Susan Hawthorne [1]
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Collected
Papers and Presentations. Proceedings of Women’s Studies Association Conference (NZ), Massey
University, Palmerston North: pp. 64-72. 2003.
… no training session
prepared me for this intense pain … my
pain … the one I did not choose … all this alienation, this empty vacuum …, my
body, my mind, my pain … this is not happening … I am a little speck in the
universe … which universe? … the world is not anymore … I am … disintegrating …
bit by bit … yell by yell … electrode by electrode … The pain … all this pain
here and there, down there in my vagina … the agony … where am I? Where is my
I? (Rivera-Fuentes and Birke 2001: 655; italics and ellipses in the
original[2])
Where is my I?
This question is central for any
researcher looking at the evidence and reasons for the torture of lesbians.
Where is my lesbian I? Where is the centrality of my lesbian being? Where is my
experience as a lesbian recorded and recognised? Over the past thirty years
feminist scholars have brought into the light many aspects of violence against
women. But when I began to follow up on the torture of lesbians I was
confronted by a severe lack of research.[3]
This paper looks at the research
that has been conducted into the torture of lesbians – past and present which
is extremely fragmentary and difficult to obtain. Even those organisations involved
in the research feel a need to “disguise” the identities of lesbians who are
tortured because of fears for their safety.
Research on the torture of lesbians
tends to focus on well-known historical examples, including the fate of
lesbians in Nazi Germany (and even here the research is scanty) rather than
examinations of the experiences of contemporary lesbians still suffering
torture under many regimes. Research on the torture of lesbians also tends to
be conflated with and subsumed by research on the torture of gay men.
Researchers ask whether as
activists we should be speaking out about the torture of lesbians, or whether
the consequences of such speaking out will have enormously negative impacts on
those who have been violated? On the other side of the coin is the
eroticisation of torture as simply another sexual thrill. Searching for
research on “lesbians and torture” on the internet brings up a massive amount
of pornographic material rather than material that deals with violence against
and torture of lesbians. So the serious researcher must ask, is sadomasochism
creating acceptance of political torture? This last question is the subject of
another paper.
And finally, how does one deal with
the problem that the researcher needs to read between the lines of accounts of
torture in order to find the raw data referring to the torture of lesbians? Who
can afford to report her own torture when hatred of lesbians persists even in
relatively open societies.
Sexuality, Secrecy and Silence
I started researching the subject
of the torture of lesbians twelve months ago. When I began, I knew that I would
have to sift through much research that doesn’t apply specifically to lesbians
because lesbian existence tends to be confounded with the lives of gay men, or
subsumed under the broad and unsatisfactory term of homosexuality, or of queer
or LGBTI. All these terms are used to simultaneously contain and exclude
lesbians. A more recent term – same-sex attracted – fails for the same reasons.
Lesbians who are tortured disappear.
In the historical literature there
are references to the torture of lesbians under the Inquisition. There are
possible allusions to the torture of lesbians as witches during the so-called
Renaissance – a very masculine affair. There is the case of Felipa de Souza living in the Portuguese colony of Brazil
in 1592. Sentenced by the Roman Catholic Inquisition for the ''nefarious and
abominable crime of sodomy'' after she had
admitted having sexual relations with other women, she was “condemned to
exile and was viciously whipped while walking the streets of Salvador to serve
as an example to others” (Crimes of Hate
2001: 10). There are also references to the killing of lesbians under
the Nazi regime as “asocials”, a very flexible label which included
prostitutes, criminals, the homeless, unemployed, Gypsies – including Roma and
Sinti – as well as lesbians (Schoppmann 1996: 21). One thing is certain,
however, lesbians were and are
tortured. They are tortured under repressive political regimes of many kinds:
in post-Communist Romania, in Chile after the 1973 coup, in Iran under the
fundamentalist regime of Ayatollah Khomeini, in the holiday islands of the
Caribbean, in Zimbabwe and Uganda. The countries in which the torture of
lesbians takes place adhere to very different political forms ranging from
socialist to fascist, from secular to fundamentalist.
Lesbians are tortured simply for
existing. In Victorian England parliament decided that the existence of
lesbians was better ignored (Jeffreys 1997) and although this in itself does
not constitute torture, it contributes through its denial of lesbian existence
to the maintenance of secrecy surrounding lesbians. In Maoist China lesbians
were defined out of existence, and yet as Anchee Min (1994) has shown through
her autobiography, lesbian existence continued in spite of “re-education” in
the Cultural Revolution’s labour camps where social and political conformity to
a single ideal was at its height.[4]
One of the defining elements of
lesbian existence in a patriarchy is its vulnerability to the demands of
secrecy, silence and non-existence. Like other marginalised and oppressed
groups, lesbians are often trapped in a “culture of silence” (Freire 1972: 48)
and like individuals from other oppressed groups this repression sometimes
turns inwards as violence to the self, extending in some instances to suicide.
Externally, it might result in a diagnosis by the medical authorities of “being
sick”, or inaccusations of acting against the will of God by religious authorities,
or in corporal or mental punishment through torture extending to execution by
state authorities.
Let me draw some parallels between
lesbians and other groups who experience political denial. In Argentina where
“the disappeared” became an integral part of the fabric of resistance, the
ability of the government to define who did and did not exist was part of its
strategy of fear (Partnoy 1986; Valenzuela 1985). In South Africa under
Apartheid “black existence was against the law of the invader (Millett 1994:
117). In Afghanistan under the Taliban, women’s existence was similarly denied,
tempered only by the burqa which not only hid women from men’s view, but
reduced them to the status of a “thing”. Also, consider the way in which
prostitutes are both vilified and yet are made an essential part of the
masculine military machine (Enloe 1983: 18-45). Similarly, Indigenous
Australians over many generations have suffered from being defined as
non-persons (Atkinson 2002: 69). Indeed, Judy Atkinson argues that the result
of this has been cultural genocide. By this she means internalised self-hatred
and the pervasive sense of worthlessness is amplified to the point where that
they become both persecutor and persecuted, and even executor[5]
(Atkinson 2002: 72).
All the above political
circumstances are relatively recognised in mainstream political analysis. But
lesbians remain largely unrecognised when it comes to suffering the trauma of
disappearance and denial. Under patriarchy, lesbian existence is denied, or
made illegal. Lesbians appear when the political atmosphere is open, and
disappear again during times of repression or backlash. Like indigenous peoples
whose culture has been denied, and who through long political activism have
built sustaining social myths and pride in their communities, lesbian feminist
activists since the late 1960s have been engaged in a similar process. But I
still hear people say there is no such thing as lesbian culture.[6]
Like black existence under Apartheid, lesbian existence inside the enemy
territory of patriarchy is an affront to the ideology of hypermasculinity. When
conformity becomes the norm, when masculine power is entrenched, and when
governments sanction human rights abuses or use torture, lesbians are always
among the victims.
So why is it that lesbians are so
rarely mentioned in the literature on torture? A clue lies in the following
statement from a Peruvian lesbian:
When I speak of
my right to my own culture and language as an indigenous woman, everyone agrees
to my self-determination. But when I speak of my other identity, my lesbian
identity, my right to love, to determine my own sexuality, no one wants to
listen (ILIS Newsletter 1994:13).
It is this distancing of political
support from others, who may well deem themselves progressive, that is a
feature of lesbian existence. Lesbians have supported, fought for, with and
alongside a host of other people for political rights, but when on the rare
occasions lesbians ask for support we find that “Only other dykes are proud of
dykes” (Hanscombe 1992). Such reactions have been evident after the recent
announcement by Australia’s Uniting Church to officially allow out lesbian and
gay ministers; likewise the consecration of the first openly gay bishop, Gene
Robinson, in the Episcopal church of the USA. It has been extraordinary to
watch ordinary people who in the main regard themselves as ethical come out
with intensely hate-filled sentences. Views most would probably not express if
it were an issue of race or culture or ethnicity or religion (to be sure, some
would express such views).
My hope is that through talking about the torture of
lesbians, and through naming and identifying the various strategies by which
the torture of lesbians is silenced, at some time in the future we might see a
campaign by Amnesty International which puts not children, not men, not women,
not the blanket grouping GLBTIQ, but lesbians at its centre. I suggest this
because Amnesty International is one of the few organisations that has
conducted research into the torture of lesbians, although their research has
the tendencies I have identified above: either lesbians who are tortured appear
in small ways in between the research on gay men (also on bisexuals) and
transsexuals (Breaking the Silence,
1997; Crimes of
hate, conspiracy of silence, Torture and ill-treatment based on sexual identity ACT 40/016/2001),[7]
or lesbians are mentioned in even tinier ways in between the research on women
(Broken bodies,
shattered minds —Torture and ill-treatment of women, AI Index: ACT 40/001/2001)
The reluctance to speak openly
about the torture of lesbians is given several justifications, some of which
can be found in the neglect or the invisibility of the torture of lesbians. One
reason put forward is that there will be further reprisals against the lesbian
who is imprisoned or a victim of torture. Secondly, there is the issue of
public sentiment. It is said to be difficult to drum up public sympathy for a
lesbian who is tortured. But these arguments are well known to feminists who
countered similar resistance to discussions around the sexual abuse of
children. In the long run, public awareness is still better than a veil of
silence. Kate Millett has said that “Torture is an index of unfreedom” (1994:
307). It appears we have a long way to go in creating freedom for lesbians. It
is perhaps even the case that the practice of torture on lesbians is the litmus
test of social freedom. While any lesbian is tortured, and no one really cares,
society is implicated and complicit in this violence.
Amnesty International’s Crimes of Hate report concludes with the
following statement “the struggle to protect the
human rights of LGBT people should be one that is waged by all” (Crimes of Hate 2001: 28). I agree, but I believe it is time for a
report that focuses specifically on lesbians.[8]
Silence, after silence, after silence[9]
The emphasis on silence cannot be
overstated. Lesbians have long been subjected to silence, to denial, to
non-existence within the dominant heterosexual discourse. Lesbians who are
tortured face multiple layers of silence. First there is the silence
surrounding lesbian existence. Second, in quite a few jurisdictions there is
legal silence: punishment is not formally meted out but occurs on an informal
basis instead, sometimes inflicted by the state, sometimes by members of the
woman’s family or by the community. When this occurs it is often difficult to
have the punishment recognised as a violation of the lesbian’s human rights and
as an instance of torture. In such circumstances the torturer can continue with
impunity because “no one will ever know, no one will ever hear you, no one will
ever find out” (Millett 1994: 300).
The scream of the lesbian tortured
in families, in prisons, in mental asylums remains unheard. She may call out to
others in her pain, but she cannot be heard because no one is listening. Few
dare to listen. Almost no one speaks out. And I would add that almost no one
cares about her torture, because she dares to be a lesbian.
In the next section of this paper I
want to break this silence and tell some stories of lesbians tortured in
different countries around the world in the last thirty years. The breaking of
the silencing of lesbians as a group has to be accompanied by stopping the silencing
of lesbians who have been tortured physically and psychically, as well as
socially and politically. These are short extracts, longer versions can be
found in the references cited.
They locked me in a room and brought him everyday to rape
me so I would fall pregnant and be forced to marry him. They did this to me
until I was pregnant… (Machida 1996: 123).
Tina
Machida is a Zimbabwean lesbian who now lives in Harare. Her rape took place at
the hands of her parents in the mid-1980s, in an effort to “cure” her of her
lesbian existence.
In nearby
Uganda Christine and Norah were tortured by military police, along with three
gay male activists in 1999. Uganda’s political colour is left, but President
Yoweri Museveni, like Mugabe in Zimbabwe, has no time for homosexual rights.
Indeed gays and lesbians are considered “less than human” (Crimes of Hate 2001: 6; also
see Tiripano. 2000). And in Namibia, the Home Affairs Minister,
Jerry Ekandjo has urged police to ''eliminate'' gay men and lesbians ''from the
face of Namibia'' (Crimes of Hate
2001: 6). In Zambia, activist organizations are illegal (Crimes of Hate 2001: 28).[10]
Christine said, “They tied
black cloths on our heads and led us to the cars.” And as was
reported:
When they took the blindfold off, Christine found
herself in a secret detention centre. She was stripped naked, beaten and
threatened with rape by the soldiers holding her. She was then taken to another
detention centre where she was interrogated about the human rights group the
friends had set up and about her sexuality. ''They asked me why I was not
married. I told them I was not interested in marriage. They asked me if I knew
homosexuality was taboo in Africa. I kept quiet. They said it was a criminal
offence and I could get a 10-year or life sentence. In the middle of that a
policewoman came in and said 'I heard there was a lesbian here, can you do [to
me] what you do to women?' I held my head high so she slapped me (Crimes of Hate 2001: 4).
She was later raped by three male detainees. As she
remembers:
Coming midnight,
they said 'we want to show you something'. They took my clothes off and raped
me. I remember being raped by two of them, then I passed out (Crimes of Hate
2001: 4).
Her friend Norah was taken to a
different place, a military barracks. Of her ordeal she says:
I was kept in a small filthy room with bats in the
ceiling. I was by myself in that room for about five hours, then three men came
in and started interrogating me. These men were so cruel and intimidating, it
was unbearable... I was also beaten, abused both sexually and physically. My
clothes were ripped off. Nasty remarks were made that I should just be punished
for denying men what is rightfully theirs, and that who do I think I am to do
what the president feels to be wrong. They even suggested that they should show
me what I am missing by taking turns on me (Crimes of Hate 2001: 5).
Africa, however, is not the only
place where torture of lesbians has occurred and is still occurring. I want to
emphasise the fact that torture against lesbians continues, because many
individuals believe that lesbians no longer suffer the pain, humiliation and
shame of systematic discrimination, let alone torture.
Mariana Cetiner was arrested in
October 1995 for “attempting to seduce another woman”. In June 1996, she was
convicted and sentenced under Article 200 of the Romanian Penal Code to three
years' imprisonment.
I was treated
very badly by the prison guards, because in Romania there is no approval for
those who have had relations between the same sex. And worse, the guards...
beat me and insulted me. Criminals are better regarded than a relationship
between two women… So because of this homosexual or lesbian thing… I was
treated like the lowest of the low (Crimes
of Hate 2001: 11).
During her imprisonment, after
complaining about her treatment by prison authorities she was handcuffed to a radiator and made to stand
for 11 hours “in a position like Jesus Christ” without food (Crimes of Hate 2001: 11).
And later still, after being
rearrested to serve out her full sentence when a third court rejected her
successful appeal of January 1997:
Mariana
Cetiner was taken to another penitentiary where she was placed in a high
security cell for violent detainees and was beaten both by guards and other
inmates. She said that in one incident she was left with broken ribs. When she
asked to see a doctor she was placed in solitary confinement for 10 days (Crimes of Hate
2001: 11).
Equating lesbian
existence with psychiatric disorders is not new. The treatment of those deemed
mad, unstable, unacceptable has been, and continues to be, a cause for not just
reform, but overturning of the system and of the definitions that trap people
into lives none of us would wish to be subjected to. The same fate awaits many
lesbians in countries where lesbianism remains a mental disorder. It is a
particular way in which families deal with unruly young women.
Alla
Pitcherskaia, a lesbian from Russia, was charged with the crime of
“hooliganism” (Crimes of Hate 2001: 20). Long-term forced institutionalisation
can be the ultimate result for many young women,[11]
and as in Alla Pitcherskaia’s case, her girlfriend was also “forcibly held in a
psychiatric institution” (Crimes of Hate
2001: 20). Alla Pitcherskaia’s crime consisted of continuing to work with a
lesbian youth organisation.
One of
the common themes in the torture of lesbians is its use against activists. For
the most part, it is not the lesbians who sit at home in domestic bliss, never
naming their sexuality, but silenced by it, who are under threat of torture
(although I would argue such silence is a psychic threat). It is those who
protest the abuses against others, including lesbians. It is those who name
their lesbian existence. It is those who break through fear and self-silencing.
They are tortured on behalf of all the others who remain silent and hidden.
Western
countries are not immune to such abuses occur. Female prisoners everywhere, no
matter what the reason for their incarceration, are likely to be subjected to
torture and abuse. Lesbian prisoners, especially those who find themselves in
the same institutions as men or guarded by men, because they break the rules of
how women should behave, are at an increased risk of torture and bad treatment.
Indeed, lesbians are likely to be targeted simply because of their sexual
orientation; because they/we are lesbians.
Robin
Lucas jailed for credit card fraud in 1995 in California. As was reported:
One evening in September
1995, three male inmates unlocked the door of her cell, handcuffed her and
raped her. Robin Lucas suffered severe injuries to her neck, arms, back and
vaginal and anal areas. Her attackers told her to keep her mouth shut and
threatened her with continued attacks if she kept complaining. Guards
implicated in these abuses were simply transferred to another facility; no
disciplinary action was taken. None of the guards or inmates involved was ever
charged with a crime. A civil lawsuit for compensation was settled in Robin
Lucas' favour in 1998. (Crimes of Hate 2001: 18).
There are
many countries where being a lesbian carries an immediate jail sentence, places
like Algeria, Burkina Faso, Ethiopia, Morocco, Tunisia, the Bahamas … Trinidad
and Tobago, Antigua and Barbuda, Barbados, Oman and Romania. Persecution,
however, extends to countries where theoretically, to be a lesbian is not an
infringement of the law, but in reality, it remains so. This is the case in
Colombia, Nicaragua, Sri Lanka, Brazil. In others, such as Afghanistan,
Bahrain, Iran, Kuwait, Mauritania, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Chechen Republic,
Sudan, Taiwan and Yemen, death is the penalty (Amnesty International 1997:
77-90). In Iran the methods of execution are cruel and painful “hanging,
stoning, being thrown off a cliff or high building, or facing a firing squad”
(Reinfelder 1996: 12). Other reports indicate that lesbians “have been beheaded
or stoned to death” (ibid: 12). Under fundamentalist regimes the torture of
lesbians can even be justifies on the basis that the man is doing his scared
duty. It is also difficult to ascribe the word “torture” to heterosexual rape
when it is regarded as so normal. In fact it is a quintessential form of
torture used against lesbians.
In Lima,
Peru, in 1994 seventy-five lesbians were arrested and beaten by the police. The
author notes that prostitutes “get a very rough time in jail” (Amnesty
International UK 1997: 24) but adds that.
the treatment of lesbians
was even worse Lesbians were beaten up because, however degrading prostitution
can be, it is still regarded as normal behaviour, whereas lesbianism is seen as
too threatening for the status quo” (ibid: 24).
Fleeing Torture: Lesbian Refugees
At the 6th International
Interdisciplinary World Women’s Conference in Kampala in 2002, I was speaking
about lesbian issues in a session towards the end of the conference. A woman
approached me and said that there were big problems for lesbians in Uganda, and
that gaining recognition as refugees was particularly difficult for lesbians.
This appears to be the case so often that some authors suggest there is no
documentary evidence on lesbians (McGhee 2003; Magardie 2003).
This in spite of the case of two
lesbians mentioned earlier – Christine and Norah – who were tortured in 1999.
So fearful were they of their safety, they fled to a neighbouring country.
There too, lesbian existence was criminalized and so they were unable to claim
asylum. They “were forced to spend several months in
hiding while they tried to find a way to get protection as refugees” (Crimes of Hate 2001: 5).
It
seems therefore that the evidence exists, but is not seen.[12]
Alla
Pitcherskaia from Russia who fled to the USA after threats to her liberty
because of her alleged “hooliganism” and her activism, lodged an application
for asylum. Initially it was rejected because “they claimed the motive for the
forced institutionalization was the desire to ‘treat” or ‘cure’ and not to
punish and therefore was not ‘persecution’ (Crimes
of Hate 2001: 19).
Monika Reinfelder notes that in
1990 the German government granted asylum to an Iranian lesbian “who would have
faced the death penalty had she been forced to return to Iran” (1996: 18).
There is
a problem with the invisibility of lesbians as refugees. The cases are not
numerous, but they do exist and must be made visible. Reinfelder comments that:
Many governments interpret
vaguely worded legislation (e.g. sexual act against nature) as only applying to
men. Not recognizing that they provide repressive contexts in which violations
against lesbians are commonplace. This, as well as the hatred of lesbians in
most countries, has prevented many persecuted lesbians from applying for
refugee status on the basis of their sexual orientation” (Reinfelder 1996: 18).
Many
lesbians therefore apply for asylum on the basis of political persecution. But
this can result in a failure to prove their status as refugees since the worst
abuses have occurred to them because they are lesbians If this cannot be
revealed, the case is weakened.[13]
What is
clear from these stories of torture is that the torture of lesbians occurs
under regimes of all political persuasion and at all levels of society.
Families can be responsible for the torture of daughters by repeated rape
(Machida 1996) or in the incarceration of young women considered unruly, out of
control, in mental asylums. Politicians may espouse left-wing political views
and still torture lesbians; under fundamentalism torture becomes a sacred duty.
Torture occurs when lesbians are violated by their fellow prisoners; in other words, even among the outsiders
lesbians are not safe. What remains a common feature is that lesbians are
tortured either in settings where hypermasculinity determines the context (in
the military, prisons or mental institutions where the distinctions in power
are grossly separated). Alternatively, the torture represents an acquisition, a
grab for power by men who have been deemed powerless and who revenge themselves
on lesbians (fellow prisoners). The origins of torture are fascinating. And
so-called “western civilisation” is replete with examples of torture used
against those who were the most marginalised. Page du Bois has argued that
torture is intimately connected with the history of slavery, and in the search
for an elusive truth.
Torture, slavery, women and truth
A “curious device [was] …
[s]haped like a pear, made of wood, but with metal attachments and pointed wood
pieces set into it. The caption said that the torturer put it into a woman’s
vagina and gradually expanded it inside her body until it broke (du Bois 1991:
3).
An
artefact of European history it is reminder of just how long the hatred of
women and practices around that hatred have persisted.
In
Ancient Athens and in Renaissance Florence – two hallmark periods in western
history of apparent flowering of “freedom”– torture was used as a means of
evidence (du Bois 1991; Lapierre 2001) Torture was heralded as the best avenue
to extract truth from witnesses. Slaves were the usual victims. I mention these
things because it is important to recognise how violence against women, and the
torture of women, is structured into the history of western culture, even – or
perhaps especially – in its “supposedly”
highest moments of civilisation. It reminds us that torture is not what someone
out there, different from “us” does to lesbians. It is a reminder that torture
has happened – and continues to happen now – around the world in apparently
civilised countries. It is a reminder that these apparently civilised countries
are the trainers of torturers in countries steeped in conflict and war and
civil unrest. How many Americans, how many British, how many French torturers
have trained the violators in Chile, South Africa, Iran, Algeria? It is a
reminder that women – and hence lesbians – who step outside the patriarchally
and heterosexually normative modes of behaviour, will be punished. As du Bois
argues, the logic of the western philosophical tradition “leads almost
inevitably to conceiving of the body as the other as the site from which truth
can be produced, and to using violence if necessary to extract that truth”
(1991: 6). Lesbians epitomise the “other” in the western philosophical
tradition, and the lesbian body is very clearly a world of “otherness”. As I
have argued elsewhere (Hawthorne 2003) the non-existence and erasure of
lesbians in heterosexual discourse is central to the normative structure of our
society. Lesbians share with torture the denial of existence.
Denial is
often not accorded much importance, but anyone who has been ostracised or has
the experience of being a member of a despised group will testify to the pain
which accompanies such a denial of existence, or denial of experience. Torture
annihilates the victim. The prisoner cannot determine when torture will cease
even by giving true and honest answers to the questions.
The
lesbian in the everyday world in so-called “progressive” societies can suffer a
similar, albeit milder, form of self-annihilation. This occurs through a daily
whittling back of her identity – formally or informally – through the denial of
existence, through illegality and punishment, and through secrecy. The range
and intensity of self-annihilation will depend on the political and social
circumstances in which the lesbian lives. In a country where lesbians face legal
sanctions, the impact can be very deleterious, softened only be a sense of
community experienced by those who are outcasts of the system. In more liberal
communities, individuals might still experience considerable pain because of
pressures of normalisation from family, work, religious and cultural
affinities. Only in radical circles is the lesbian likely to experience
affirmations of her identity, but even this is not guaranteed.
Psychic
retreat is one of the outcomes of the denial of lesbian existence. Kate Millett
calls this “ixile”. When public life becomes unendurable, retreat into an inner
world is a place of refuge. Millett concludes that “in today’s ‘one world’
there is no place to go” (1994: 307).[14]
This “one world” represented by patriarchy, has long had an impact on the lives
of lesbians, defining them as degraded, as not real women, a sick and
unnatural, as dangerous and antisocial elements and, at best, as renegades and
rebels.[15]
The
“relationship” between the torturer and prisoner is exemplified in the
“dialogue” that occurs between the two. While the interrogator asks the
questions with words, the prisoner answers with the body. Words are unnecessary
– and not only unnecessary – they are impossible. Elaine Scarry writes about
the way in which all-consuming pain blots out the world, unmakes the world,
destroys language.
In the
imagination of the lesbian fearful of punishment, ostracism or denial such
interrogation can go on internally as imagined conversations with those whom
she fears. Of particular importance are the internal interrogations that go on
between former abusers and their now-lesbian victims, or between those who have
indicated antipathy towards lesbians publicly in work, family, religious or
community settings. Out of this emerges a profound silence.
Furthermore,
because pain cannot be experienced by another person, even a person emotionally
or physically close to the sufferer, it contains in it an unreality of its
existence, an annihilation of the actuality of its importance to the person
experiencing pain. In torture, writes Scarry, the dichotomy of existence and
denial “is magnified”, it is “incontestably present … and yet it is
simultaneously categorically denied” (1985: 56). Ontologically speaking, this
is very like the experience of the lesbian whose existence is denied, even when
it is “incontestably present” in the minds of all who know her.
The story of Consuelo Rivera-Fuentes, Chile 1970s
This
story concerns events that took place nearly thirty years ago. It is a contemporary
story informed by a history of political lesbian and feminist activism. The
authors provide a unique insight into the experience, and as they state at the
beginning, it is a performance rather than a testimony. It’s also important
because it is framed to be read by those engaged in Women’s Studies. The
article, co-authored by Consuelo Rivera Fuentes with her partner Linda Birke
appeared in 2001 in Women’s Studies
International Forum (24) 6: 653-668.
The
article is written in part to ask why feminist scholarship with it emphasis on
the body in recent years, has dealt so minimally with the body in pain, and in
particular on torture. There are exceptions. Here are three that I have found
thought provoking: Elaine Scarry’s The
Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World (1985), Page du Bois’ Torture and Truth (1991), and Kate
Millett’s The Politics of Cruelty: An
Essay on the Literature of Political Imprisonment (1994). I have noted a recent surge in interest about
trauma among feminist scholars, and this may go some way toward looking at the
issue of torture, although trauma studies tend instead to focus on
psychological rather than physical pain and so the pain of the body remains
unexamined. As Rivera-Fuentes and Birke put it:
The body remembers
again and again … and again … The body remembers and pain becomes a part of our
dreams and of our nightmares because we don’t have a valve to release them in
any other way. The body wishes to be a body again, to have a mind … the body
wants a soul (Rivera-Fuentes and Birke
2001: 657; italics and ellipses in original).
Among the
difficulties experienced by anyone subjected to torture is how to convey the
experience of pain inside the body. Elaine Scarry argues that pain in itself
“is language destroying” (1985: 19). For a lesbian this is doubly difficult
because the heteronormative discourse of society is not open to understanding
the utterances of lesbians. It is hard enough to get people to empathise with
and understand a person from another culture, another political regime, an
unknown country. Add to that the prospect of lesbian existence and lesbian
culture and the difficulty of the task is amplified yet further. Here I am
intentionally speaking as if the listener is a heterosexual. For the lesbian listener,
the experience is likely to be very different.
Within
heterosexual discourse the lesbian epitomises the body untrammelled. The
lesbian body is a body out of control in a patriarchal sense, that is, it is
ungoverned by patriarchal rules. For the torturer, the prisoner’s body has also
become a body out of control and such lack of control is shown each time pain
is inflicted.
… all wave after
wave of electricity, no control … I am losing control of my/self … I
can’t stop the shit, the piss, the tears, the jerks, the yells
(Rivera-Fuentes and Birke 2001: 655; italics and ellipses in original).
Elaine Scarry writes of the
prisoner’s lack of control, and way that responsibility for it is deflected
back to the prisoner:
Despite the fact that in
reality he (sic) has been deprived of all control over, and therefore all
responsibility for, his world, his words, and his body, he is to understand
that his confession as it will be understood by others, is an act of
self-betrayal (1985: 47).
There is
an element here of just why it is that sexual orientation has been considered
outside the ambit of UN Human Rights rules and why lesbian refugees struggle so
hard to be recognised, heard and acknowledged as “genuine” refugees. It is
about the self-betrayal of the body. If lesbian existence is a choice, so the
argument goes, then the lesbian can just as easily choose not to be a lesbian.
The problem is that her body betrays her. Her speech as a lesbian is taken to
be a self-betrayal. It is read this way, rather than as a problem of patriarchy
and oppressors. It is an instance of what Mary Daly names as “reversal”. The
victim is the one at fault, not the perpetrator.
… what they will never understand is that I
love you precisely because you are not a man (Rivera-Fuentes and Birke
2001: 656; italics and ellipses in original).
The
torturer through this process, dispenses all culpability, all responsibility
for the pain inflicted on the tortured person. His conscience is clear. It is
all her fault. If only she would do what is best for her. In fact, he will help
her by raping her, by showing her just what a real man can do for her, just how
what she needs is “a good fuck, from real men” (Rivera-Fuentes and Birke 2001:
656). This, I suggest, is the source of the proliferation of male sexual
fantasy about the torture of lesbians. And if you have any doubt about this,
type into the Google search engine the words “torture + lesbian” or “lesbian +
torture” and you will be swamped by sites in which this fantasy is catered to. To
this extent the real torture of lesbians can be diminished and denied, since
from such sites it is clear that lesbians “enjoy” being tortured. The male
fantasist has dispensed with his sense of culpability too, deflecting it onto
the lesbian who is the object of his fantasies.
To
summarise my argument: the prisoner of torture is considered out of control;
the lesbian is considered out of control. The tortured lesbian is therefore
doubly out of control (and in a society where lesbians are defined as mentally
ill, triply out of control). Since she is so clearly out of control, anything
that happens to her is her fault because if she chose to behave differently,
she would not be tortured. The torturer/male sexual fantasist/pornographer is
therefore able to abandon all sense of responsibility for his actions and for
his beliefs about lesbians. It is in her interest that he torture her, rape
her, show her just how good he is. Or, as Elaine Scarry writes, “Every weapon
has two ends. In converting the other person’s pain into his own power, the
torturer experiences the entire occurrence exclusively from the nonvulnerable
end of the weapon” (1985: 59).
Patriarchal methodology
In conclusion, I would like to
suggest that there is a patriarchal methodology and that this methodology
consists of torture at its centre. In Athens of the Classical period it was
used against the slave, usually a barbarian (barbaros in Greek). The slave to ancient Athenians represented the
unknowable other. The slave represents a hidden truth. As Page du Bois notes:
… a hidden truth, one that
eludes the subject, must be discovered, uncovered, unveiled, and can always be
located in the dark, in the irrational, in the unknown, in the other. And that
truth will continue to beckon the torturer, the sexual abuser, who will find in
the other – slave, woman, revolutionary – silent or not, secret or not, the
receding phantasm of a truth that must be hunted down extracted, torn out in
torture (1991: 147).
The lesbian – slave, woman and
revolutionary – represents to man the torturer the unimaginable,[16]
an entirely secret existence, an existence that is unobtainable and
inaccessible because it specifically excludes him – and excludes him in his
primary area of dominance (in his framework) – sex and violence. Patriarchal
methodology is used to maintain the institution of heterosexuality.[17]
The lesbian represents the outcast, the refugee who cannot get a hearing
because her “nation” does not exist, is not recognised, has no geographical
boundaries, and has no history, no lineage.
Must lesbians conjure their
existence out of thin air? Will other groups of people support the need for
lesbian cultural pride? For the sheer naming of the existence of lesbians?
The issue here is the importance of
means and ends. If lesbians remain outside the scope of social justice reform,
then everyone’s civil and political rights remain in jeopardy. The most
difficult political reforms to make are, in the long run, the most important
because they give us a clue as to the limits of our preparedness to live an
ethical existence. If one is unable to fear for the lives and well-being of
those who are most different, then one is incapable of defending justice for
all – even at the most basic level – such as freedom of association, freedom to
love.
References
Amnesty International. 1997. Breaking
the Silence: Human rights violations based on sexual orientation, London:
Amnesty International United Kingdom.
Amnesty International. 2001. Crimes of hate, conspiracy of silence, Torture and
ill-treatment based on sexual identity ACT
40/016/2001.
Amnesty International. 2001. Broken bodies, shattered minds —Torture and ill-treatment
of women, AI Index: ACT 40/001/2001.
Atkinson, Judy. 2002. Trauma
Trails, Recreating Song Lines: The transgenerational effect of trauma in
indigenous Australia. Melbourne: Spinifex Press.
Cuomo, Chris. 2003. Lesbian and
its Synonyms: (An essay for all feminists). In Cuomo, Chris. The Philosopher Queen: Feminist Essays on
War, Love and Knowledge. Oxford: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers:
105-125.
du Bois, Page. 1991. Torture and Truth. London: Routledge.
Enloe, Cynthia. 1983. Does Khaki Become You? The militarisation of women’s lives. London:
Pluto Press.
Frank, Liz and Elizabeth Khaxas. 1996. Lesbians
in Namibia. In Reinfelder, Monika (ed.) Amazon to Zami: Toward a global lesbian feminism. London: Cassell:
109-17.
Graham, Dee. 1995. Loving to
Survive: Sexual terror, men’s violence and women’s lives. New York: New
York University Press.
Hanscombe, Gillian. 1992. Sybil:
The Glide of Her Tongue. Melbourne: Spinifex Press.
Hawthorne, Susan. 2002a. Wild
Politics: Feminism, Globalisation and Bio/diversity. Melbourne: Spinifex
Press.
Hawthorne, Susan. 2002b. Fundamentalism, Violence and Disconnection. In
Susan Hawthorne and Bronwyn Winter (eds,). September
11, 2001: Feminist Perspectives. Melbourne: Spinifex Press: 339-359.
Hawthorne, Susan. 2003. From The Lesbian Body
to Same-Sex Attracted: The Depoliticising of Lesbian Culture. Australian
Women’s Studies Association Conference. University of Queensland, Brisbane. 15
July.
ILIS Newsletter 15 (2) 1994.
Jardine, Alice A. 1985. Gynesis:
Configurations of Woman and Modernity. Ithaca and London: Cornell
University Press.
Lapierre, Alexandra. 2001. Artemisia:
A novel. New York: Grove Press.
Machida, Tina. 1996. Sisters of Mercy. In Reinfelder, Monika (ed.) Amazon to Zami: Toward a global lesbian
feminism. London: Cassell: 118-129.
Magardie, Sheldon. 2003. ‘Is the applicant
really gay?’ Legal responses to asylum claims based on persecution on account
of sexual orientation. Agenda: Women, the
Invisible Refugees (55): 81-87.
McGee, Derek. 2003. Queer Strangers: Lesbian
and gay refugees. Feminist Review: Exile
and Asylum (73): 145-147.
Min, Anchee. 1994. Red Azalea. London: Victor Gollanz.
Millett, Kate. 1994. The Politics of Cruelty: An Essay on the Literature of Political
Imprisonment. London: W.W. Norton.
Partnoy, Alicia. 1986. The Little School House: Tales of disappearance and survival in
Argentina. San Francisco: Cleis Press.
Reinfelder, Monika. 1996. Persecution and Resistance. In Reinfelder,
Monika (ed.) Amazon to Zami: Toward a
global lesbian feminism. London: Cassell: 11-29.
Rivera-Fuentes, Consuelo and Linda Birke. 2001. Talking With/In Pain:
Reflections on bodies under torture. Women’s
Studies International Forum 24, (6): 653-668.
Scarry, Elaine. 1985. The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
Schoppmann, Claudia. 1996. Days of Masquerade: Life stories of lesbians during the Third Reich. Translated
by Allison Brown. New York: Columbia University Press.
Tiripano, Tsitsi. 2000. “Fighting for Lesbian and Gay Rights in
Zimbabwe”. Off Our Backs. Vol. 30,
No. 4. April. 1, 6-7.
Valenzuela, Luisa. 1985. Other Weapons. In Other Weapons. Hanover, NH: Ediciones
del Norte: 103-135.
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Appendix i
Guidelines for officials interviewing lesbian refugees[18]
• It should
not be assumed that women presenting for asylum are seeking asylum simply
because their spouse or another male family member is doing so; they might need
asylum in their own right, and for very different reasons, including persecution on the basis of their sexual orientation.
• Some women
may however be persecuted because of their association with men who are under
threat. If they are lesbians, their level of risk may be increased.
• It should
not be assumed that a married woman cannot be a lesbian. In some countries
marriage is the first level of protection a lesbian might seek.
• Lesbians
seeking asylum are likely to be politically active, but even lesbians who are
not politically active come under threat in some countries.
• Do not
assume that because a woman does not use the word lesbian to describe herself,
that she is not a lesbian. It may have been too dangerous for too long for her
to be able to speak the word lesbian (or the equivalent in her language) out
loud.
• Do not
assume that because there is no word for lesbian in any particular language
that there are therefore no lesbians in that society or linguistic group.
• Do not assume
that if a woman comes from a country where it is not illegal to be a lesbian,
that she is therefore not able to claim having been tortured or in danger of
torture or other external harm to her self.
• Do not
assume that your interpreter is open to her experience. The interpreter may be
hostile to her claim.
• Lesbians
who have been tortured will find it difficult to speak of their experience.
Speaking to a stranger is difficult, speaking to a strange man might be
impossible. Uniformed men may precipitate reliving the experience of torture.
• As a result
of trauma, some lesbians may be unable to relate the experience at all, or may
appear detached and emotionless. This should not be read as evidence of
fabrication.
• Lesbians
who are refugees might also be in danger from their families, in particular
from the men in their families. Her confidential interview should not be shared
by asking questions about her sexual orientation of other family members.
[1]
I am grateful to a lesbian in
Uganda who may prefer to remain anonymous and who drew my attention to the
injustices against lesbians in her country in 2002; to Consuelo Rivera-Fuentes
and Lynda Birke (2001) whose article I stumbled across soon afterwards; to the
anonymous researchers at Amnesty International whose reports on the torture of
lesbians provide so much of the first hand material, and to Lara Fergus who
sent me the Crimes of Hate document
from Amnesty International; to Claudia Reinfelder whose book Amazon to Zami (1996) contains some of
the other first hand accounts; and to an unnamed friend with whom I discussed
at length her experience of torture. I thank her for her time and generosity in
sharing what was an extremely painful experience.
[2]
Quotes from lesbians who have
been tortured are distinguished by the use of italics throughout. In the case
of Rivera-Fuentes and Birke, the original story told by Rivera-Fuentes is in
italics. Quotations from other sources retain roman typeface.
[3]
For the purpose of this paper, I
deal solely with the torture of lesbians. The paper does not focus on torture
of gay men, bisexuals, transsexuals or intersexual people. While some of the
issues overlap, because I am concerned with the disappearance of research on
lesbians, that is where my focus lies.
[4]
In April 2001 the Chinese
Psychiatric Association decided that homosexuality would be deleted from list
of mental disorders in the Chinese Classification of Mental Disorders Third
Division (Crimes of Hate 2001: 20)
[5]
The high incidence of suicide,
especially during adolescence, among lesbians and gays is an instance of hatred
turned against the self. I do not discuss suicide at any length in this paper.
[7]
There is a significant shift in
the balance of cases reported by Amnesty International between 1997 and 2001.
This could be due to several factors 1) a greater willingness on the part of AI
to look into torture of lesbians 2) an increase in the incidence of torture of
lesbians 3) an increase in the reporting of the torture of lesbians 4) a
combination of these and other factors.
[8]
I suggest that separate reports
are required on the different groupings represented by the acronym LGBTI, as
each faces different and specific causes. It is time to spell out some of the
nuances rather than calling for blanket inclusiveness, a strategy which in the
long run will be detrimental to each group, but particularly so for lesbians.
[11]
Think about the lesbians you know
who have been incarcerated and labelled as mad. Think about the “treatment”
they have received. Was it electroconvulsive therapy? What is the difference
between this and the shocks given to prisoners who are tortured? Was it the use
of drugs? What is the difference between this and a host of other silencing
techniques used by torturers? In most instances the difference is simply the
name of the institution in which it occurs; in some instances there is also a
difference in intensity, or in the fact that “patients” are given shock
treatment while unconscious. See Millett (1994) for a discussion of the
similarities. Rivera-Fuentes and Birke also discuss the role of doctors in
places where torture is inflicted (2001: 658-660).
[12]
Another case of a lesbian seeking
asylum is contained in the Crimes of Hate
Report: “Irina, a Russian lesbian, claimed asylum in the USA on the grounds
that she had been tortured or ill-treated by a range of people, including
police, private investigators and her own family members. Irina described how
in 1995 her sisters demanded she give up custody of her son and get psychiatric
treatment to “cure” her of her homosexuality. Her mother threatened to disclose
her sexual orientation to the authorities unless she gave up her son. Irina's
parents hired two investigators to probe into her lifestyle. The investigators
claimed to have a video tape of Irina having sex with her partner and
threatened to report her to the police unless she paid a large sum of money.
Irina and her lover went to the police to report this attempt to blackmail
them; the officer responded by sexually harassing them. One day, the
investigators abducted her at knife point and took her to an apartment.
Together with another man, they raped Irina to “teach her a lesson” and
“reorientate” her sexual identity. Irina decided not to report the rape to the
police because of her past experience at their hands” (Crimes of Hate 2001: 22).
[13]
The Appendix contains some
guidelines for how to treat lesbians applying for asylum on the basis of their
sexual orientation.
[14]
I will not go into detail about
the homogenising effect of globalisation and the increasing power of
military-industrial complex, as I have written about this at length in
Hawthorne (2002a; 2002b).
[15]
As antisocial elements under the
Nazi regime, lesbians were forced to wear a black triangle along with those
labelled as asocials: a very flexible label which included prostitutes, criminals,
the homeless, unemployed, Gypsies – including Sinit and Roma – and lesbians
(Schoppmann 1996: 21).
[16]
Alice Jardine in Gynesis positions “women at the margin
of incomprehensibility”. If “women” as a group are incomprehensible, how much
more so are lesbians? The incomprehensibility justifies the use of torture to
gain access to the hidden truth. Chris Cuomo makes a passing reference to this
aspect in her work, where she writes, “ Lesbians are truth-tellers about female
bodies” (2003: 125).
[17]
The Stockholm Syndrome, in which a
hostage begins to love her captor, is a useful model for normative
heterosexuality and the compliance of large numbers of women within patriarchal
society (Graham 1995).
[18]
The idea for this came from a
similar list of guidelines contained in Agenda: Women, the Invisible Refugees (55).
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