Squibs and Disability Studies

I would like to discuss a group that seems to go largely undiscussed in disability studies and by the wizarding world—squibs, or in their muggle incarnation, the learning disabled. Characters such as the custodian Filch, Harry’s neighbor, Mrs. Figg, and even a character such as Neville Longbottom, struggle with the essential skill in being a wizard, performing magic, though they are born into the wizarding world. This lack of an essential part causes the “normal” wizards to react to squibs as one might react to someone with a physical deformity. For example, in The Deathly Hallows, an aunt of Ron’s makes an interesting comment about squibs and their place in the wizarding world, stating back in her day, those with minimal or no magical powers, but were part of a wizarding community, were often sent off to muggle schools and seemed to be largely ignored by their families. One can compare this to the institutionalizing we non-magical people do to our most mentally ill or intellectually or even physically disabled children and adults. There is even a sense of shame that is discussed within the books in regards to squibs. Take, for example, Neville’s own story of how impatient his family was for his magic to manifest itself and the great relief they felt when it finally did (I think of this in comparison to a speech delay in some children)  or the presumed tale of Dumbledore’s sister and how, according to rumors, she was hidden away because her family was so ashamed that she was a squib. Even Ron mentions an accountant cousin with whom his family has minimal contact (it’s assumed his cousin is not particularly magical, due the context of the discussion).

In disability studies, physical disabilities are viewed as things that can be embraced or utilized in an innovative way (Shape Structures Story, Thomson)—just because someone does not fit the norm that has been the precedent, it doesn’t mean s/he is suddenly rendered useless—this applies to intellectual disabilities as well. As an article by Marten Soder points out (and as I mentioned previously), disability can often be a structure of society based on the impediments society places before those who are perceived to be disabled. There is much emphasis on how the disabled look rather than how they think (in fact, I believe there is an emphasis on how “normally” and clearly the physically disabled think and feel), that we forget that there are those who are viewed as being disabled due to their non-normate approach to thought or intellectual (or magical) performance. The squibs of the wizarding world and this are often segregated into special or different classrooms or schools, removed from the culture they were born into, and often times looked down upon as something less. What is more, you can never make a squib a witch or wizard, just as you can never make a child with Down Syndrome a child without–but you can give a paraplegic a wheelchair or a deaf person the ability to communicate with ASL. While Squibs and the learning disabled are ever bit as “disabled” by our culture as someone with a physical disability, they are  not given as much opporutunity, I believe, by society to integrate or even segregate themselves on their own terms (which is perhaps why there is much less focus on the mentally/learning disabled than on the physically disabled).

Lacan, Objet A, and a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

In our previous class discussion, we touched upon the Lacanian term, objet petit autre (objects with a little otherness, 81). Lacan and Coats describe the objet petit autre as representing “that part of himself that the individual loses at birth, and which may serve to symbolize the most profound lost object” (81). We also discussed the Shel Silverstein story, The Missing Piece, which gives a literal picture of what the objet petit autre is: A small piece of ourselves that we perceive to be missing, but even after we gain a piece to fill the whole we feel needs filling, we still desire. What we did not discuss in class was how the concept of objet petit autre works in the classic children’s book, Alice through the Looking Glass.

Coats explains that Carroll (or Charles Dodgson) looks at the character of Alice as his objet petit autre. “She, like his ideal reflection,” writes Coats, “exists as a rem(a)inder of self-alienation, as as reminder of lack, but also, in the matter of objet a, as a suggestion of the possibility of amelioration. In her, lack transcends the physical and is poignantly etched in his psyche as a great aching to preserve an impossible dyadic relationship with the Other” (83). In other words, Alice represents Dodgson’s desire to take hold of childhood, either his own or a non-fictional Alice’s, and uses the story of Alice through the Looking Glass to attempt to prevent Alice from growing up. Coats explains, “Having recognized the implications of his [Dodgson/Carroll] own Symbolic castration, he seeks to save her from hers” (84). This, of course, cannot happen, and, as Coats points out, the story is filled with a desire–either to “escape” and assume the “I” identity, in the case of the story’s Alice, or to prevent that from happening, as Carroll attempts to do in the story.

The idea of searching for one’s objet a (and whether or not you can find it or if its presence does put an end to desire for that unattainable Other) has been alluded to in other children’s stories. My example comes from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, by Judith Viorst. Alexander is a little boy who has pretty crummy day: He doesn’t get a toy in his cereal box, he can’t sit by the seat he wants on the way to school, he doesn’t get a dessert in his lunch pack, the shoe store doesn’t have the kind of shoes he wants, and the cat won’t sleep with him that night. All this, among other things, makes up his day, but the most significant aspect of all this is the fact that he’s not getting something (anything, really) that he wants. The idea is that Alexander’s day would go better if he just could get what he wants, so essentially, all these things (cereal box toys, shoes, desserts, cats) are a series of objets a. The less that Alexander gets, the more he wants and therefore the more miserable he is.

The book ends on an interesting note. All throughout the book Alexander insists that things would probably be better in Australia, but on the last two pages of the book, that changes. “It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. My mom says some days are like that. Even in Australia.” What Alexander’s mom is suggesting is that it doesn’t matter if you get what you desire, you will still always want something, just as the circle with the supposedly missing piece still desired (though for something different) even after it got what it thought it wanted.

Vampire MILFs

Dear old mom. In our culture, the mother is generally a very wholesome concept–think Norman Rockwell paintings and June Cleaver. Often, mothers are seen as the key figure of a home, being referred to as homemakers, housewives, and stay-at-home moms. For those of us in our culture who actually had this presence in our homes growing up in addition to being bombarded with this socially accepted (and, in many ways, expected) role, the figure of Darla in “Buffy” is extremely uncanny.

Darla is Angel’s mom. She brought him into this life as a vampire and helped “raise” him to be a powerful and violent vampire. In many ways, the way Darla interacts with Angel is reminiscent in how a mother would interact with her son. She seems to truly care for him (as much as an amoral, supernatural being can, anyway), saying she misses him. She’s intensely jealous and (for lack of a better word) belligerent towards Angel’s new love interest, Buffy, falling into the overly jealous and protective mother stereotype (world’s worst mother-in-law?). There is also the sort of bizarre (as well as uncanny) “family” that Angel was formally a part of–the master vampire as the patriarch, Darla as the matriarch, and then perhaps Angel (who the master vampire said he had wanted as his right hand guy) and the little boy as the kids. Darla even has a sweet, almost motherly voice–very calm and in a high, breathy register. Also, technically, there was penetration that began the process of Angel’s conception as a vampire, but that leads us straight into the total uncanny-ness of the motherly role Darla plays.

First of all, that penetration occurs between Darla and Angel in a variety of ways. There is the initial vampire fangs to victim penetration, followed by any number of sexual penetrations between Angel and Darla. This is not how the typical mother-son relationship plays itself out. It directly feeds into Freud’s Oedipal complex, except, instead of the son, Angel, being forced to suppress his desire for his mother, he, as a supernatural creature who seems to dwell only within the Id, he’s able to feed this desire to both his and Darla’s hearts content. Interestingly, we, in our discussions over Freud’s Oedipal complex, never really touched on whether or not the mother desires any sort of sexual encounter with her son. It’s clear Darla does in her continuous attempts to seduce Angel, both with sex and with human blood (when she comes to his home and when she bites Buffy’s mom), and this only adds to her being uncanny. Most of all, Darla is dangerous, most definitely to Buffy, Angel’s love interest, but also quite possibly to him as well. While Darla desired Angel at the time, her volatile behavior suggests that her feelings towards could potentially changed, given enough fear for her own survival. So, of course, mothers in the homely sense, are not dangerous. In fact, they are quite the opposite, but Darla, as the uncanny mother, turns that idea on its head.

This idea of the unhomely/uncanny mother is seen in almost the exact same way in another vampire show, True Blood. Bill, the Angel equivalent for the show, also has a maker/mother who harbors sexual desires for him, and in the same way Darla went around with Angel, wreaking havoc and teaching him just how bad a vampire can be, Bill and his maker had the same relationship. When Bill decided he was tired of being this creature of evil and destruction, he left his maker, but years later he is still dogged by her. The difference here, however, is that Bill doesn’t seem to repress his desire for her because he senses the wrongness of their incestuous relationship, but because he doesn’t like her as a person (she really is a pain in the ass) and because he’s found love with Sookie Stackhouse. I think this is an interesting way to look at vampires (or any sort of creature who typically dwells solely in the id), because Bill, who is considered to be a vampire with a conscience, still doesn’t toe the same moral line as his human counterparts. I probably would have written about this if it hadn’t been months since I last was able to watch True Blood.

Ladies, Gentlemen….and Moms

The latest issue of Better Homes and Gardens has arrived in my mailbox. Due to the magazine’s intended audience, nearly every ad is directed towards a female reader, but the mode by which ads attempt to sell their products does vary. There are multiple feminine models with products ranging from chocolate to cars to air freshener, as well as masculine models that tend to feature products such as health foods or household cleaning products. I would even argue there is a third model of advertisement, specific to this kind of magazine—the mommy model. The ads don’t feel like they strongly fit into either masculine or feminine models (as we’ve seen defined), but speak directly to the supposed desires of a mom (health and happiness of her children).

The first ad I looked at is bit of a different take than one might expect using the feminine model. It’s a Fruit of the Loom ad for “stylish, comfortable bras and panties specifically tailored for all your wonderful curves”. While it definitely purports the features Barthel mentions that are typical to feminine model ads (pleasing oneself, making oneself into the beautiful “chosen one”), the target audience, full-figured women, are not being shown how to down-play their size, but told to embrace their figures (as implied by the scantily clad model and the title, both Size L and Size Lovely). The image instills an idea that non-model sized women should be confident in their bodies and that it is a beauty unto itself. This is different than one might expect in our “be thin or die” society, where the very thin are typically prized as beautiful and their images are used to lure women into buy products, rather than plus-sized women.

The second ad I looked at was in the masculine mode, but most likely geared towards a woman (considering the source). It’s for Cascade Complete Pacs for dishwashing. The ad depicts a factory (a busy, not passive, place) where these small but powerful pacs are being filled with not one, but TWO “dishwashing forces”. Together, these dish detergents will “conquer tough foods and greasy messes.” The powerful punch of the language certainly has a masculine ring to it (like a verbal equivalent to the cleaning product spokesman, Mr. Clean). There is also a sense of “exactingness and choice”, because the abilities of the product, as well as a Better Homes and Gardens award are listed within the advertisement.

The last ad I looked at was an ad for McDonald’s, and it fits into my invented category of the mommy model. It depicts a mom and her daughter lovingly embracing as the daughter clings to a Happy Meal box. The ad explains how a simple trip to McDonald’s can not only make you, the mom, and your child happy, but you have the added bonus of helping the Ronald McDonald House charity as well. “She’s happy and I’m happy to help,” the mom says. This is all explained beside pictures of “nutritious” Happy Meals, sick kids being helped out, and a photo of a Ronald McDonald house. All in all, this ad not only encourages moms to bring their kids to McD’s, which will make their kids happy (and presumably healthy, because kids’ meals come with apples now, instead of fries), but it also helps out other children, who are in need, expounding upon that motherly desire to care for others. Most ads in the mommy model play to this “motherly desire” to do right by or please children, your own and otherwise.