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Anna O’Connell
Professor Ibironke
01:358:361:01
20 December 2022
Male Misogyny: How Female Creators Will Save Literature
Introduction:
20th-century classic literature differs from more modern pieces in many ways. The most
common stories focus on White characters, demonstrate an underlying tone of racism, and prefer
male-centered plots. These three elements converge to create varying levels of casual and
harmful misogyny within their stories, especially when those stories are written by men. 1984 by
George Orwell is a middle point of casual misogyny. Some women are marked by their sexuality
and others by their fertility; there is no outright vitriol in their descriptions, but none of the
women have any positive associations that go beyond features that link them to sex or motherly
appeal, either. Down and Out in Paris and London, also by Orwell, on the other hand, is the
pinnacle of debilitating misogyny in 20th-century literature. Many female characters go without
names and are used as the antithesis of strength and wisdom. Orwell’s pieces thrive on depicting
women as obstacles in the main male character’s path.
Unsurprisingly, female authors depict their sex in a more positive light. A Tree Grows in
Brooklyn, a 1974 film, goes in the opposite direction than Orwell could fathom, focusing on two
primary female characters, giving them differing facets of personality that give them a unique
sense of depth. Behold the Dreamers similarly delves into the complex pasts and presents of two
female characters leading very different lives but facing similar struggles. Behind the Beautiful
Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity primarily focuses on the international
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conflicts of American capitalism. In doing so, Katherine Boo introduces a varied range of female
characters; liars, dreamers, the ultra-poor, and the slightly better-off all live in strained harmony.
Female creators tend to give their characters, especially their female characters, more depth than
male authors, specifically Orwell.
This paper will dissect the descriptions of female characters in 20th-century literature. In
doing so, I will compare the negative portrayals of Orwell’s characters, primarily focusing on the
cook in the Auberge de Jehan Cottard in Down and Out, as well as the washing woman in 1984.
After thoroughly dissecting these portrayals, I will focus on more positive depictions of women,
including Katie Nolan in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Cindy Edwards from Behold the Dreamers,
and Sita, AKA Fatima or the “One Leg” from Behind the Beautiful Forevers. Casual misogyny
in male-written pieces labels women as the villainous or insipid obstacles in the main character’s
path, typically a male character. Female creators are more generous with their own sex, proving
that authors can frame a female character in a negative light without making her completely
one-dimensional.
Male-Centered Misogyny:
The narrator in Down and Out in Paris and London displays an astonishing oversight
when it comes to his own privilege, especially his privilege linked to his race and gender. He
makes many casual and implicitly biased comments about several races and spends some time in
almost every chapter making a cutting remark about some woman in his or his strange friends’
lives. In chapters 20 and 21, his negative comments are mainly focused on the female cook in the
new restaurant he works at, the Auberge de Jehan Cottard. The narrator first describes her as “a
Baltic Russian five feet tall and a yard across the hips,” who “had been a singer…” and “was
very artistic…” (Orwell 104). This is ultimately where her characterization ends, for everything
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else mentioned about her circles back to one of these points: she is foreign, fat, artistic, and a
woman with previous ambitions. The narrator does not deign to give his audience a peek into any
of the ways these features could be positive, for, in the end, she is nothing but a nuisance for him.
The cook in Down and Out is particularly interesting because of how she is framed when
compared to the male coworkers in the narrator’s life. The narrator spends almost no time talking
about any of the workers in the Auberge unless to complain. Jules is a lazy communist, the
Patron is cheap, and Boris is annoyingly optimistic about the restaurant's success. The cook is a
woman. The narrator’s male coworkers get attention to their personalities and how they differ,
but he spends no time going past the gender of the cook. He states that “A ceaseless, nagging
chorus of orders streamed from her” (Orwell 129). He also repeatedly makes pointed comments
about how she bangs into him with her large hips, collapses in tears at multiple points in the day,
and needlessly quarrels with him about the kitchen setup. Everything about her annoys him. He
never makes such comments about the male cooks he has worked with, though. In fact, where he
hates the female cook for ordering him around, he respects the male cooks. A male cook is “…an
insufferable bully, but he was also an artist” for being able to balance so much work, control the
flow of the restaurant, and keep everything and everyone in his kitchen in order (Orwell 89). The
female cook, an actual artist, gets no such respect. She works in a dirty and poor kitchen, so her
work is not art. She is also a woman ordering around a man, and even if their positions in the
restaurant call for these types of interactions, she is, in the narrator’s eyes, overstepping her role.
Even though she is a cook, she is, above all else, a woman and, therefore, should not feel
comfortable demanding anything from her male coworkers. Orwell is desperate to absolve his
male characters of blame because he, too, is a man. Female characters are undeserving of such
sympathy, and Orwell refuses to pretend otherwise.
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Orwell seemed to like focusing on the appearance or disposition of his female characters,
giving little else to their descriptions. The main character in 1984, Winston, observes the beauty
of an unnamed woman, hereafter referred to as the washing woman. The washing woman has a
“solid, contourless body, like a block of granite,” with “no mind…only strong arms, a warm
heart, and a fertile belly” (Orwell 276-277). It is for this reason that Winston finds her beautiful.
Though she may not be physically appealing, her sex means she can carry children, and that is
what makes her beautiful. Equating women to their uterus and their potential for bearing children
is a common practice for misogynists. This allows for women to be minimized to one idea and
never stray from it. The washing woman’s large hips are seen as a beautiful feature for Winston
because they can allude to childbirth, while the narrator in Down and Out hates the cook’s wide
hips, as they are nothing but an obstacle. Both women in these books are portrayed with little
intelligence. Again, this is not a detriment for Winston since a woman does not need to be wise
to be a mother. The narrator is more critical of the cook’s intelligence, and it is essential to note
that both portrayals of dumb women are equally misogynistic. The cook’s lack of grace and
intelligence allows the narrator to make pointed comments about her. 1984’s washing woman is a
more subtle misogynist portrayal of women as a whole because she is nothing more than a
child-bearer. Neither depiction give the women autonomy or characterization past their womanly
features; Orwell cannot see the value in expanding on female characters past what matters to
him, and little about women past their gender interests him.
Female Forces of Nature:
Female writers can approach the existence of female characters from a different
perspective. Rather than framing women as insipid obstacles or otherwise gross uterus-holders,
female creators can provide nuance within all their characters, especially their female characters.
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Behold the Beautiful Forevers introduces Fatima as having “fair skin, usually an asset, but the
runt leg had smacked down her bride price…‘...who else wanted her’” (Boo 13). Fatima is the
main antagonist of Abdul’s family and is thus framed as someone to despise. Her looks,
especially her disability, her capabilities as a mother, and her promiscuity are constantly jeered at
by the community. Many pieces come into play with Fatima; she is disabled, so she is looked
down upon. The fact that she is promiscuous and adulterous would have been gossipworthy no
matter what, but the fact that she is simultaneously crippled makes it all the more interesting. She
fails as a mother, which is why most of the community’s women look down on her. All of this
would proceed one to believe that Boo, like Orwell, fails to write women as real people rather
than obstacles in the main character’s path. However, Fatima is just one woman in a sea of
well-written characters with believable dreams: Asha is an aspiring slum lord; Manju, her
daughter, wants to be Annawadi’s first female college graduate; Zehrunisa is Abdul’s mother and
takes the reins of the business instead of her ailing husband. None of these women are criticized
by the author for having aspirations. When one looks at Fatima with the same critical lens, they
can find the same is true for the One Leg. Fatima is framed as a villain not because she is a
woman but because she is causing Abdul’s family suffering. She is not a bad person because she
is a bad mother, nor is she absolved of all crimes because of her uterus. Fatima is a complicated
character capable of nuance and prejudice but worthy of sympathy all the same. Her life is
neither perfect nor is she, but she has tried to prevail in a society built against her. Her failings as
a character are not framed as a consequence of her gender as they would be with Orwell, but of
her society, community, and economic status.
Cindy Edwards in Behold the Dreamers takes a similar antagonistic stance against the
main characters, though she, like Fatima, is also worthy of sympathy due to the nuance
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surrounding her character. Neni assumed Cindy was “...a woman with no desperate
needs…enveloped in an air of superiority, standing tall and keeping her shoulders back…”
(Mbue 108-109). Cindy Edwards is a woman who is constantly aware of how others see her, and
her reliance on her reputation as a shield becomes quickly evident to the reader. Cindy is not
actually a woman who has it all; she struggles with her role in her marriage, friendships, and
motherhood. She refuses to let that show to anyone around her, and it slowly drives her mad.
Having the only people she trusts with the information of her past slowly betray her, first with
Clark cheating, then Neni blackmailing her, is her breaking point. Cindy may have been
vindictive to Jende and his family, but she did it from an entirely understandable position. Cindy
had very little to live for, and Mbue gave an excellent depiction of a woman on the brink. A male
author would not have been able to encapsulate the same level of nuance surrounding Cindy or
the delicate balancing act all women, especially women in the public eye, face. Cindy has to be
aware of how she appears and how it will affect her family at every moment. She spends a lot of
time on her appearance, getting emotional over things that seemingly do not matter. A male
author would leave her character at that, writing her off as another confusing, insipid,
overbearing mother. Mbue goes deeper, exploring why Cindy does what she does; Cindy is not
an easy-to-blame villain in Jongas’s life because she was clearly struggling with her own
demons.
Not Everything is Perfect in a Female World:
Not everything can be solved by having a female creator pulling the strings. A Tree
Grows in Brooklyn had a female author that, most likely because of the time period, was still
subject to painting parts of her work in prejudice. Yes, surrounded by a sea of Orwell-like female
characters, Katie Nolan is a breath of fresh air when it comes to misogyny in the 20th century,
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but she is not without her faults. She is not portrayed nearly as stupid or bothersome as the cook
in Down and Out, but she does typically don the role of villain when it comes to Francie’s
dreams. Katie is the one who has to put her foot down, forced into being the strict and practical
parental figure. Her villainous portrayal comes from the fact that the story is mainly told from
Francie’s point of view, but it is also based on the fact that Katie is taking the man’s role in the
family. She is the primary breadwinner, and instead of spending more time on her children’s lives
and interests, her main focus is on keeping the family alive. None of this is seen as a liability
when a father does it, but when Katie cares about money or her family’s livelihood, she is
viewed as cold and uncaring. Zehrunisa, too, takes the place of the father figure in her household,
handling her family’s business since her husband cannot. She is not framed as cold or uncaring
for pushing her children to work or go to school, however. Most of this positivity comes from the
fact that “she was tender and playful with her children…” (Boo 11). Zehrunisa might be a little
ruthless when it comes to getting economic prosperity for her family, but because she is still
playful and motherly to them, she is not framed as a villain like Katie. Though these two female
authors approach matriarchal families differently, both veer towards the misogynistic. Smith
makes Katie the villain for being strict like a father, and Boo makes it seem like the only reason
it is okay for Zehrunisa to act the same is because she also acts properly motherly and playful.
Misogyny is not the only thing that plagues 20th-century literature, of course. While A
Tree Grows in Brooklyn’s story is painted with a misogynistic brush, more modern pieces by
female authors are influenced by and tackle different forms of prejudice. Inequality is prevalent
in many forms, including racism and colorism. Katherine Boo, a White woman talking about a
subset of Indian culture, certainly fell privy to her internal prejudices. In her Author’s Note at the
end of the novel, Boo went into her reasons and desires for writing Behind the Beautiful
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Forevers. Boo wanted to write a story that went deeper into Indian poverty and the reasons why.
Instead, she seemed to paint a picture of blame on the poor Indian citizens rather than
international capitalistic ideals. Capitalism may have driven the Annawadi citizens to desperate
means of survival, but Boo seems to frame them as being evil or animalistic for looking out for
themselves instead of supporting the whole poor community. It is clear that no matter Boo’s
intentions, she could not overcome her “...not being Indian, not knowing the languages, lacking a
lifetime of immersion in the context” (Boo 210). Boo was able to write perfectly complex
characters, but her prejudices against their skin made her descriptions of them veer towards the
primal rather than the humanistic. Such displays of racism would not be as evident from an
Indian author as a White one. It is clear that, while women are better at writing female
characters, there is also a necessary space for women and other people of color to enter the
literary scene. Doing so will allow for more perspectives to enter classic literature and prevent
misogynistic, racist, or otherwise bigoted views from plaguing the pages.
Conclusion:
Even though female authors suffer from displaying other prejudices in their works, it
cannot be argued that the world would benefit from more female creators, especially women of
color, in the space. The increase in differing perspectives and more complex priorities is
priceless; it helps keep misogyny in writing at bay. Mbue sprinkles bouts of misogyny
throughout the novel through her portrayal of Cindy Edwards’s vanity, but does so in a way that
demonstrates her depth as a character; she is more than the image she wants to present. Fatima,
too, is painted by a misogynist brush, with her antagonistic placement in the main family’s story
and her looks being so pivotal to her descriptions. However, both of these pieces give plenty of
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depth to their female characters, making sure to display them as more than present or potential
mothers.
It is important to note that the pieces with the strongest tinges of misogyny were written
before the 1950s; misogyny has been curtailed with time. All three older pieces are varying
degrees of subtly misogynistic, curtailing women into certain boxes that force them into being
the obstacles in the main character’s path. Katie acts as the villain because she is the only
practical parent and because her pregnancy is the catalyst for Johnny’s death. She and the
washing woman are both trapped in the motherly box; though Katie certainly gets more
characterization and depth than the washing woman, both can be minimized to their role as
future/current mothers. The cook is different because her depiction is overtly and intentionally
misogynistic. Not only is she never talked about in a positive light, but she and other female
characters are minimized to their gender and spoken about in a harsher tone compared to their
male equivalent. She is nothing more than one of several obstacles in the narrator’s path, and her
insipidness turns into a weapon against the narrator. She is one of the novel’s most prevalent
female characters, yet she gets no name, no follow-up like other important characters, and no
positive identifiers.
The world is moving towards a more progressive place. Certain barriers will take time
and effort to break, but the misogynistic lens that has been securely adhered to literature is
slowly breaking off. As female creators become more common, so too will more positive
portrayals of female characters. Hopefully, with examples of multi-dimensional female
characters, future male authors will learn from the positive portrayals of female characters, and
misogynistic, racist, and otherwise bigoted creators like Orwell will fall into obscurity. The road
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toward equality in literature is long and arduous, but, in the end, writers and audiences alike will
collectively expose themselves to a more progressive, equal, and accepting future.