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Candace Farmer

English 350

Final Paper

May 11 2021

Less Laughter, More Medusa

What is feminism? A cursory search of the term produces definitions that signify an

ideology that aims to establish equality, both economically and politically, between the sexes.

Deeper examinations reveal it to be a movement that has endured many transformations over

the years, through what is now classified into four distinct waves. The first wave arrived during

the late nineteenth century in the western hemisphere and focused upon a clear initiative:

women’s suffrage. When that decades long battle came to a screeching halt in the early 20th

century, women began looking to extend their movement into different territories, giving birth

to a less definable second wave of feminism. Enter Helene Cixous, a French feminist writer,

critic and philosopher who focused her written works on post-structuralist concepts. In her best

known essay, “The Laugh of Medusa” (Cixous,1975), Cixous argues that women need to write

with their bodies and sexuality in order to liberate themselves from a patriarchal existence.

However, despite critical acclaim to the contrary, her essay does not inspire positive evolution.

Ironically, through its poor analogy, unoriginal philosophy and contradictory prose, Helene

Cixous produces a work which commits the same sin she charges men with: restricting women.

Repurposed Marxism

For better or worse, one of the most influential political writers of modern times was

Karl Marx, the German philosopher and co-author of the culturally potent Communist
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Manifesto. Since its publication spelling out the need for classist revolution, many writers have

refashioned his ideas into their own philosophies and revolutionary aims. Helene Cixous is one

such writer. Although she reclassifies the Marxist struggle as existing between, not the working

class and capitalist bourgeois, but women and men—the underlying concepts of her work are

the same. At times, it is difficult to determine where Marxist ideology ends and Cixous’

feminism begins. She rather explicitly connects the ideas herself by clarifying to women that

“not that in order to be a woman in struggle you have to leave the class struggle or repudiate it;

but you have to split it open, spread it out, fill it with fundamental struggle so as to prevent the

class struggle… from operating as a form of repression” (Cixous,1975). It is apparent that Cixous

views the feminist movement not separate from, but as a necessary extension of Marxist

teachings. Also quite telling is her usage of the term “fundamental struggle” to describe the

battle that women face. It was Karl Marx who used the same terminology decades earlier to

spell out the “fundamental evil of capitalist society” (Marx, 1835). Cixous learns from him that

by rooting oppression—making it fundamental—oppression can be seen virtually everywhere.

The advantage of such a universal diagnosis is that it guarantees perpetual allegiance to a

purported cause.

Chief among Marxist principles is an insistence on collectivism. It is a commitment to

the belief that revolution will only be attained through the eradication of the individual. The

concept of “I” must be converted into “we” in every aspect of the human experience. Struggle

is therefore a shared commodity. Marx wrote that “history calls those men the greatest who

have ennobled themselves by working for the common good” (Marx, 1835). Cixous strikes a

similar note by formulating her essay as a call to action to “we the precocious, we the repressed
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culture, our lovely mouths gagged with pollen, our wind knocked out of us, we the labyrinths,

the ladders, the trampled spaces, the bevies…” (Cixous, 1975). The struggle she paints belongs

to “we”—not just to the author, but to every woman. She impresses upon readers that the

experiences of the female sex are communal. By writing in plurality, Cixous makes it clear that

her aim is to convince the masses of a shared duty to a higher cause. Marx aimed, to convince

the masses of a shared duty to a higher cause. It is also noteworthy that she describes women

as a labyrinth, a word which conjures complex, maze-like imagery. Such complexity was core to

the ideology presented by Marx who coined the theory of “permanent revolution”. He argued

for expansive grievances, making the purpose and direction of uprising, indefinite. In essence,

the struggle is without a verifiable end point. Helene Cixous reclassifies this notion in her

feminist manifesto, committing women in similar perpetuity to upset. Despite her repeated

claim that writing will liberate women, she also signifies that, “it is impossible to define a

feminine practice of writing, and this is an impossibility that will remain, for this practice can

never be theorized” (Cixous, 1975). This quotation is crucial for it lays bare Cixous’ pattern of

thinking; it lacks direction and is intentionally elusive. Cixous therefore does not seek to

constructively evolve women to a freer being, but to radicalize them. This is much in the same

manner that Marx sought to radicalize the proletariat against the bourgeois and capitalism.

Cixous extends that ire to “the reductive stinginess of the masculine-conjugal subjective

economy” (Cixous, 1975). To her, the economic structure which must be collapsed is

phallogocentrism which she believes authors every traditional, societal ill known to mankind.

Seeing traditional society as problematic is the reason that Marx sought to be eradicate

family structures. He believed traditional families were perpetuators of capitalist oppressions


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and held its institution responsible for convincing the masses to accept unequal treatments.

Highlighting this permeation, Helene instigates that “for a long time it has been in body that

women have responded to persecution, to the familial-conjugal enterprise of domestication, to

the repeated attempts at castrating them”. Helene believes the traditional family roles are

oppressive to women and must therefore be collapsed. Emancipation she believes can only be

achieved through a radical undoing of all things traditional, including the suppression of the

female body. Her explicit idea is that a woman’s “libido will produce far more radical effects of

political and social change than some might like to think”. But radicalization is not an end goal,

it is call to militancy. Cixous then does seek to liberate women but to enslave them to her own

indoctrinations. It’s worth noting that it was Marxist ideology which birthed communist

regimes worldwide, leading to the death, famine and destruction for the millions of people who

placed their hopes in its false promise of deliverance. Helene’s aimless refashioning of its ideas

might inspire comparable miseries.

And that Karl Marx was a man certainly leaves something to be said.

Second Wave Feminism:

What Helene does accomplish in her essay is the production of a solid introduction to

second wave feminism: a near obsession with adversarial struggle against men. Unlike the more

important feminism of the past which focused on equal political and occupational opportunities

for women, its successor, born in the 1960’s, focused on a perceived cult of domesticity.

Paradoxically it fostered an anger toward men for attributes that the movement itself

embodied. It is upon this tier of conflicted feminism that Helene Cixous, however unwittingly,
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becomes a wizard of contradictions. She writes passionately about the pressing need for

women to liberate themselves from the pages of men but cannot appreciate the irony that her

piece spectacularly fails to accomplish the same. In fact, she accuses men of what she herself is

guilty of: confining women to certain roles. She does this most perceptibly through her claim

that a woman who does not outwardly speak or write is, “reduced to being the servant of the

militant male, his shadow” (Cixous,1975). This is an eloquently stated emotional threat. She is

telling women that should they not take up her call to action by either speaking or writing, then

have failed to accomplish anything beyond men. She pleads with woman to recognize their

persecutions without ever daring to consider they may not share her discontent. Rather

fatefully, Cixous believes that she can somehow create a space for women by restricting them

to her own.

Perhaps the most frustrating element of the piece is its purported omniscience. Cixous

routinely makes sweeping proclamations such as, “I know why you haven’t written (And why I

didn’t write before the age of twenty-seven.) Because writing is at once too high, too great for

you, it’s reserved for the great—that is, for ‘great men’ and it’s ‘silly’” (Cixous,1975). Once

again, she is universalizing her own dilemma. It is entirely likely that many women are, as she

instigates, intimidated by the process of writing just as it is entirely likely, though she never

considers the plausibility, that many men are too. The interests, passions, and desires of

individuals are not genetically determined. Paradoxically, in her desperate attempt to assign

agency to women writ large, Cixous removes it. She simultaneously fancies herself the great

liberator of women everywhere and in more glorious quest, promotes herself to an acclaimed

critic. She plainly states that “with a few rare exceptions, there has not yet been any writing
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that inscribes femininity”. In one sentence, Cixous denigrates the whole of feminist writings

that came before her. Evidently, only Helene Cixous holds the power to recognize femininity

and she damns all but a few rare exceptions to inefficacy. Perhaps the only thing greater than

her ego are the glaring errors of her logic. Cixous complains of men stereotyping women, but

who more suited to create stereotype than a woman claiming to know exactly what femininity

both is and is not?

Cixous is herself imbibed with male consciousness, the very trait she accuses the women

before her of possessing. She comes close to acknowledging this dilemma almost as swiftly as

she dismisses it, writing “isn’t it evident that the penis gets around in my texts, that I give it a

place and appeal? Of course I do. I want all. I want all of me with all of him” (Cixous,1975).

While convicting the women before for existing only in the discourse of men, she forgives

herself the same. It is here that her essay arrives at its truest pitch; it is but a master course in

literary petulance and dizzying thought-patterns. Cixous glides quickly from one impassioned

thought to the next, never once pausing to examine or justify her illogic. The author lacks

rationality. She wishes to be everything and everywhere to everybody all at once—both a child

an adult, a woman and a man, at all times and at every place. She is, at her core, a child-like

idealist lacking any mature. Of course, she would argue that making entirely no sense and

lacking focus is the purpose. Every argument is hers, and thus none.

Re-enter Medusa

Cixous summons the Medusa to drive home her thesis of women removing themselves

from the various persecutions of men. In Greek mythology Medusa is known as the once
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beautiful maiden who was punished for having sexual relations with Poseidon. Transformed

into a hideous creature with a snake crown upon her head, Medusa is feared for her ability to

turn any person who dares to look her in the eye into stone. Implicitly lonely and objectified,

she seems an obvious choice for feminist theatre. Cixous at first mentions her in an

examination that men are, “riveting [women] between two horrifying myths: between the

Medusa and the abyss…it’s still going on. For the phallologocentric sublation is with us, and it’s

militant, regenerating the old patterns, anchored in the pattern of castration” (Cixous,1975).

The author’s allegation here is clear; she believes that men hold the view of female sexuality as

either horrifying (hence the Medusa) or non-existent. She posits the solution is for women to

write, or more specifically, for women to write their bodies and sexuality, unapologetically.

Rather than retreating the Medusa—and analogy for the fearful spirit buried deep within every

woman—Cixous encourages women to embrace her, because, “isn’t this fear [of Medusa]

convenient for[men]? Wouldn’t the worst be, isn’t the worst, in truth, that women aren’t

castrated? That they have only to stop listening to the Sirens (for the Sirens were men) for

history to change its meaning?” (Cixous, 1975). Again, Cixous holds the paradigm of the

patriarchy accountable for the poisoned perspectives women hold of themselves. She believes

if women stop listening to the Sirens (male interpretations) they will soon come to know inner

peace and happiness. She further instructs that people “only have to look at the Medusa

straight on to see her. And she's not deadly. She's beautiful and she's laughing…” It is a moving

assertion. It suggests that the Medusa is only horrendous because she is interpreted under the

male gaze. It should be countered, however, that the shortsightedness of Cixous’ female gaze

equally corrupts Medusa. Because despite the best intentions, Cixous employs only an
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elementary understanding of the mythical Medusa and her indefatigable legacy. She

erroneously assumes Medusa is a character in need of literary rescuing when in truth, Medusa

never needs the laughter attributed to her. The essay problematically focuses upon Perseus,

the mythical slayer of the Medusa. Cixous reimagines him “trembling, moving back toward us,

clad in apotropes”(Cixous, 1975). Blinded by her obsession with patriarchal allusion, she

conveniently omits the more crucial character of the tale, the Goddess Athena, who

transformed the Medusa into the hideous snakehead as punishment for her affair in the

temple. Far from the preferred feminist storyline of male oppression, Medusa’s appearance is

the direct consequence of female wrath—not male.

It is also relevant that Medusa’s beheading, despite simple interpretations, does not

represent death, but liberation through birth. Although Cixous consistently refers to women

needing to find release, she fails to identify it within the tale she draws inspiration from. As the

myth goes, Medusa’s severed neck gives birth to the warrior Chrysoar and more notably,

Pegasus, the pure white, winged, divine horse—one of the most recognized creatures in all of

the Greek mythology. Beyond that, the Medusa lives on; though Perseus severs her head, he

fails to kill her and must rely upon her power to defeat other enemies upon his journey.

Removed from Cixous’ unnecessary reimaginations, the Medusa is a powerful symbol to be

revered for her perseverance. Far from salvaging Medusa’s reputation, Cixous misunderstands

it. Ultimately, it is Helene Cixous who kills the Medusa, reducing her to a damsel in need of

literary savior. Like the men she convicts, Cixous essay ensnares a historically potent female

character with shallow revision.


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Conclusively, far from cultivating female independence, Helene Cixous seeks only to

inspire militant allegiance to her own cause. Through its patent arrogance, universal

assumptions, and shoddy analogies, “The Laugh of Medusa”, despite its impassioned prose,

both objectifies and limits women. It is a production of little more than overly verbose, faux-

feminist drivel, which aims at everything and therefore accomplishes nothing. Most fatally, the

essay repackages the earlier ideologies of a man. And worse than its lack of originality is its

inability to perceive its own hypocrisies. Despite posturing against domesticity, Helene Cixous

does not free women from entrapment but attempts to usher them toward a different kind:

second wave feminism. She insists that women must write to proclaim their own uniqueness,

not appreciating that true freedom is only attained in the absence of “must”. Perhaps then,

society needs less laughter and more Medusa: the nuanced, complex, historical figure who,

most pertinently, made history.


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Works Cited
Karl Marx, M. E. (1996). Communist Manifesto. London: Pluto Press.
Cixous, Helene “The Laugh of Medusa”, translated by Paula Cohen, Keith Cohen, University of
Chicago, 1976.

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