Saturday, December 13, 2014

The Orpheus choir, and the "End of Innocence"


I am usually reluctant to attend Remembrance Day proceedings. I am not merely jaded, but also skeptical of the commemorative impetus behind many official ceremonies that, in my opinion, celebrates war, rather condemning it. However, while visiting Toronto last month, I had the opportunity to attend the Orpheus Choir’s Remembrance Day concert, “The End of Innocence.” The choir’s slogan is “expect something different” and my sister, a choir member, had told me how the concert would involve a multimedia presentation and dramatic readings in addition to the music. So many Remembrance Day observances feel faded out after years of repetition, but this, as promised, was different – a poignant recognition of the day, and also among the most memorable and evocative concerts of my adult life.
The performance was impeccable. It was less a commemoration than a story of the First World War through image, drama, and music, mourning the end of the “age of innocence” by using music to create a wrinkle in time between the audience and the dramatized primary sources. Sandwiched between a prelude and postlude were images, music, and texts that juxtaposed consonance and dissonance, moving through the emotions of the period. The musical, visual, and textual selections of Robert Cooper, Joan Nicks, and Mary Barr braided together perfectly. For example, Edward Moroney’s “King and Country,” a medley of popular music from the period, reflected the upbeat mood following the armistice – and that is when the visuals moved from black and white images of the war to brightly coloured movie posters. Stratford Festival actors Bethany Jillard and Mike Shara executed a narration comprised of a series of letters and diary entries from the war – clearly selected after extensive research.
At times, the concert felt like it was a single piece, perhaps an oratorio with several composers, rather than a more traditional choral concert. Most of the characters lived in the narration; however, at one point, a young man rose from the chorus for a solo in Howard Goodall’s “Do Not Stand At My Grave.” Scarcely older than the soldiers who died in the war, the lyrics took on the air of his letter home to a family for whom he could never have truly died; most families could never have afforded to visit a grave overseas. Instead, their loved ones disappeared into the mud of an unknown place. How real could death be, without a tangible body? The chorus was a canvas for these sorts of characters; at times, the choir sat or knelt, with the book lights they used to see their music only slightly illuminating their faces. From my pew at the back of the church, they looked like they were praying.
After this praise, it may seem peculiar that my main criticism of the concert is actually its very premise: was World War One really the end of the “age of innocence”? This is, certainly, the assumption of the Canadian public – what we have been taught in high school history classes for generations, and what people during the war (to my knowledge) declared. Notably, however, we repeatedly make such assumptions that our era is exceptional. The program noted the Ottawa attack, just a few weeks previously, and I immediately thought about how the CBC portrayed that shooting as an unprecedented change. Given the colonial violence through which Canada was founded, the idea that Canada ever had its innocence is a tremendous erasure of history. Perhaps each successive war has been chipping away at “innocence” – in which case, since it did not exist in the first place, we are left with an ever-expanding vacuum.
Last year, I was a teaching assistant for History 102, Canada since Confederation. For the lecture on the First World War, the professor set up a slide show of photographs of some of the most gruesome parts of trench warfare: men with parts of their faces missing, severed limbs in the mud, that sort of thing. For the second half of the two-hour lecture period, he read a memoir (I have unfortunately forgotten the name or author) about life in the trenches. It was emotionally overwhelming, seeing those photographs while hearing about the experiences of a man, younger than our students, who faced a reality where he would be killed if he did not kill other men, often at close range. Neither the memoir nor the photographs spared any details – appropriately, since the goal of the lesson was to instill the horror of war in the minds of a group of young adults who, almost invariably, had only seen such images in video game animations. This was the most effective lecture about a war that I'd ever seen. However, in the tutorial following that lecture, some of my students reported having had nightmares. At least two had exited the lecture hall in tears. I wondered afterwards how to create a balance, showing students the horrors of war, but without so horrifying them that they might be reluctant to study history further.
My students comprise a very different demographic from the Orpheus choir members or audience. The audience for this concert was overwhelmingly white middle-aged people or seniors, seated in an Anglican church in an exclusive neighbourhood – this is standard for the Toronto choral scene. This group was very clearly moved, and I wish I could see how the young, multicultural students whom I have taught might react to such a concert. Most of my students are unversed in classical music, which might be the ticket to bringing the power of both war and peace into their understandings of history.
Just over a month later, the notes and images of this concert have not faded from my mind. Usually, I attend a choral concert expecting just that – a concert. In this case, I indeed experienced something different: a service, a haunting, a lesson, a reverie, and a collective fear of death and celebration of life.

Friday, April 25, 2014

Post-secondary class privilege: an open letter to Margaret Wente

Dear Margaret Wente,
In a recent column in the Globe and Mail, you argued that the affordability crisis in post-secondary education, in which Canadian students pay high tuition fees and thus take on significant debt, is a "myth." In a nutshell, your argument is that, because half of all students graduate without any debt whatsoever, the debt crisis is not real. You make this argument by citing the misleading perspective of Alex Usher, president of Higher Education Strategy Associates:
“In net terms, Canadians pay zero tuition,” Mr. Usher says. “We’ve got free university and we don’t even know it.” So much for the affordability crisis.
 In net terms. The trouble is that for many Canadian students, the net is irrelevant. Even Usher himself acknowledges that there are tremendous inequalities in this "net zero" tuition, and that it does not mean that Canadians are going to school for free. For the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives, the affordability crisis is not a "net" matter so much as an equity issue. "Eduflation," their portmanteau to describe the disproportionate increase of tuition in relation to income, disproportionately affects middle- and low-income families. Ms. Wente, your analytical oversight is in misinterpreting the net to be representative of a general experience, and mentioning inequalities but dismissing them as a paltry matter because they average out.
Nearly half of students approaching university age in Canada, you claim, have RESPs. By extension, however, over half of that demographic does not have this. If you throw a party and give cake to just under half the guests, regardless of the average amount of cake distributed being satisfactory, your guests will be disappointed. Or, for a more visual representation, consider this image, which has been making rounds for some time on social media. While the net height of the boxes in relation to the height of the children enables the net child to see over the fence, it is plainly apparent that there is a significant practical difference in their experiences: 

Three children stand on boxes in front of a fence, trying to watch a baseball game. In the "equality" frame, the three each stands on a box, and the tallest has a clear view while the shortest cannot see at all. In the "equity" frame, the tallest stands on the ground, while the shortest stands on two boxes, and all three can watch the game."
Equity vs. Equality


RESPs help students whose parents have money to invest in their education. For those students, it's a great resource. The trouble is that it is not a universal - not even close. The same issue goes for scholarship money, which you note has increased significantly since the 1990s. "Merit" is not exclusively a facet of innate academic ability, but also a reflection of a lifetime of the advantages students gain from privilege. My work as a teaching assistant during my PhD has introduced me to a number of undergraduate students from various backgrounds, hammering home the ongoing impact of my own privilege.  

As an undergraduate student, I was comfortably within the upper middle class. My sister and I benefited from significant privileges due to our economic background, and our mother's position as a university faculty member, and these outgrowths of our privilege continue to help me through my graduate career. Many of my students clearly lack these advantages. My intention here is not to boast about my current position or achievements; indeed, while I worked hard to get what I did, from an equity perspective I certainly would not say that I deserve it. In essence, I climbed an academic ladder that less privileged peers were holding up. The merit-based awards I used to support my education are the product of my class privilege.

From early childhood, we had access to whatever resources we needed to do well in school. When the school didn't have enough textbooks for every student (not uncommon in Ontario schools during and since the Mike Harris years), my family could afford to purchase our own copies.  Rather than working part-time and during the summers through high school, my sister and I could volunteer, or participate in leadership programs at overnight camp – the sort of experiences that impress scholarship judges.

With a parent already enmeshed in the world of post-secondary education, I knew the importance of applying for scholarships. In grade twelve, I spent several hours each week crafting applications and personal statements, which my mother proofread for me, encouraging me not to undersell myself. This writing skill was instrumental for my later graduate school and funding applications. Being part of a university family had another advantage in familiarizing me with academic norms: visiting office hours was natural to me as an undergraduate, after a childhood of trotting around a university department on school PD days, and I was intimidated only by the gruffest of professors. Many of my students will only come to office hours when they are already desperate, and lose the advantage of having cultivated an academic relationship throughout the semester.

My mother could afford to let me live at home, rent-free, which meant that while I worked full-time during each summer as an undergraduate, I worked only limited hours part-time during the school year, and could scale back my hours when my academic work necessitated it. I earned very good grades as an undergraduate, helping me win ongoing scholarships and funding my graduate education. I was obsessive about my academic work not just because of my personality, but also because I could afford to be. I've had students fail to hand in a paper on time because their work schedule interfered, or doze off in class after working a night shift. Some of my students work full-time to support their families, alongside a full course load. Merit-based awards can snowball - winning one means having less financial need and therefore less need to work to offset educational costs, and being able to get the grades needed for more awards. These awards meant that my student debt was relatively low, so I could pay it off while living under my mother’s roof during a gap year.


Ms. Wente, I, like you, benefit from significant privilege. The economic and social advantages of being upper middle class through childhood and adolescence meant that student debt was a navigable obstacle rather than a crisis for me. That does not mean that it is not a crisis for those who are struggling to pay it off, or who fear the costs of higher education so much that they do not pursue it in the first place. In essence, try telling the child who cannot see over the fence that the sight-lines are just fine.

In your autobiography, you say that "a stint of manual labour gives children of the middle class a first-hand taste of how the other half lives."  I would like to respectfully suggest that you take a taste of how so many of today's undergraduates live. At my university, Student Services estimates costs of tuition and living expenses at $7675 for the average domestic undergraduate. Try covering those costs for four years, working at or barely above minimum wage, and still getting good enough grades to win the scholarships you mention. Try doing all of this without drawing on any savings or family resources. Try this without taking on a penny of debt, and then get back to me.

Sincerely,

Privileged and Angry in Vancouver

Reading Lists

Canada

Political History

Jeffrey McNairn, The Capacity to Judge. Tina Merrill Loo, Making Law, Order, and Authority in British Columbia, 1821-1871 
Sean Mills, The Empire Within.
Alan Taylor, The Civil War of 1812.
Donald Fyson, Magistrates, Police, and People.
Allan Greer, The Patriots and the People.
Bruce Curtis, Building the Educational State.
Jack Little, State and Society.
Gordon Stewart, The Origins of Canadian Politics.
H.V. Nelles, The Politics of Development.
Matthew Evenden, Fish versus Power.
Sean Cadigan, Newfoundland and Labrador.
 

Social History

Joy Parr, Sensing Changes.
Adele Perry, On the Edge of Empire.
Naomi Griffiths, From Migrant to Acadian.
Cecilia Morgan, Public Men and Virtuous Women.
Mary-Ellen Kelm, A Wilder West.
Timothy John Stanley, Contesting White Supremacy.
Sharon Wall, The Nurture of Nature.
Denyse Baillargeon, Making Do.
Willeen G. Keough. The Slender Thread.
Steve Penfold, The Donut.
Allan Greer, Peasant, Lord, and Merchant
Joy Parr, The Gender of Breadwinners.
Lynne Marks, Revivals and Roller Rinks.
Jack Little, Borderland Religion.
Sherry Olson and Patricia A. Thornton, Peopling the North American City.
Roydon Loewen, Hidden Worlds.
Béatrice Craig. Backwoods Consumers and Homespun Capitalists.
Cole Harris, Resettlement of British Columbia.
Tina Loo, States of Nature.
John Sandlos, Hunters At The Margin.
 

Cultural History

Allan Greer, Mohawk Saint.
Keith Walden, Becoming Modern in Toronto.
Christopher Dummitt, The Manly Modern.
H. V. Nelles, The Art of Nation-Building.
Ian McKay, The Quest of the Folk.
Greg Gillespie, Hunting for Empire.
Stuart Henderson, Making the Scene.
Gillian Poulter, Becoming Native in a Foreign Land.
Karen Dubinsky, The Second Greatest Disappointment.
Patricia Jasen, Wild Things.
Carl Berger, Science, God, and Nature in Victorian Canada.
Jonathan Vance, Death So Noble
 
 

Sex and Gender 

Gender, Sexuality, and the Law 

Backhouse, Constance. Carnal Crimes. 
Sangster, Joan. Regulating Girls and Women.
Erickson, Lesley. Westward Bound.
Mayeri, Serena. Reasoning from Race.
Chenier, Elise Rose. Strangers in Our Midst.
Myers, Tamara. Caught: Montreal’s Modern Girls and the Law, 1869-1945.
Laite, Julia. Common Prostitutes and Ordinary Citizens.
Bettina Bradbury, Wife to Widow.
 

Gender, Sexuality, and Violence  

Dubinsky, Karen. Improper Advances.
Wiener, Martin. Men of Blood.
Steven Stowe, “The Touchiness of the Gentleman Planter”
Elliot Gorn, “Gouge and Bite, Pull Hair and Scratch”
Willeen Keough, “Now You Vagabond Whore”
Wamsley and Kossuth, “Fighting it out in Nineteenth-Century Upper Canada/Canada West”
Humphries, Mark. “War’s Long Shadow”
Amnesty International. No More Stolen Sisters
Burtch & Haskell. Get That Freak.
Jasmin Jawani. Discourses of Denial.
 

Constructing Heteronormativity and the Normal Family 

 Jackson, Paul. One of the Boys.
Lewis, Carolyn Herbst. Prescription for Heterosexuality.
Kinsman and Gentile. The Canadian War on Queers.
Sarah Carter, The Importance of Being Monogamous.
Nancy Cott, Public Vows.
Gary Kinsman. “‘Character weaknesses’ and ‘fruit machines’”
Margaret Little “The pecker detectors are back”
Jane Nicholas “Celebration of the Jubilee”
 

Creating Knowledge about Gender and Sexuality

Jensen, Robin E. Dirty Words.
Freeman, Susan Kathleen. Sex Goes to School.
Meyerowitz, Joanne J. How Sex Changed.
Hayden, Wendy. Evolutionary Rhetoric.
Katz, Jonathan. The Invention of Heterosexuality.
Warsh, Cheryl Lynn Krasnick. Gender, Health, and Popular Culture.
Laura Mulvey. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Change”
Paoletti, Jo Barraclough. Pink and Blue.
Gleason, Mona. “Psychology and the Construction of the “Normal” Family”
Marshall, Barbara. “Climacteric Redux?”
Belisle, Donica. “Crazy for Bargains”
Findlay, Deborah. “Discovering Sex”
 

Theory 

Stoler, Ann Laura. Race and the Education of Desire.
Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality. 1, The Will to Knowledge.
Maynard, Steven. “Queer musings on masculinity and history.”
Tosh, John. “What Should Historians do with Masculinity?”
Judith Butler, Gender Trouble.
Jagger, Gill. Judith Butler
Hood-Williams, J. and Cealey Harrison, W. “Trouble with Gender”
Marcel Stoetzler, “Subject Trouble: Judith Butler and Dialectics”
Callis, April S. “Playing with Butler and Foucault: Bisexuality and Queer Theory.”
Denise Riley, ‘Am I That Name?’
Joan W. Scott, “Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis”
Gisela Bock, “Challenging Dichotomies: Perspectives on Women’s History”
Joan Sangster, “Beyond Dichotomies”
Dubinsky and Marks, “Beyond Purity: A Response to Sangster”
Joy Parr, “Gender History and Historical Practice”
Davidoff and Hall, Family Fortunes
Michael Kimmel. Manhood in America
Downs, Laura Lee. Writing Gender History.
 

 

Gender, Sexuality, and Colonialism


Pickles and Rutherdale. Contact Zones. (edited collection)
Pratt, “Arts of the Contact Zone”
Van Kirk, Sylvia. Many Tender Ties
Brownlie and Korinek. Finding a Way to the Heart (edited collection)
Stoler, A. L. (Ed.). Haunted by Empire (edited collection)
McClintock, Imperial Leather
Anderson, Kay J. Vancouver's Chinatown
Jones, Jacqueline. Labor of Love, Labor of Sorrow.
 
 

Indigenous Peoples

Residential Schools

John S. Milloy, A National Crime.
Jacobs, Margaret D. Jacobs, White Mother to a Dark Race.
Tsianina K. Lomawaima, They Called It Prairie Light.
 

Native-Newcomer Relations

Lutz, John S. Lutz, Makúk.
Richard S. Hill, State Authority, Indigenous Autonomy.
Thomas King, The Inconvenient Indian.
Daniel Richter, The Ordeal of the Longhouse.
Susan Neylan, The Heavens Are Changing.
Pekka Hamalainen, The Comanche Empire.
Richard White, The Middle Ground.
William & Mary Quarterly special issue “Revisiting the Middle Ground,” 63: 1 (Jan. 2006):
Susan Sleeper Smith, “Introduction,” 3-8.
Richard White, “Creative Misunderstandings and New Understandings,” 9-14.
Philip Deloria, “What Is the Middle Ground, Anyway?” 15-22.
Catherine Desbarats, “Following ‘The Middle Ground’,” 81-96.
Alexandra Harmon, Rich Indians.
 

Health/Healing/Welfare

Mary-Ellen Kelm, Colonizing Bodies.
Gordon Briscoe, Counting, Health, and Identity.
Suzanne Alchon, A Pest in the Land.
Judith Raftery, Not Part of the Public.
Hugh Shewell, “Enough to Keep Them Alive.”
James B. Waldram, D. Ann Herring, and T. Kue Young. Aboriginal Health in Canada.
Raeburn Lange, May the People Live.
T. Kue Young, Health Care and Cultural Change
David H. DeJong, "If You Knew the Conditions" and Plagues, Politics, and Policy
Maureen K. Lux, Medicine That Walks.
Warwick Anderson, The Collectors of Lost Souls.
Kristen Burnett, Taking Medicine.
Laurie Meijer Drees. Healing Histories.
 

Legislation/Policy

Frank Tough, “As Their Natural Resources Fail.”
Robin Brownlie, A Fatherly Eye.
Keith D. Smith, Liberalism, Surveillance, and Resistance.
 

Treaties/Land

Douglas Harris, Landing Native Fisheries.
Peter Keith Kulchyski and Frank J. Tester, Kiumajut (Talking Back).
Coll Thrush, Native Seattle.
Keith H Basso, Wisdom Sits in Places.
Hans M. Carlson, Home is the Hunter.
Paige Raibmon, Authentic Indians
 

Resistance/methodologies/Indigenous Knowledge

Lina Sunseri, Being Again of One Mind.
Keith Carlson, The Power of Place, the Problem of Time.
Linda Tuhiwai Smith, Decolonizing Methodologies.
Janet Elizabeth Chute, The Legacy of Shingwaukonse.
Cole Harris, Making Native Space.
Gail D MacLeitch, Imperial Entanglements.
Margaret Kovach, Indigenous Methodologies.
Julie Cruikshank, Do Glaciers Listen? 
Philip Joseph Deloria, Indians in Unexpected Places.
 

Gender

Gunlög Maria Fur, A Nation of Women.
Robertson Standing up with Ga’axst’las
Bonita Lawrence, “Real” Indians and Others.

 
 

Performing and Working Gender: An Analysis of Frameworks, Roles and Identity


“Taking into account ethno-cultural differences, trace the evolution of Canadian gender roles and identity, as well as the family, from the pre-industrial to the industrial/post-industrial era.”

Gender and family roles and identity are mammoth in scope, yet not monolithic. This paper will therefore consider a series of examples that illustrate the multiple complex constructions of gender in overlapping categories of cultural production and work. As “identity” is a fluid and individual, internal and invisible category, it presents significant analytical challenges. Gillian Poulter suggests that identity is embodied through cultural practices, so that cultural artifacts and performances can serve as a window into gender identity.[1] Historians cannot always determine the intent behind cultural practices, but can see what sorts of practices and performances are normalized. Gender differences in many contexts in Canadian history have been a site for articulating other differences, and asserting ideas about settlement, class, and modernity. These categories did not evolve, but were constructed, performed, and reconstructed through highlighting and policing differences of race, culture, and class.
The complexities of gender and family relations in Canada, and their interweaving with constructions of race, is perhaps most apparent in Adele Perry’s work. Perry’s monograph is replete with analyses of songs and poetry describing the experiences and perceptions of a variety of settlers. These verses show evolving and often contradictory images of Aboriginal peoples and settlers, predicated upon gendered representations, furthering Perry’s argument that colonialism was about contact between two peoples specifically as men and women, rather than in the absence of gender relations. For example, by portraying Aboriginal women as opposite to white women, colonists could define womanhood to be the exclusive purview of white women; on this basis, Perry claims that “woman” as a category had clear “racial contours.” [2] Through her post-structuralist approach, Perry makes a compelling case for considering gender and race as mutually constitutive constructed categories, and for analyzing men’s experiences and masculinity alongside women’s experiences and femininity.
Perry’s analysis of homosocial culture among white men in colonial British Columbia shows how gender and race dovetail with class, as homosocial culture formed alongside British Columbia’s gold rushes and as a component of resource extraction industries.[3] For these men, physical labour served as a marker of class.[4] In homosocial environments where housework was by necessity a male task, men saw their ability to cook and maintain a home as a triumph of domestic competence.[5] This subversion of the tradition division of public and private spheres illustrates the importance of considering men’s work in private spaces. Homosocial culture in British Columbia was a disruption of a traditional organization, resulting in the construction of “a particular if fragmented vision of what it meant to be white and male.”[6]
Allan Greer’s Mohawk Saint illustrates how representations and symbolism can be conflated with identity, as Jesuits priests such as Claude Cauchetiere took a central role in portraying Catherine Tekakwitha’s life in hagiographic representations. [7] After Tekakwitha’s death, Jesuits constructed her as separate from other Mohawk people as a means of stressing her potential for sainthood.[8] This entailed selective portrayals of her life experiences, such as assuming that she lacked awareness of violence and flattening her suffering as individual rather than part of a collective Mohawk trauma.[9] While settlers have since highlighted her difference from her ancestral community and their own—a common phrase referring to her is “a lily among thorns”—and Mohawk ancestry in their own quest for spiritual healing, Cauchetiere portrayed Tekakwitha as Indian, as Greer puts it, “only superficially and accidentally.”[10] Given the variable representations of Tekakwitha, it is hard to pinpoint any elements of her internal identity, although externally one can see layers in her Mohawk and Christian names as well as her clothing and accessories.[11] Greer’s work shows how historians must use a high degree of caution in ascribing identity, as racial and gender power imbalances have given men more voice and authority in historical sources.
Cecilia Morgan argues that in Upper Canada, masculinity and femininity were ascribed, respectively, to politics and the public and to religion and the private. These identities were not natural, but discursively created, as a social and political construction replete with symbolism. [12] One such symbol is that of Queen Victoria. To Upper Canadian reformers during the Rebellions, Queen Victoria signified an inadequate mother of the empire, as she was too emotional and powerful and insufficiently maternal or caring.[13] Reformers in Lower Canada took up similar imagery. Patriots cast Loyalists as being “governed by a little girl,” using their scorn for Queen Victoria to bolster their conception of “the people” as exclusively male, in line with Rousseau, who saw women as supposedly equal to men, yet inappropriate candidates for citizenship.[14] Involvement in the “public” had dramatically divergent connotations for men and women. In a society where men’s downfall was in political corruption and women’s in sexual corruption “public man” had a connotation of honourability and independence from patronage.[15] This is a stark contrast to the idea of a “public woman,” a phrase evoking promiscuity echoed in the Patriots’ cry of “The Queen is a Whore!”[16]
The imagery of women as unsuited for public activity had real political consequences. In 1834, the removal of women’s franchise reflected Papineau’s concerns that women’s franchise would challenge the “domestic sexual order,” entrenching separate spheres as part of a Patriot concept of liberation and making the Rebellion “a significant moment in the process of gender formation in French Canada.”[17] Rather than acting in more politically visible, “public” roles, women participated in the Rebellion by making cloth to provide an alternative source to textiles imported from Britain.[18] Overall, Greer argues, “the Patriot movement was a fundamentally masculine phenomenon.”[19]
Through a case study of the Allaire family in Peasant, Lord, and Merchant, Allan Greer has considered the division of labour in peasant households in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Habitant labour, he argues, was fairly traditionally gendered. [20] In this context, marriage had important economic underpinnings, with marriage contracts giving security to women in the case of a husband’s death, under an assumption that husbands and fathers held legal mastery.[21] Since the family was a central site of production and consumption, marriage was largely essential in this society.[22]  
Beatrice Craig has noted similar tendencies in her study of the Upper Saint John Valley, covering roughly the same era. She suggests that historians must consider women’s economic agency as both producers and consumers, and highlights a need to question the binaries that gender the economic sphere as public and, thus, as male.[23] Craig notes that within each farm, there existed two gendered economies through a division of labour.[24] Home manufacturing of textiles was an important component of this, persisting through the late nineteenth century in Madawaska and showing women’s responsiveness to markets and industrial developments.[25] Women could use this textile production as a source of independent income.[26] Women’s consumption, for themselves and on behalf of their families, was a meaningful way to assert both individuality and a collective identity, serving as “an economic activity with symbolic meaning.”[27]
Willeen Keough shows how women’s roles could be part of their self-image in her study of Irish women on the Southern Avalon Peninsula in Newfoundland. In these communities, families usually operated with a flexible division of labour and significant cooperation.[28] Family work was critical for maintaining the fishery, and women therefore undertook physically challenging, skilled labour in shore work.  This, Keough argues, was a means of maintaining a strong self-image, as the work was both essential and respectable.[29] Women’s labour in the fishery and in subsistence agriculture was key to the community’s survival, and in contrast to the ideologies of other regions, women were not seen as weaker or gentler than men.[30] Despite lacking official recognition, women’s status as community healers on the Southern Avalon was equivalent to that of male doctors, reflecting an overall image of women as competent community leaders.[31]
These examples from three separate areas illustrate how women participated in the economy in regionally specific ways as both producers and consumers in a pre-industrial society. Thus, while settlers in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries seem to have conceptualized men and women in binary terms, their economy cannot be framed as a neat binary of public and private.
Parr details the shaping of gender through work, and work through gender, in a dual interaction of patriarchy and capitalism. [32] In her examination of the “women’s town” of Paris, Ontario, in which women textile mill workers were central to the economy and social relations, Parr notes that definitions of men’s and women’s work were complex and evolving, linked to workers’ shifts and use of equipment.[33] Despite the relative power that women had in this community, mill-owner Penman took on a paternalist role in managing the labour force, protecting and providing for the women workers.[34] Women shaped their work by deploying ideas about gender; this can be seen in a case where women highlighted their domestic roles during a labour dispute, to highlight their respectability.[35]
Parr builds a parallel between Penman’s mill in Paris and the Knechtel plant in Hanover, Ontario, comprised of individual male furniture craftsmen for whom woodworking was a component of their German Anabaptist ethnicity.[36] By the 1920s, masculinity had become less rooted in the physicality of male work, necessitating new sites of difference for men to assert their roles.[37] Masculinity in Hanover came to be redefined based on the male authority of being a breadwinner or “family man.”[38] Men also framed their masculinity in terms of working with machines that demanded a significant amount of focus to avoid potential danger,[39] a trend that is also apparent in Dummitt’s consideration of masculinity later in the century. It is important to note that this association of risk and rationality with masculinity was not unique product of an industrializing era. Cecilia Morgan has also commented on how, in Upper Canada, masculinity was associated with self-restraint and control, as well as the protection of the social order.[40] Industrialization produced new iterations of a persisting ideology that constructed differences between men and women. In Parr’s study of industrializing towns, it is apparent that the division of labour took shape through a fluid interaction of gender and class.[41]
The interaction of gender and class is also apparent in Christopher Dummit’s work, which shows how ideas of masculinity and modernity have been interwoven. [42] Since a binary gender model was naturalized in the post-war era, gender was a site for articulating other differences.[43] This is evident in his example of the 1958 Second Narrows Bridge collapse, which illustrated gendered notions of progress and risk, highlighting rational self-discipline as an element of masculinity by positioning working-class men as skilled risk-takers.[44] This construction of working-class men’s role in bridge construction was an element in the ideological issues behind the absence of a working-class protest concerning work conditions on the construction site.[45]
As previously discussed, men’s work in the domestic sphere was an important element in constructions of masculinity. It is similarly important to consider women’s work in multiple contexts, including unpaid work both inside and outside of the home. Lynne Marks considers how, in Ontario, the feminization of church involvement reflected complex Christian notions of masculinity and domesticity, in which women’s voluntary work feminized sacred spaces, constituting a threat to male leadership.[46] Women could also gain a public voice through religious activities, which Marks illustrates in the example of women Salvation Army preachers. These women challenged Victorian ideas about femininity by acting in a public role, but this was legitimized by the religious underpinnings of their work.[47] This illustrates porosity of divisions of public and private spheres, reinforcing the need for a more conceptually sophisticated model.
Denyse Baillargeon’s oral history of working-class Quebec women’s lives in the Great Depression similarly illustrates the intersections of class and gender. Working-class women, she argues, were instrumental to overcoming their own poverty during Depression. [48] Baillargeon’s oral history participants drew from pre-existing strategies to manage their precarious economic conditions.[49] Their housework was significant not just for household maintenance, but as paid work, and these women therefore did not distinguish between public and private spheres.[50] Motherhood, as the core of domestic labour, presented both economic and physical challenges for these women, a challenge they rose to using skills from both paid and domestic work prior to marriage.[51] The majority of working-class Quebec women Baillargeon interviewed had engaged in paid work as adolescents to contribute to their parents’ families, and had significant domestic responsibilities from early childhood.[52] Similarly to pre-industrial communities where women’s production in the home was integral to family survival, the working-class family in Depression-era Quebec was primarily a site of production, not consumption, given their limited disposable incomes.[53]
Work and cultural production are knit together in complex, gendered ways. In The Quest of the Folk, Ian McKay argues that the “Folk” of Nova Scotia were a culturally constructed category. Helen Creighton, a self-appointed researcher and collector of ballads, undertook much of the work in this construction. Creighton’s social location, as an upper middle-class gentlewoman, had an impact on her work, which fit comfortably within the acceptable pursuits of a “gentlewoman.” [54] While Creighton was caught between models of nineteenth- and twentieth-century womanhood, McKay illustrates that she was unquestioning of her own class position and its implications for her research on folk songs, and used her paternalist outlook to shape an essentialist image of the Folk.[55] Creighton’s work, ultimately, used an essentialist vocabulary of identity and thus “naturalized conservative assumptions about class, gender, and sexuality, race and ethnicity.”[56]
McKay highlights the connections between Innocence as an essentialist framework and the traditional family values and gender roles that proponents of the Folk assumed to be inherent in Nova Scotia as a “therapeutic space” away from the challenges of modernity.[57] In doing so, he positions the Folk as a gendered category—though not as individual men and women. This illustrates the complex role of gender in anti-modernism, which celebrated pre-modern gender roles of domestic femininity and thriving masculinity. These traditional roles stood in stark contrast to the realities of gender relations in Nova Scotia, which experienced changing reproductive patterns consistent with those of other parts of North America. Thus, McKay highlights the gendered nature of Innocence as an ideological formation through which “a politics of cultural selection” cherry-picked, from an otherwise modernizing society, those aspects of gender and sexuality that were anti-modern.[58]
As Greer and Morgan made evident, women held important political symbolism. This spilled over into large events, which combined political motivations with cultural performances. In celebrations for Quebec’s tercentenary, a woman served as an important symbol in Earl Grey’s monument to memorialize Quebec’s battlefields, in the form of the “Angel of Welcome and Peace.” This symbolism of femininity as a central welcoming figure was, Nelles argues, an attempt to encourage elite women to become involved in fundraising for the tercentenary. [59] Nelles describes pageantry as a public ritual of group therapy and societal transformation.[60] It was also a site for publicly engaging women in an acceptable social and cultural context.[61] Women were thus visible in both the organization of the pageant and in its performances.[62]
Keith Walden argues that cultural events were gendered affairs. Fairs such as the Toronto Industrial Exhibition were “instruments of hegemony,” shaping support for a white, male, middle-class, capitalist culture.[63] As with the Quebec tercentenary, organizers of the Toronto Industrial Exhibition used symbolism of women linked to fertility, peace, nature, and creativity to cast the fair as a celebration of humanity rather than merely commercialism, and to portray it as an acceptable public space for women.[64] This was not a simple shift of ideologies, but a collision; women’s participation in the exhibition was subversive, as it fell outside the usual containments of the Victorian cult of domesticity.[65] Women’s movement through the fairground thus both subverted and affirmed gender norms as they participated in buying and selling goods and as participants and audiences of performances.[66] While events such as the sideshow catered to white male viewers, it had the potential to seduce a wider audience; Walden emphasizes that gazing, and being gazed upon, was a general experience of the fair.[67] Exhibition performances were also an opportunity for the transgression of social categories and norms, showing alternatives to a dominant social order. Performances could be implicit or explicit, intentional or more subconscious; while schoolgirls intentionally crossed boundaries of femininity by mimicking grown men in drill routines, selling and consuming goods was also a type of performance, with women’s bodies linked to the goods they were selling in displays.[68]
Sexuality and family roles could also be performed in scripted ways. Karen Dubinsky’s study of Niagara Falls tourism emphasizes the role of the honeymoon as a “public declaration of heterosexual citizenship” that displayed both gender roles and their sexual manifestations.[69] Entrepreneurs recognized the honeymoon as an element of performative sexuality, and reflected this in their marketing.[70] In this “theme park of heterosexuality,” gendered and sexual imagery was central to Niagara’s “imaginary geography.”[71] Marketing for the area gendered the Falls themselves as a female “icon of femininity,” which was often sexualized.[72] This imagery was also racialized, as can be seen in the fake “Indian legend” of the “maid of the mist,” which claimed that an Iroquois woman, disgraced by her sexual liaisons with a white man, had descended the falls in a canoe to appease her father and angry gods. The thundering sound of the falls was promoted to tourists as the lingering spirit of this fallen woman.[73]
Gendered and racialized performances and cultural representations could be a site of agency rather than merely an opportunity for cultural appropriation and misinterpretation. This can be seen in Mary-Ellen Kelm’s analysis of rodeos. Rodeo, she argues, is storytelling and ritual “in which the values and the social structures of the North American West were displayed and where settler hegemony was legitimized.” [74] In this context, however, she notes that hybridity was as important as hegemony. In Kelm’s work, one can see the destabilization of categories on which identity could be premised. On rodeo circuits, she argues, gender differences eclipsed racial ones.[75] Cowgirls redefined femininity through emphasizing their toughness in an otherwise male world that variably emphasized the need to manage risk as a component of masculinity, and presented femininity as a risk.[76] Women participating in rodeo did so in political ways, troubling binaries by highlighting their toughness and ability (92) and, for Aboriginal women, discussing First Nations struggles in their role as “rodeo queen” contestants.[77] Thus, political activism underpinned this cultural production.[78]
Kelm notes that women’s rodeo participation was often defined as performance, when men’s was defined as sport, as sport entailed rationalization that performance did not. [79] Similar issues arise in conceptualizing the overlap between performance and work, as rodeo entailed the convergence of the two. Definitions of performance, sport, and work rest upon conceptualizations of gender, class, and race, as the performances of marginalized identities are emphasized over those of dominant ones. The hegemony of whiteness, heterosexuality, and masculinity risks rendering the performances of these identities invisible, but several historians have risen to the challenge of destabilizing these categories by showing their performative elements.
Across eras of unevenly increasing industrialization, gender and family roles and identities did not evolve, per se. Instead, they were constructed through lenses of culture, ethnicity, and class, in a fragmented and often contradictory fashion. Ideals and performances of gender and the family can be framed as a reaction to “crises” of modernity coinciding with moments and trends in Canadian history such as urbanization, industrialization, and the Cold War. Such an approach, seeing gendered performances as manifestations of modernism and anti-modernism, is indeed tempting. This is, however, a somewhat simplistic approach, because, as McKay illustrates in his examination of Helen Creighton, it gives agency to individuals with the privilege to define such a “crisis.”
Historians evaluating gender have gradually moved away from a reliance on the binary conceptual framework of public and private, seeing this as a problematic simplification of men’s and women’s identities, roles, and experiences. Destabilizing the binary of modern and anti-modern is a similarly worthwhile project. Christopher Dummit sees modernity as a complex confluence of forces including control, planning, rationality, efficiency, and science, situated within an ideology of laissez-faire liberalism.[80] I have previously argued that the complexities of liberalism and its limited treatment of colonialism as a central force make it an important yet insufficient framework for analyzing state formation. With gender and family constructed and reconstructed at the nexus of colonialism and liberalism, I would suggest that, in addition to modernism and anti-modernism or public and private, historians increasingly consider gender in terms of intersecting spheres of oppression and privilege. This would foreground power and performance, rather than implying that gender and family roles and identity changed on a trajectory or was natural.




Works Cited
Baillargeon, Denyse. Making Do: Women, Family, and Home in Montreal during the Great Depression. Translated by Yvonne M Klein. Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1999.

Craig, Béatrice. Backwoods Consumers and Homespun Capitalists: The Rise of a Market Culture in Eastern Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009.

Dubinsky, Karen. The Second Greatest Disappointment: Honeymooning and Tourism at Niagara Falls. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1999.

Dummitt, Christopher. The Manly Modern: Masculinity in Postwar Canada. Vancouver, BC: UBC Press, 2007.

Greer, Allan. Mohawk Saint: Catherine Tekakwitha and the Jesuits. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006.

Greer, Allan. The Patriots and the People: The Rebellion of 1837 in Rural Lower Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1993.

Greer, Allan. Peasant, Lord, and Merchant: Rural Society in Three Quebec Parishes, 1740-1840. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985.

Kelm, Mary-Ellen. A Wilder West: Rodeo in Western Canada. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2011.

Keough, Willeen G. The Slender Thread: Irish Women on the Southern Avalon, 1750-1860. Gutenberg-E Series. New York: Columbia University Press, 2009.

Marks, Lynne. Revivals and Roller Rinks: Religion, Leisure, and Identity in Late-Nineteenth-Century Small-Town Ontario. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996.

McKay, Ian. The Quest of the Folk: Antimodernism and Cultural Selection in Twentieth-Century Nova Scotia. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1994.

Morgan, Cecilia Louise. Public Men and Virtuous Women: The Gendered Languages of Religion and Politics in Upper Canada, 1791-1850. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996.

Nelles, H. V. The Art of Nation-Building: Pageantry and Spectacle at Quebec’s Tercentenary. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000.

Parr, Joy. The Gender of Breadwinners: Women, Men, and Change in Two Industrial Towns, 1880-1950. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990.

Perry, Adele. On the Edge of Empire: Gender, Race, and the Making of British Columbia, 1849-1871. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001.

Poulter, Gillian. Becoming Native in a Foreign Land: Sport, Visual Culture, and Identity in Montreal, 1840-85. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2009.

Walden, Keith. Becoming Modern in Toronto: The Industrial Exhibition and the Shaping of a Late Victorian Culture. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997.




[1] Gillian Poulter, Becoming Native in a Foreign Land: Sport, Visual Culture, and Identity in Montreal, 1840-85 (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2009), 5.
[2] Adele Perry, On the Edge of Empire: Gender, Race, and the Making of British Columbia, 1849-1871 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001), 56.
[3] Perry, 21.
[4] Perry, 38.
[5] Perry, 25.
[6] Perry, 47.
[7] Allan Greer, Mohawk Saint: Catherine Tekakwitha and the Jesuits (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 22.
[8] Greer, Mohawk Saint, 32.
[9] Greer, Mohawk Saint, 46-47, 57.
[10] Greer, Mohawk Saint, 166.
[11] Greer, Mohawk Saint, 104.
[12] Cecilia Louise Morgan, Public Men and Virtuous Women: The Gendered Languages of Religion and Politics in Upper Canada, 1791-1850 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996), 12, 39.
[13] Morgan, 89.
[14] Allan Greer, The Patriots and the People: The Rebellion of 1837 in Rural Lower Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1993), 191, 198.
[15] Greer, Patriots and the People, 202, Morgan 188.
[16] Morgan, 196, Greer, Patriots and the People, 189-218.
[17] Greer, Patriots and the People, 206, 210.
[18] Greer, Patriots and the People, 210.
[19] Greer, Patriots and the People, 213.
[20] Allan Greer, Peasant, Lord, and Merchant: Rural Society in Three Quebec Parishes, 1740-1840 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985), 32.
[21] Greer, Peasant, Lord, and Merchant, 56.
[22] Greer, Peasant, Lord, and Merchant, 56-57.
[23] Béatrice Craig, Backwoods Consumers and Homespun Capitalists: The Rise of a Market Culture in Eastern Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009), 8, 10.
[24] Craig, 179.
[25] Craig 182-183.
[26] Craig 196-197.
[27] Craig 201.
[28] Willeen G. Keough, The Slender Thread: Irish Women on the Southern Avalon, 1750-1860, Gutenberg-E Series (New York: Columbia University Press, 2009),17-18. Due to the formatting of the electronic version of this book, I have noted page numbers for the chapter, rather than the text as a whole. My analysis for this paper draws from Keough’s fourth chapter, ““A good, hard-working stump of a girl”: Irish Women’s Work and the Construction of Identity on the Southern Avalon.”
[29] Keough, 1-2, 4-5.
[30] Keough, 7.
[31] Keough, 40.
[32] Joy Parr, The Gender of Breadwinners: Women, Men, and Change in Two Industrial Towns, 1880-1950 (Toronto; Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 1990), 7.
[33] Parr, 23, 70, 73.
[34] Parr, 42, 48.
[35] Parr, 105.
[36] Parr, 131, 134.
[37] Parr, 164.
[38] Parr, 164, 188.
[39] Parr, 173.
[40] Morgan, 69.
[41] Parr, 234.
[42] Christopher Dummitt, The Manly Modern: Masculinity in Postwar Canada (Vancouver, BC: UBC Press, 2007), 10.
[43] Dummitt, 16.
[44] Dummitt, 60, 64, 154.
[45] Dummitt, 74-75.
[46] Lynne Marks, Revivals and Roller Rinks: Religion, Leisure, and Identity in Late-Nineteenth-Century Small-Town Ontario (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996), 29-33, 79.
[47] Marks, 173, 177.
[48] Denyse Baillargeon, Making Do: Women, Family, and Home in Montreal during the Great Depression, trans. Yvonne M Klein (Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1999), 4.
[49] Baillargeon, 8.
[50] Baillargeon, 13, 111.
[51] Baillargeon, 67, 78.
[52] Baillargeon, 40, 41.
[53] Baillargeon, 114.
[54] Ian McKay, The Quest of the Folk: Antimodernism and Cultural Selection in Twentieth-Century Nova Scotia (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1994), 61.
[55] McKay, 65, 92, 105.
[56] McKay, 100.
[57] McKay, 251.
[58] McKay, 251.
[59] H. V Nelles, The Art of Nation-Building: Pageantry and Spectacle at Quebec’s Tercentenary (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 88.
[60] Nelles, 141-143.
[61] Nelles, 150.
[62] Nelles, 156.
[63] Keith Walden, Becoming Modern in Toronto: The Industrial Exhibition and the Shaping of a Late Victorian Culture (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), xiv.
[64] Walden, 171, 173.
[65] Walden, 171.
[66] Walden, 189.
[67] Walden, 158.
[68] Walden, 43, 160.
[69] Karen Dubinsky, The Second Greatest Disappointment: Honeymooning and Tourism at Niagara Falls (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1999), 217.
[70] Dubinsky, 237.
[71] Dubinsky, 4.
[72] Dubinsky, 42-43.
[73] Dubinsky, 71.
[74] Mary-Ellen Kelm, A Wilder West: Rodeo in Western Canada (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2011), 6.
[75] Kelm, 164.
[76] Kelm, 14, 149-151.
[77] Kelm, 92, 198-199.
[78] Kelm, 12.
[79] Kelm, 109.
[80] Dummitt, 9.