional sense. This unique phenomenon of renting a wealthy look thus leads to several essential questions: Why do the women in the group chat attempt to construct their identities as upper-class? By what methods do Shanghai Ladies achieve class mobility with borrowed luxury goods? Most importantly, can membership in the Shanghai Ladies group chat truly help these women achieve class mobility?

This research paper seeks to answer those questions in order to look into the phenomenon of the Shanghai Ladies group chat members It is not hard to see that the reason why the Shanghai Ladies disguise themselves as upper class women is to achieve social class mobility and enter a higher social class through two potential methods: virtual class mobility and a more traditional mobility through marriage. On one hand, the Shanghai Ladies construct a false upper class identity online by taking photos of themselves living luxurious lifestyles with name brand products and posting the photos on social media. This online activity can be thought of as virtual class mobility. It is accomplished through receiving likes on their photos, which indicates that the women may be perceived as being upper class through recognition and approval from their followers. On the other hand, the Shanghai Ladies must split costs to rent or buy luxurious items and make themselves look wealthy in person to potentially attract and marry upper-class men. These practices in offline identity construction are often utilized to achieve social class mobility through a more traditional way: to find a rich male partner and share the property through marriage.

However, virtual and traditional class mobility do not really work because Shanghai Ladies only focus on superficial social capitals like receiving “likes” online, rather than cultural capitals like institutionalized education and knowledge. This may create a quandary between the identity and the self. The phenomenon of the Shanghai Ladies group chat reflects a new mode of establishing one’s identity, the struggle of women from lower social class in China, and the conflict between material desires and sustaining the true self.

This phenomenon goes beyond the Shanghai Ladies’ aspirations of class mobility; it reflects an external social issue of how we treat people who falsify their identity online. When this phenomenon was first investigated and exposed online, Li’s article was flooded with comments containing moral criticisms from the public, which later evolved into bullying for the Shanghai Ladies’ dishonesty and supposed vanity. This negative reaction from the masses is worth examining, as it reveals a sense of moral superiority on behalf of the online users who taunted the Shanghai Ladies. Through sociologist Steph Lawler’s theories of dual identities in “Getting Out and Getting Away: Women’s Narratives of Class Mobility,” the quandaries that the women encounter with class mobility will be explored and discussed in order to examine social responses to Shanghai Ladies.

Who Are the Shanghai Ladies?

Technically, the women in the group chat are not Shanghainese. They come from low-class families and poor regions in the proximity of Shanghai, aspiring to migrate to and make a living in Shanghai, a modern city full of opportunities. Due to their deficiency in education and knowledge, they could only take on minor-paid jobs, which can just sustain their basic life needs. Undeniably, the luxurious lifestyles and consumptions are far beyond what these women can afford. Therefore, they found a way to approach their dreams of living luxurious lifestyles, which was to be in the group chat “Shanghai Ladies.”

In a  conversation between a Shanghai Lady’s ex-boyfriend and Li, the author of “我潜伏上海“名媛”群，做了半个月的名媛观察者” (“I went undercover in Shanghai Ladies group chat, and observed them for half a month,” translated by Yi Er Cao), the ex-boyfriend depicts how his ex-girlfriend was deceived into the group chat. To join the group chat, she made a fake certificate of deposit, and turned to her boyfriend to borrow the ¥500 admission fee. Apparently, she was pursuing a lifestyle that is far beyond her consumption capacity.

So, what life are the Shanghai Ladies truly living? To better understand this, it is important to have a general knowledge of the social environment in Shanghai. According to China Statistical Yearbook 2021 compiled by National Bureau of Statistics of China, the average monthly salary in Shanghai is ¥14,323, while the average personal consumption in Shanghai is ¥3,544. The life the Shanghai Ladies are truly living can be seen from another investigative article “‘上海名媛群’女孩回应：心里住着灰姑娘，一元包邮买发圈”(“Response From Shanghai ladies: We are Cinderella internally,” translated by Yi Er Cao), in which a journalist interviews Fei Fei, a member of the Shanghai Ladies group chat, to learn more about the Shanghai Ladies. According to the conversation, Fei Fei works as a saleswoman and lives in a small apartment in a peripheral region in Shanghai. She earns an average salary of ¥5,000 Chinese yuan every month (approximately $789 USD), which sustains her lifestyle of purchasing basic necessities, using public transportation, and eating little to sustain a low weight and save money (Shanghai Ladies).  The money she earns only meets her daily expenditures, substantially limiting her access to luxurious products and services. Enjoying high tea in a deluxe hotel, wearing Chanel clothes, and carrying Hermes bags were simply unreachable dreams to someone earning Fei Fei’s salary. When she learned that she could enjoy those luxuries at low costs, she paid the admissions fee without hesitation and joined the group chat. By renting or splitting, she temporarily indulged herself in being a member of the upper class.

Overall, Fei Fei’s interview illuminates some common features of members of the Shanghai Ladies group chat. They come from lower class families and work ordinary and low paid jobs because of their limited education. They are already striving to make a living in a modern city, but are still aspiring to live an upper-class lifestyle.

Identity Construction and Class Mobility

To begin, the Shanghai Ladies’ possession of luxury may be a way of constructing their ideal or desired identity in the social sphere. Associate Professors of Marketing Grubb and Grathwohl’s article “Consumer Self-Concept, Symbolism and Market Behavior: A Theoretical Approach” proposes that “if a product is to serve as a symbolic communication device it must achieve social recognition, and the meaning associated with the product must be clearly established and understood by related segments of society” (24). As a symbolic communication device, possessing luxury items signals the owner’s fortune and social status, especially items with high prices and limited availability. It is commonly known that members of the upper class are more than able to purchase and use luxury items. They share knowledge of what kind of dressings they should be wearing, in what manner they should behave, and what kind of quality life they should be living. Therefore, if a person is living an upper-class lifestyle, they are likely to “achieve social recognition” and be accepted as upper-class (Grubb and Grathwohl 24).

Naturally, the aforementioned norms of owning luxury items are used when judging and assuming someone’s economic class status. Basically, the ownership of luxury or luxurious lifestyle becomes one of the differentiating standards used to identify the upper class from people earning an average salary. Thinking back to the anecdote, the Shanghai Lady was judging men according to what watch they wore. The watch brand was what she cared about the most before ever engaging with the man. This situation exemplifies the idea that “when the identity through appearance is considered, the actor (person) uses possessions like clothing, ornaments, and/or other products and brands to define his/her identity”; personal belongings are important hints of identity and social class when it comes to being a Shanghai Lady (Çadırcı and Güngör 271). By wearing luxurious clothes, carrying brand-name bags, and enjoying a high tea, Shanghai Ladies label themselves with these typical features of the upper class, behaving in their way even though they may never be capable of affording such modes of life. On one hand, by pretending and acting like upper-class women everyday, they may gradually convince themselves that they are members of this imagined identity. On the other hand, with these items signaling wealth, they can be perceived by other social members as upper class. Thereby, to some degree, they do succeed in constructing their identity as upper class women.

Furthermore, though temporarily owning luxury products may satisfy her desire to both present as and be perceived as rich, a Shanghai Ladies’ ultimate goal is to achieve class mobility through marriage into a higher class. In the conversation in the group chat, it is notable that “to take photos” is frequently expressed by Shanghai Ladies (Shanghai Ladies). They will take photos of themselves when they look like members of the upper class and are enjoying luxurious lifestyles, and then post the photos on social media like Weibo, RED, and WeChat Moments. It is stated in “Love My Selfie: selfies in managing impressions on social networks” that people “need affirmation” to “build an aggregate extended self together with friends, peers, and others” (Çadırcı and Güngör 273). This can account for the Shanghai Ladies’ behaviors of posting photos online, as it may help them manage their online personas as upper-class women. When representing themselves in social networking, they may gain admiration and envy from their friends, thus contributing to their self-esteem and superiority.  Fei Fei, the Shanghai Lady, always gets many “likes” as well as some “jealous talking” when she posts photos presenting her constructed upper-class self on WeChat Moments: “朋友圈给我点赞的人突然多了起来。开始还有个别人疯言疯语，我直接就屏蔽了。现在随便一发都是几十个赞。只能说有钱真好!” (“People who like my posts on WeChat suddenly increase a lot. At the beginning, there were some people talking nonsense, I just blocked them. Now I easily get many ‘likes’ when I post. Being Wealthy is great!” Translated by Yi Er Cao). The “likes” and attention on social media are potential advantages for the Shanghai Ladies who use borrowed luxury items to construct their false online identity as a rich woman. In this way, they may achieve virtual class mobility: class mobility achieved through online affirmations that demonstrate other people perceiving them as genuinely rich “Shanghai Ladies.” However,  achieving this recognition of being rich happens online and cognitionally. At the core, this “class mobility” is just a facade rooted in social media attention. The illusionary class mobility doesn’t turn their upper-class ambitions into reality. Instead, as shown by Fei Fei’s interview, what it does bring is online flattering and emotional fulfillment, which may tempt them deeper into self-deception and greed. This temptation is one of the many quandaries to be explored later.

Aside from virtual class mobility, some screenshots of the Shanghai Ladies’ conversations demonstrate their ambitions to move to a higher social class by marriage. As illustrated by the anecdote, Shanghai Ladies try to attract rich men in settings like art exhibitions to date them so that they can get expensive presents from them and even marry them, sharing the property and wealth. Ironically, they may feel deceived if the man they attract is not as wealthy as they expect because they have totally persuaded themselves into their imaginary identity. Admittedly, some men may be cheated into the false identity and marry them. Nevertheless, can lies about the Shanghai Ladies identity sustain love and marriage?

Quandary in Class Mobility

As inspected in the last section, Shanghai Ladies are already caught up in a dilemma between identity construction and class mobility, which arises from the gap between imagined upper-class identity and reality. The gap may give rise to shame of one’s self and identity. Evidence can be found in Lawler’s research “‘Getting out and Getting Away:’ Women’s Narratives of Class Mobility” on women who have gone through class mobility and moved to a higher class, where she discovers that women share a sense of shame related to their self and identity. In other words, Lawler’s research indicates that this may be because they feel like they can never be naturalized into the upper-class. Lawler also points out that “although these women have acquired a measure of symbolic and cultural capitals, they have not inherited these capitals, but ‘bought’ them within systems of education and training, or through the relationship of their adult lives” (13).

In other words, social class is not merely judged on material capitals, such as property like money and estates, it also requires cultural capitals like disposition, knowledge, taste, lifestyles that are acquired through long-term family and institutionalized education (Lawler 5). In other words, cultural capital implies how someone was nurtured from their birth and actually speaks louder for their social class. For example, during an interview conducted by Lawler, a woman expressed concern about her incapacity to speak French (15). This can be analogous to the incapacity to speak standard Mandarin without an accent in China, while another woman pointed out her lack of knowledge that comes from traveling and a decent education. Although women from the lower class can acquire new capitals through education and marriage, they “express a sense of cultural inadequacy and incompetency” and “relate the sense to class inequality” (Lawler 15). They do not intrinsically belong to the upper class, especially when class mobility is achieved through marriage, which doesn’t guarantee their eternal possession of capital considering the possibility of divorce. Thereby, women from lower social class may find it hard to understand upper-class life modes and habits. Women who achieved class mobility keep finding themselves conflicted by their new upper class status, thus having a low estimation of self and a sense of inferiority (Lawler 16).

In addition to experiencing a sense of inferiority, women tend to get caught up in “the gap between being and seeming” (Lawler 16). Class mobility leads to women having a dual identity: their former lower class status and current upper class status. This duality leads to a dilemma due to being unsure which identity is the “true self,” which is significant as the source of one’s sense of belonging (16). It is recorded in Lawler’s conversation that, when women have moved to the upper class, it is inevitable for them to meet their family members, who are still situated in the lower social class (16). Their interactions with their families expose them to the unerasable past as lower class, which reinforces their awareness of the inadequacy that derives from past life (16). Thus, this sense of inadequacy induces shame and confusion about which is the “true self.” This phenomenon is particularly common in China. Women work so hard to escape from the original social status and live a better life, nevertheless, they are overwhelmed with the guilt of abandoning the original identity because of their affection for their family. For the new identity, they spare no efforts to naturalize and internalize it, but they may be interrupted by the memory of the past and inherent deficiency in cultural capital, which comprises a person’s social assets such as education or travel experience (16). As Lawler explains, the two identities are so intertwined and inseparable that they lose the sense of belongings to either (16). The lack of an authentic sense of belonging can generate insecurity and shame, leaving them at a loss.

Aside from internal suffering, women are meanwhile under intentional and unintentional gazes and examinations externally. To move to a higher class, women need to struggle to fit in, be recognized and accepted by people who naturally belong to the upper class. Therefore, they may experience “moments when they were shamed by (the real or imagined) judgment of others” (Lawler 13). It is notable that others’ judgments can be real, but also can be imagined. Imagined judgments mainly come from women’s inferiority and sensitivity, and any minor expression or behavior that means no offense may be sensitively perceived and wrongly interpreted by women because of shame of self. Real judgments can be made intentionally by the public. For instance, one common type of judgment imposed on women revolves around how women achieve class mobility, whether they depend on their own capacity or depend on a man’s wealth, which they attract with their beauty. Also, women are culturally obliged to return to their family, give birth to children, and support the family rather than develop their own career. Such social norms are interwoven into women’s lives, attaching them to a family rather than allowing them to be an independent individual. After the Shanghai Ladies issue was exposed online, many people took to the internet to harass and degrade the women for their actions, casting an even darker light on their ambitions for class mobility.

Backlash Against Class Mobility Dreams: Social Response and Implications

After the publication of the WeChat article, the public learned of the existence of the Shanghai Ladies group and their absurd lifestyles. Nonetheless, the exposure of the Shanghai Ladies and their lifestyles points to a bigger issue of women’s class mobility. They are undertaking great pressure in pursuit of the upper social class, which is often futile due to their online actions that result in virtual class mobility and are dependent on superficial social capital. Aside from being ashamed of and confused by their identity, they are faced with overwhelming social opinions. Therefore, when exploring the Shanghai Ladies phenomenon, it is essential to be more understanding, empathetic, and considerate of the quandaries they are going through while attempting to achieve class mobility. Therefore, the Shanghai Ladies, from their class ambitions to their internal identity issues, may serve as inspiration to inspect our online actions carefully. To create a better social environment for struggling women, it is important to meticulously inspect ourselves and the social environment in Shanghai.

Nowadays, social media functions as an effective platform for disclosure with a wide reach of audience, the Shanghai Ladies’ dishonesty placed them at risk of being exposed as they were in the WeChat article “我潜伏上海“名媛”群，做了半个月的名媛观察者” (“I hid in Shanghai Ladies group chat, and observed them for half a month,” Translated by Yi Er Cao). After the Shanghai Ladies were revealed, the public reacted negatively to them. Users flooded the comments on the article: “Anyone split a boyfriend with me?” “Anyone split a down jacket with me? I use it in winter, and you use it in the rest of the year.” “No wonder there are so many young rich girls online, they are all so fake” (Shanghai Ladies). The public made fun of their ways of splitting purchases and renting luxury items. They laughed at their fake identity and vain dreams of marrying upper-class men. On the surface, the sharp criticisms may have represented people’s desire to signal their superiority over the women. Nonetheless, at a deeper level, the criticism may indicate the commenters’ inferiority. Before Shanghai Ladies were exposed, WeChat users would like and comment on their posts, some expressing their admiration, some doubting because of jealousy. However, upon learning the truth, people’s comments turned sarcastic. In the interview, Fei Fei expressed her dismay that she was using her money rather than stealing from anyone else or violating the law, which was her freedom to determine how and where to use her money (“Response from ‘Shanghai Ladies’, 2010). She couldn’t understand why people were being so harsh to them, using sarcastic words to bully them (“Response from ‘Shanghai Ladies’, 2010). It is worth affirming that however inappropriate the Shanghai Ladies’ measures are, they are still legal methods to achieve class mobility.

In the video “对上海名媛指责过后，我发现错误在我 (“After blaming Shanghai Ladies, I find mistakes lie in myself,” Translated by Yi Er Cao) made by Xiang Luo, a famous professor and director of the Institute of Criminal Law of the China University of Political Science and Law, he points out that when making moral judgments on Shanghai Ladies, we shouldn’t forget to examine ourselves (00:53). People may criticize Shanghai Ladies for showing off the luxury which doesn’t belong to them on social media, but they should ask themselves as well, are they also showing off something in their daily lives? On social media, some people show off their wealth and reputation, while some show off their indifference to fame and fortune; some show off their popularity and social networking, while some show off their knowledge or high-quality diploma (01:11). In other words, in response to the Shanghai Ladies, people are subconsciously showing off their superiority of virtue by delivering sharp criticism of Shanghai Ladies. As a consequence, the public are more or less committed with such moral corruption, pursuing something vain like Shanghai Ladies. Luo also maintains that on one hand, people gain a sense of self-satisfaction through criticizing others’ mistakes, which frees us from regretting and repenting our own mistakes (01:30). People tend to vent their indignation and hatred to a small group, acting as an innocent judger. Luo’s work helps illuminate that the Shanghai Ladies were exposed and targeted by people who may have felt that they could blame the Shanghai Ladies so that they didn’t have to take the responsibility for such moral corruption.

In light of Luo’s review on moral superiority, as a social member, what can an individual do to counter this social trend? From my perspective, it is preferred to be more critical of one’s self instead of others. Any criticism should finally lead to self-inspection and self-reflection. Are we reinforcing the stereotype of the upper class by attaching importance to luxury? Are we reinforcing sexist stereotypes of women by assuming their class mobility is the result of depending on men? Are we contributing to the social pressure on women? These are some deeply rooted dilemmas and stereotypes that help construct the social class system, which is hard or impossible to eliminate. If our social participation is dominated by sharp criticism, we will inevitably become Internet troll, or people who often engage in online quarrels. These reflections may not only effectively prevent us from becoming blindly cynical critics and bullies when mistakes happen, but also potentially make us rational and sensible thinkers who learn from past mistakes and look forward to the future.

Conclusion: Let Bubbles Touch the Sky

The Shanghai Ladies issue was sensational news. The disclosure of the group chat’s true nature exposed the Shanghai Ladies’ fake identities, evoked social indignation and criticism, and triggered discussions about identity, morality, and socio-economic mobility. The Shanghai Ladies constructed false upper class identities both online and in person by renting and splitting costs of luxury goods. Their methods of virtual and traditional (via marriage) class mobility were often unsustainable, leading some women like Fei Fei to feel caught up in an internal dilemma between the construction of their imagined identity and their actual low-income status. This gap often led to shame, and when exposed, their shame was exacerbated by criticism from a judgemental online community. Both the internal quandary and external online bullying emphasize that many people are often attempting to signal something, whether it’s wealth like the Shanghai Ladies, or a sense of false virtue, like those who shamed the women for pretending to be rich.

The class mobility dreams of Shanghai Ladies are reminiscent of bubbles. Bubbles look colorful and shiny externally, easily floating up to the sky. However, they will never touch the sky because as they approach the sky, they are too fragile to undertake the pressure, destined to break and disappear momentarily. Like bubbles, the Shanghai Ladies dream of flying to the sky, moving to a higher class. As they get closer to the upper class, they will find their dreams so vulnerable that they are destined to burst into nothing because they simplify the idea of the upper class into superficial capital and are faced with the potential quandary of dual identity. They may never achieve mobility unless they rely on themselves to make a living and develop cultural capitals at the same time. They may fortunately ride a wind to fly higher, but they eventually have to undertake the consequences of lying and, potentially, a bursted bubble of a class dream.

Addendum: Translation of Pictures

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Works Cited

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Grubb, Edward L., and Harrison L. Grathwohl. “Consumer Self-Concept, Symbolism and Market Behavior: A Theoretical Approach.” Journal of Marketing, vol. 31, no. 4, 1967, pp. 22–27. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/1249461. Accessed 20 Nov. 2020.

Lawler, Steph. “ ‘Getting out and Getting Away’: Women’s Narratives of Class Mobility.” Feminist Review, no. 63, 1999, pp. 3–24. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/1395585. Accessed 6 Nov. 2020.

Li, Zhonger, “wo qianfu shanghai mingyuanqun, zuole bangeyuede mingyuan guanchazhe 我潜伏上海“名媛”群，做了半个月的名媛观察者” [I hid in “Shanghai Ladies” group chat, and observed them for half a month]. 12 Oct. 2020. https://finance.sina.com.cn/chanjing/gsnews/2020-10-12/doc-iivhvpwz1636883.shtml

Luo, Xiang. “Dui shanghai mingyuan zhize guo hou, wofaxian cuowu zaiwo 对上海名媛指责过后，我发现错误在我” [After blaming Shanghai Ladies, I find mistakes lie in myself], bilibili. Web. 16 Oct. 2020, https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1Mv411k788

National Bureau of Statistics of China, China Statistical Yearbook 2021. http://www.stats.gov.cn/tjsj/ndsj/2021/indexch.htm

“Shanghai mingyuanqun nvhai huiying: xinli zhuzhe huiguniang yiyuan baoyou maifaquan上海名媛群女孩回应：心里住着灰姑娘，一元包邮买发圈” [Response From ‘Shanghai Ladies’: We are Cinderalla internally] 网易. Web. 14 Oct. 2020: https://www.163.com/dy/article/FOT18DMV0525CHJG.html

Image credit: Girl Looking Up, by Ryan Ouyang