Lesbian citizenship and filmmaking in Sweden in the 1970s
This chapter examines two rare lesbian film productions in Sweden in the 1970s, The Woman in Your Life is You (Lesbian Front, 1977) and Eva and Maria (Marie Falksten, Annalena Öhrström and Mary Eisikovits, 1983). The two films are unique cases illuminating the official shift from regarding homosexuality as a mental disorder to regarding homosexuals as a vulnerable group exposed to prejudice and discrimination in Sweden in the early 1980s. Both were funded by the state agency Socialstyrelsen [The National Board of Health and Welfare], the same agency in charge of the official classification of homosexuality as a mental disorder in Sweden until 1979. Drawing from archival research and interviews, the chapter sheds light on the rhetorical twists and euphemisms through which lesbian filmmaking was inserted into the National Board of Health and Welfare’s budget and administered as an issue of birth control education. The notion of vulnerability, the chapter argues, played an instrumental and multifaceted role in the production of lesbian citizenship and audio-visual self-presentation at this moment in time.
Don’t Ever Wipe Tears Without Gloves as a reparative fantasy
This chapter analyses Don’t Ever Wipe Tears Without Gloves (Torka aldrig tårar utan handskar), a trilogy of novels by Jonas Gardell (2012–13) and a three-part TV drama (2012) on the HIV/AIDS crisis in Stockholm in the 1980s, as an intense occasion of affective historiography. While enabling the gay community to revisit the trauma of HIV/AIDS, to mourn the victims and to communicate the injuries to the mainstream audience, the transmedial epic also engaged in a politics of nation. While issuing a fierce accusation of homophobia against past Swedish society, through processes of resignification and transference, the epic and its extensive media coverage reframed the HIV/AIDS-stricken bodies as objects of compassion, restoring the self-image of Sweden as a caring nation, a welfare state and folkhem, a people’s home. In a reparative and fantasmatic gesture, it concludes in a Christian dream of redemption for both queer subjects – celebration in life, turning of shame into life – and the nation, provided that ‘we all wipe each other’s tears without gloves’. Analysing the epic and its media framings, the chapter examines the terms by which gay history may be incorporated into a national narrative, and how vulnerability may become a resource for the nation-building.
This chapter focuses on the politics of hurt and bad feeling within feminism: how hurt, injuries and experiences of violence bring people to feminism, how racism, sexism, injury and injustice generate agency and political transformation, but also how the hurt expressed by those who have been traumatised by sexism or racism is often heard as imposition. Discussing the figure of the too-easily-hurt student, the charges against Women’s Studies as anti-intellectual talk about hurt feelings, and feminism itself as politically impoverished (and damaging to the left) because of its concern with individual consciousness and suffering, as well as the figure of the melancholic migrant, the author highlights a tendency to underestimate the difficulty of giving and sustaining attention to forms of suffering. As a result, the desire to move beyond suffering in reconciliation and ‘get over it’ means that those who persist in being hurt become seen as killjoys and causes of general unhappiness. Instead, the author suggests, bad feelings should be seen as creative responses to histories that are unfinished
The failure and success of a Swedish film diversity initiative
Mara Lee Gerdén
This chapter examines the affective politics of the Fusion Programme launched by the Swedish Film Institute in 2016 to promote diversity in Swedish film production. The programme emphasised innovation, intersectional analysis, and feminist and anti-racist perspectives on artistic practices. The author, a participant in the programme alongside seven other women of colour, investigates the tensions between participant motivations and a film policy which balanced conflicting frameworks: an outspoken effort to attain goals for gender equality, the desire to implement a perspective on diversity, a notion of quality informing Swedish film policy since the 1960s, and a Swedish self-image expressed as a need to ‘implement Swedish values’. While launched in the name of advancing diversity in Swedish film, it is argued, there was a clear tension between the quality film rhetoric of the Swedish Film Institute and the participants’ insistence on making race play a major role in the respective projects. The chapter investigates the resulting ‘affective indigestion’, analysing pain as a central theme in the majority of the participants’ projects, but also as a recurring emotion emerging from the affective clash between the institutional desire to produce diversity and the participants’ refusal to submit to that desire.
The chapter examines the Swedish media debate around the animated children’s film Liten Skär och Alla Små Brokiga [Little Pink and The Motley Crew] (Stina Wirsén, Sweden 2012). It focuses particularly on the ways in which the film’s pickaninny figure, Little Heart, and the hurtfulness of this stereotype were discussed and contested in the context of Swedish exceptionalism, where Sweden imagines itself as a raceless, tolerant country, supposedly less affected by postcolonial relations than other nations. The author reflects on the debate partly from an autoethnographical perspective, shedding light on the simultaneous invitation to participate and silencing of black voices in the debate. The chapter argues that the debate ended up producing a sense of white fragility as a priority instead of dealing with anti-black racism, its consequences for black people, and its ongoing maintenance through representation. Drawing on afro-pessimist scholarship, the chapter elucidates the ways in which blackness and black life have become contested, unfathomable objects in Swedish mainstream media debates.
The ambivalence of queer visibility in audio- visual archives
This chapter looks at the dynamics of visibility and vulnerability in audio-visual heritage. It analyses how film archives in Sweden and the UK, following their diversity policies, address and mobilise the notion of queer in their online exhibition, recognising and making visible queer lives, history and cinema, and how they negotiate the risks of increased visibility. As points of contrast and comparison, it discusses two queer ‘minor archives’ Bildwechsel (Hamburg) and the Lesbian Home Movie Project (Maine). Understanding archival practices as performative acts, this chapter examines practices of cataloguing and the use of metadata as politics of recognition, discusses the ambivalences of visibility, and looks at challenges for online curation in term of contextualisation and targeting audiences. It makes a case for an increased self-reflexivity of the archive, outlining how national film archives could foreground their own role in the production of (normative) knowledge. In view of the risk of queer vulnerability, heritage institutions such as national film archives are in need of a thoughtfully conceived and ethically executed archival practice.
The chapter maps out and examines online debates about trigger and content warnings in the late 2010s, asking how they negotiate vulnerability. Whose vulnerability comes to matter most in these debates, how, and for what aims? The chapter proposes that the figure of the trigger warning currently circulates most intensely in three contexts: first, in feminist discussion forums where the use of warnings is a desired, required and normalised practice; second, in the feminist, queer and anti-racist academic opposition to trigger warnings which emphasises the pedagogical value of discomfort; and third, in the circulation of trigger warnings in anti-feminist online spaces. Each of these contexts understands vulnerability in somewhat different but overlapping ways: as a standpoint that both prohibits and enables; as a necessity to life that must be embraced; and a paradoxical position where claims to power are made through claims of disempowerment. The chapter does not argue against or for trigger warnings but invites readers to re-evaluate their own stances and understand what is at stake in the opposing as well as defending arguments, depending on context.
The power of vulnerability interrogates the new language of vulnerability that has emerged in feminist, queer and anti-racist debates about the production, use and meanings of media. The book investigates the historical legacies and contemporary forms and effects of this language. In today’s media culture, traumatic first-person or group narratives have popular currency, mobilising affect from compassion to rage to gain cultural visibility and political advantage. In this context, vulnerability becomes a kind of capital, a resource or an asset that can and has been appropriated for various groups and purposes in public discourses, activism as well as cultural institutions. Thus, politics of representation translates into politics of affect, and the question about whose vulnerability counts as socially and culturally legible and acknowledged. The contributors of the book examine how vulnerability has become a battleground; how affect and vulnerability have turned into a politicised language for not only addressing but also obscuring asymmetries of power; and how media activism and state policies address so-called vulnerable groups. While the contributors investigate the political potential as well as the constraints of vulnerability for feminist, queer and antiracist criticism, they also focus on the forms of agency and participation vulnerability can offer.
This chapter inquires after the intermeshing of privilege, white male vulnerability and desirability in the narrative fantasy of the massively popular 50 Shades of Grey novel trilogy. Focusing particularly on the male protagonist Christian Grey, the chapter asks what makes the traumatised and vulnerable super-rich white man appealing as a heterosexual fantasy figure. First, the analysis addresses the use of generic romance and erotica conventions as well as the gendered forms of affective labour that the figure of the broken, rich, sad white man entails, motivates and fuels. Second, and in connection with Eva Illouz’s (2014) analysis of Fifty Shades as self-help, the interconnections of trauma and sexual fantasy within the novels’ broad appeal are examined. Third, the chapter explores how male vulnerability of the spectacular kind works in relation to social and economic privilege, the dynamics of BDSM and gendered relations of power – namely, how the narrative centrality of a privileged yet broken white man attunes the imagery of material opulence, limitless wealth, kink play and heterosexual fulfilment in a markedly depoliticised vein.
This chapter discusses trigger warnings in university classrooms and explores notions of vulnerability, harm and danger in relation to emergent and contradictory strands of feminism. Some feminist writers, like Laura Kipnis, claim that university campuses have become home to sex panics and paranoia, evident in the calls for trigger warnings. Other feminists, like Sara Ahmed, register the university campus as a site of sexual violence and administrative indifference to which students react by asking for warnings. What kind of feminism is needed at a time that indicates a new level of sensitivity to explicit materials in classrooms and online? The chapter argues that trigger warnings should be opposed. While some content warnings are reasonable, given how much explicit material circulates on screens nowadays, the relations between explicit representations and trauma need to be questioned. Instead of defending viewers and students from difficult material, the trigger warning boils all explicit material down to assaultive imagery while at the same time it reduces the viewer to a defenceless, passive, and inert spectator.