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 Volume 5 Number 2
Autumn 2003

Psychology of Women Section

Review

Special Issue
APPEARANCE

The British Psychological Society

Psychology of Women Section Review

Aims and scope

T HE PS YCHO L O GY O F WO MEN
S ECTIO N REVIEW has been established
to provide a forum for discussion of issues and
Editorial Group
Lindsay O’Dell, Editor
debates around all aspects of the psychology of
Psychology Department,
women in research, teaching and professional prac-
The University of Luton,
tice. It aims to promote and support academic
Park Square, Luton, Beds LU1 3JU
research and debate on issues related to the
E-mail: lindsay.o’dell@luton.ac.uk
psychology of women and encourage the develop-
Tel: 01582 734111
ment of theory and practice concerning gender and
other social inequalities. In particular, it also seeks Paula Reavey, Assistant Editor (Agora)
to encourage contributions from individuals at all Division of Psychology,
stages of their careers – including undergraduate South Bank University,
and postgraduate students – as an appropriate 103 Borough Road, London SE1 0AA.
forum to provide feedback on new ideas and first E-mail: Reaveyp@lsbu.ac.uk
publications. It promotes a reviewing process Tel: 020 7815 6177
where positive and constructive feedback is
provided to authors. Moira Maguire, Assistant Editor
The Psyc hology of Women Sec tion Review aims to (Research)
publish: Department of Psychology,
Universitry of Westminster, 309 Regent Street,
l theoretical and empirical papers;
London W1B 2UW.
l reviews of relevant research and books; E-mail: maguirm@wmin.ac.uk.
l special issues and features;
Katherine Johnson, Assistant Editor
l observations, commentaries, interviews, short
(Books)
papers and original or non-traditional submissions
School of Applied Social Science,
in the ‘Agora’ section;
University of Brighton, Falmer,
l correspondence. Brighton BN1 9PH.
It is produced by the Psychology of Women E-mail: k.e.johnson@brighton.ac.uk
Section of the British Psychological Society, and
mailed free of charge to all members of the Section. It Advisory Group
is available on subscription to non-members of the
Section. Lib ra rie s , o rg a n is a tio n s a n d in d i- Petra Boynton Royal Free and University
vid u a ls c a n s u b s c rib e a t a ra te o f £ 1 2 College Medical School
p e r ye a r – p le a s e s e n d c h e q u e s p aya b le
Karen Ciclitira Middlesex University
to Th e Ps yc h o lo g y o f Wo m e n S e c tio n
c a re o f th e Ed ito r a t th e a d d re s s in s id e Kathy Doherty Sheffield Hallam University
th e b a c k c o ve r. Issues can be purchased individ- Helen Malson University of Western Sydney
ually at a cost of £4 (back copies may also be avail-
able). Fo r d e t a ils o n c h a rg e s fo r Ann Phoenix Birkbeck College,
a d ve rtis in g s p a c e , p le a s e c o n ta c t th e University of London
Ed ito r. Paige Sinkler Marie Stopes International
Catherine Swann Health Development Agency
Table of contents

Editorial 2
Papers
Introducing the body: (In)Visibility and the 3
negotiation of embodied identities
Hannah Frith
Getting noticed: Using clothing to negotiate visibility 7
Kate Gleeson & Hannah Frith
Rep/hairing the ‘natural’: Black hair and identity 12
in post-apartheid South Africa
Yvette Morey, Lindy Wilbraham & Hannah Frith
Standing apart – sizing up social identity 17
Rosanne Levene & Kate Gleeson
Youth, beauty and pride: Privileging young bodies 23
Hannah Frith & Kate Gleeson
Liability or asset? Women talk about the vagina 28
Virginia Braun & Sue Wilkinson
Gender issues in facial disfigurement: A review of 43
the literature concerning early adulthood
Jess Prior & Andrea J. Price
Constructing womanhood across the lifespan: 52
The example of the transition to higher education
Sally Johnson
Agora
A more creative forum for the academic/ 65
practitioner/activist
Paula Reavey
Living with a different appearance: 67
Myths and realities
Lorna Reenoy
Research Reviews 73
Book Reviews 78

1
 Editorial

AM DELIGHTED to welcome you to the Autumn edition of POWSR. This edition has a
I special focus on the body and appearance. Hannah Frith, Kate Gleeson, Roseanne Levene,
Yvette Morey and Lindy Wilbraham have produced a collection of papers which critically examine
aspects of appearance including youthfulness, body size and women’s hair. These papers were
collectively submitted with inter-linking themes and issues.
The theme of the body is further dealt with in Ginny Braun and Sue Wilkinson’s paper which
examines women’s talk about their vaginas. The paper discusses ways in which women feel their
vaginas are both an asset and as a liability. Jess Prior and Andrea Price’s paper on facial
disfigurement discusses gender issues in appearance and the ways in which this is particularly
important during adolescence.
Lorna Reenoy from the charity Changing Faces gives a personal insight into facial
disfigurement in the ‘Agora’ section. The ‘Agora’ section welcomes pieces such as Lorna’s that
represent either a personal commentary on an issue or a commentary on a charity or community
group working with/for women. POWSRis committed to publicising the good work of researchers,
women’s groups and charities. This edition also includes an advertisement for Changing Faces
which features a woman with a facial disfigurement. The advertising campaign has won the charity
awards for its innovation and effectiveness. It is important that we recognise that the pressure
(particularly on women) to have and maintain a perfect appearance is damaging, coercive and
highly unrealistic to many.
The theme of appearance is further discussed in a research review by Merran Toerien who
reviews two papers which deal with the construction of feminine beauty in
beauty salons.
This edition also deals with a variety of issues relating to women and psychology.
Sally Johnson’s paper addresses issues faced by women in Higher Education. In the
‘Book Reviews’ section we have a review of Lois MacNay’s book on gender and agency by Amanda
Visick and Katie Burke’s review of Men and Masc ulinities. In addition,
Jo Neale reviews research on geographically distant mothers.
Finally, the editorial team would like to thank the team at University College, Northampton
for a very successful POWS Conference 2003. The 2004 POWS Conference will be held at the
University of Brighton. A call for papers will be issued shortly.
With best wishes.

Lindsay O’Dell, Editor.

2
 Papers

Introducing the Body:

(In)Visibility and the
negotiation of embodied
identities
Hannah Frith, University of the West of England.

HE POLITICS OF appearance has long been a
T central issue in the psychology of women,
both because women are more likely to be
judged and evaluated by their appearance than
men, and because women's bodies are dispar-
aged, commodified and objectified. The
following collection of short articles explores
the ways in which women actively construct
appearance and identity in relation to visibility
and the visual. These papers represent some of
the work currently being conducted at the
Centre for Appearance Research at the
University of the West of England1 and some
of this material was previously presented at the
Women and Psychology Conference at
Birkbeck College, July 2002. We first provide
an overview of the key feminist debates in this
area before outlining the key themes which
draw these papers together.
Women’s bodies are invested with social,
cultural and political discourses which shape
the ways in which women make sense of and
experience our embodied selves. The ways in
which women think about and talk about our
bodies cannot be separated from our physical
experience of them (Ciclitira & Weaver, 2002),
and our knowledge of the competing and
contradictory web of discourses through which
we make meaning of them. These discourses
prescribe the ways in which bodies should be
understood as well as the ways they should
look, feel and be used. Pernicious social
discourses which map out ‘acceptable’ and
‘appropriate’ female embodiments, have been
thought to influence women’s pursuit of the
‘ideal’ body through the use of routine beauty
practices (Chapkis, 1986; Bartky, 1990),
fashion (Wilson, 1985; Entwistle, 2000),
dieting (Chernin, 1981; Orbach, 1986; Bordo,
1993), and cosmetic surgery
(Davis, 1995).
Women's attempts to manipulate the
appearance of their bodies by harmful, expen-
sive and humiliating means were initially seen
by feminists as a pervasive form of oppression,
and the women who engaged in these practices
were seen as ‘victims’ of patriarchal values (see
for example, Chapkis, 1986). Feminists
encouraged women to free themselves from
dominant norms of femininity, to cast-off their
own obsession with beauty, and to accept
themselves and their ‘natural’ bodies. With the

1
The aim of this centre is to extend knowledge and understanding about the psychological, cultural,
epidemiological and socio-economic aspects of appearance and to relate this knowledge to policy and practice.
The interests of the centre cover a wide range of appearance-related issues including disfigurement and visible
differences, health-related appearance concerns (such as cancer, skin disease, burns, etc.), and appearance and 3
identity. More information can be found on the website: www.uwe.ac.uk/fas/car/.

Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 3–6

ISSN: 1466–3724
 Introducing the Body
advent of postmodernism, it has become
increasingly impossible to speak of a ‘natural’
body which women could or should accept –
the body has been re-conceptualised as a social
construct upon which cultural discourses of
beauty, femininity and identity are inscribed.
Foucault (1977/1985) popularised many ideas
which had previously been voiced by feminists
when he argued that power is not necessarily
exercised from above, but operates at the
micro-level through the disciplining of the
body in relation to cultural discourses. These
discourses implicate the female body in the
construction of femininity and what it means
to be a woman in ways which illustrate
gender/power relations. In other words, ‘the
female body became a text which could be read
as a cultural statement about gender/power
relations’ (Davis, 1995, p.11). In this sense
women are not simply duped by patriarchal,
capitalist, consumer society into beautifying
themselves for consumption by men, but
collude in these cultural processes by self-regu-
lating and self-disciplining their bodies in
order to reproduce themselves as women
(Bordo, 1989). The idea that bodies and iden-
tities are socially constructed and performative
(rather than static and pre-determined – cf.
Butler, 1990) has meant that feminists have
had to consider the ways in which women
actively adopt ‘beauty practices’ in doing
‘woman’ and experience this as empowering or
pleasurable. Such culturally embedded prac-
tices cannot easily be cast-off, and it is not clear
how women might change their circumstances
given that they cannot stand outside of culture.
Whatever feminists think about the tyranny of
the beauty system, it is not as if women have
the option not to appear.
As Frost (1999) points out, women have to
make decisions about how to present them-
selves and how they want to appear to them-
selves and to others. Looks can never be
‘natural’, but have to be made re-made, fabri-
cated, created, teased, moulded, and manufac-
4 tured. The meaning of bodies and aspects of
appearance clearly locate them within the
realm of the political. Women's understanding
of their own bodies are negotiated in relation
to cultural ideals about appropriate standards
of beauty and appearance which are structured
by regimes of difference such as gender, race,
class, sexuality, and (dis)ability amongst
others. Young has argued that the body (and
the appearance of the body) plays a central role
in the way that societies designate particular
groups as Other – what she calls the ‘aesthetic
scaling of bodies’. Subordinate and oppressed
groups are defined by their bodies, and their
bodies are seen as ‘drab, ugly, loathsome,
impure, sick or deviant’ (Young, 1990, p.123).
Meanings are inscribed and written onto the
body but this is never only a passive top down
process, these meanings are taken up, rejected
or reworked by individuals when they nego-
tiate their own appearance. Although women
have often been positioned passively in relation
to the beauty system, we need also to consider
women's sense of agency and purposefulness in
presenting their bodies and identities (Davis,
1995).
The aim of the following papers is not
(primary) to present a summary of empirical
research (although we do draw on empirical
research to illustrate the points we raise), but
rather to raise questions, points of discussion,
and matters for consideration in relation to the
politics of appearance. Davis (1995) defines
embodiment as an individual's interactions
with their body and through their body with
the world around them, and each of the
following papers explore women's under-
standing of how their embodiment affects their
relationship with themselves, with others, with
their appearance and with the beauty system.
In particular, we consider the following three
areas:
1. Natural versus created ‘looks’. All the
papers demonstrate that women actively adopt
particular ways of appearing – that they
construct a look and manipulate the ways in
which their bodies appear to others. While it is
clear that there is no ‘natural’ look towards

which women could or should aspire, nonethe-
less, the ‘natural’ is a powerful discourse in
policing women’s appearance, and is something
which is used by women to situate their own
practices. For example, the second paper illus-
trates the ways in which the category ‘natural’
makes black, kinky hair an essential character-
istic of black identity and embodiment, and
something which participants argue has to be
‘made good’. In the final paper, we see how
young women construct youth and beauty as
intrinsically linked, such that youthful bodies
can be displayed and admired. Rather than
being ‘naturally’ beautiful these young bodies
have to be wrapped up and decorated in order
to be recognised as being naturally beautiful.
As feminists we do not assume that there is a
natural look unfettered by patriarchal
discourses – instead we need to interrogate
discourses which construct the boundaries
around natural and artificial looks.
2. Agency and the negotiation of
visibility and appearance. Appear-ance, visi-
bility and power are intricately intertwined.
Women’s visibility is a source of critical
appraisal, evaluation and anxiety as we are
caught in the objectifying glare of the male
gaze, and remaining invisible or unnoticed
give a welcome respite from intrusive stares.
Conversely, invisibility may be a source of
marginalisation and disempowerment is and
becoming visible can be experienced as a source
of recognition, admiration, or pride. Women’s
negotiation of visibility and appearance is
discussed in each of the papers in the context of
social and cultural discourses which inscribe
meanings to particular kinds of bodies and
particular ways of appearing. For example, the
first paper, explores the ways in which young
women actively negotiate their visibility in
public spaces and their attempts to be
‘noticed’, while the third paper, describes the
attempts of larger women to negotiate a posi-
tion of invisibility when their body size posi-
tions them as noticeable.
Hannah Frith
3. Audiences and being seen. When we dress,
we also address an audience. However, this is not
a simply matter of communicating identities to
an audience in a straightforward linear way as
some social psychological research would have us
believe. Rather, it is clear from the papers
presented that women's understanding of their
body is inseparable from the way in which their
bodies are received by others. If we think about
our appearance and bodies as both a body project
(Shilling, 1993) and as an identity project
(Giddens, 1991), then the success of this project
depends on its acceptance and recognition, both
socially and interpersonally. It is here that the
notions of visibility, invisibility, display and
spectatorship become central to understanding
women's lived experience of their embodiment.
As Frost (2001, p.85) observes, ‘Identity is
based, then, on visual engagement with others,
and the identity produced is dependent on being
seen as well as seeing’. Since we cannot control
the ways in which our displays are interpreted
and understood, appearing is always and neces-
sarily a risky business. Moreover, audiences for
our visual displays are shifting and multiple
switching from people we engage with in inter-
personal interactions, to our understanding of
generalised and imaginary others, to a more
abstract sense of being under surveillance. The
papers illustrate the ways in which women
actively engage with this sense of being seen.
Our intention is to provoke the reader into
considering some of the following questions:
How can we reconcile women’s oppression
through discourses of ‘beauty’, and recognise
women’s active negotiation of, and resistance
to, these discourses? How can we understand
women’s complicity in reinforcing oppressive
beauty ideals, both by engaging in technologies
of beautification, and in evaluating other
women according to these ideals?
References
Bartky, S.L. (1990). Femininity and domination:
Studies in the phenomenology of oppression. 5
London: Routledge.
 Introducing the Body

Bordo, S. (1993). Unbearable weight: Feminism, Psychology Department,

Western c ulture, and the body. Berkeley: Centre for Appearance Research, University of
University of California Press. the West of England,
Butler, J. (1990). Gender trouble: Feminism and the St Matthias Campus, Fishponds,
subversion of identity. Bristol, BS16 2JP.
New York: Routledge. Tel: 0117 3444409
Chapkis, W. (1986). Beauty secrets. London: Fax: 0117 3444407
The Women's Press. E-mail: hannah.frith@uwe.ac.uk
Chernin, K. (1981). The obsession: Reflections on
the tyranny of slenderness. New York: Ha nna h Frith is a Senior Lecturer in Social
Harper & Row. Psychology and Qualitative Research Methods at the
Ciclitira, K. & Weaver, J. (2002). The body. The University of the West of England. Her current
Psychologist, 15(4), 180–181. research interests focus on the role of appearance
Davis, K. (1995). Reshaping the female body: The and specifically clothing in the negotiation of young
dilemma of cosmetic surgery. London: women’s identities.
Routledge.
Entwistle, J. (2000). The fashioned body: Fashion,
dress and modern social theory. Cambridge:
Polity Press.
Foucault, M. (1977/1985). Discipline and punish:
The birth of the prison. Harmondsworth:
Penguin.
Frost, L. (1999). ‘Doing looks’: Women,
appearance and mental health.
In J. Arthurs & J. Grimshaw (Eds.), Women's
bodies: Discipline and transgression. London:
Cassell.
Frost, L. (2001). Young women and the body: Afemi-
nist sociology. Basing-stoke: Palgrave.
Giddens, A. (1991). Modernity and self-identity:
Self and soc iety in the late modern age.
Cambridge: Polity Press.
Orbach, S. (1986). Hunger strike: The anorectic’s
struggle as a metaphor for our age. London:
Faber & Faber.
Shilling, C. (1993). The body and social theory.
London: Sage.
Wilson, E. (1985). Adorned in dreams: Fashion and
modernity. London: Virago.
Young, I. M. (1990). Throwing like a girl and
other essays in feminist philosophy and social
theory. Indianapolis: Indiana University
Press.

Correspondence
6 Hannah Frith

Getting noticed: Using
clothing to negotiate
visibility
Kate Gleeson & Hannah Frith, University of the
West of England.
not something we can
O UR APPEARANCE IS
ignore. It is not as if we can choose not to
appear. Although as feminists we argue that
appearance should not determine how people
should judge us and treat us, we also recognise
that appearance is anything but superficial.
Informa-tion about our attitudes, attributes
and identities is often ‘read off’ from our
appearance, and people engage in a wide range
of practices to mould, manage and manipulate
their appearance. Despite this, there is rela-
tively little theorising of visual subjectivity in
psychology. Our interviews with young people
aged 11 to 18 about their clothing practices
and the management of their appearance were
infused with concerns about and reflections
upon the complex web of different gazes in
relation to which they negotiate their visibility.
There is a lot at stake for a young woman when
she presents her image, and there is risk in
being noticed. If the image she presents is too
strong, takes up too much space, is too ‘in your
face’, then she might be accused of being
‘showy’. In attempting to make sense of this
data, we draw on notions of the gaze which
have developed in two distinct arenas. The first
is Laura Mulvey’s (1975) foundational work on
the patriarchal male gaze, and the second is
Michel Foucault’s (1979) notion of the discipli-
nary gaze.
Mulvey draws on psychoanalytic concepts
to explain the visual pleasures involved in
consuming cinematic texts. Starting from the
Papers
assumption that within phallocentric, patriar-
chal cultures cinematic texts reflect the desires
of heterosexual masculinity, Mulvey argues that
dominant cinematic conventions construct the
active male protagonist as the point of identifi-
cation for the viewer. Conversely, female char-
acters are constructed passively as an object
that is displayed for his pleasure — the male
‘gaze’. In the context of this monolithic male
gaze, the film narrative draws on two processes.
The first is the objectification of the image that
is accompanied by the voyeuristic pleasure of
looking in on the bright private world depicted
in the film from the dark anonymity of the
cinema. The second is identification with the
male protagonist who, due to the structure of
the narrative, invites the viewer to indirectly
experience the power to possess the female
character in the text. As such, Mulvey argues
that cinematic texts are dominated by an
‘active/passive heterosexual division of labour’,
where men are active observers and women are
passively gazed upon (1975/1999, p.384).
Foucault introduces the notion of the disci-
plinary gaze through the metaphor of the
Panopticon (an architectural design for a peni-
tentiary) which he uses to explain the operation
of power. Foucault reconceptualises power as
operating not from above through constraint,
but as ‘disciplinary power’ which operates
through self-surveillance and self-discipline
rather than force. The key feature of the 7
Panopticon’s design is that inmates are housed
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 7–11
ISSN: 1466–3724
 Getting noticed
in a peripheric building in small cells with
windows at each end, while a central tower
with large windows looking out at the cells
holds a guard. Backlighting through the
windows of the cells makes the inmates
constantly visible to the central tower, while
the design of the tower means that the guards
are not visible to the inmates. Consequently,
the inmates must behave as if they are being
observed at all times since they can never be
sure whether or not the guard sees them, or
indeed, whether a guard is even present in the
tower. In monitoring their behaviour the
inmates act as their own disciplinary agents.
Disciplinary power, then, is exercised through
surveillance when people behave as if they are
constantly being watched and discipline their
behaviour accordingly. Or as Foucault himself
notes: ‘there is no need for arms, physical
violence, material constraints. Just a gaze. An
inspecting gaze, a gaze which each individual
under its weight will end by interiorising to
the point that he is his own overseer, each indi-
vidual exercising this surveillance over, and
against himself’ (1977, p.155). Foucault
regards the disciplining of the body as the
primary site of power relations and a powerful
instrument of social control, as such the
interest in his ideas from feminist scholars is
understandable.
Our aim in briefly characterising this work
is not to engage in a detailed analysis of these
approaches, but to raise questions about how
these notions of ‘gaze’ might be useful in
explaining our own data on young women’s
clothing practices, and what further research
questions they prompt. Both Mulvey and
Foucault invite us to consider relations of
looking, of observing others, and being seen
ourselves – albeit from different disciplinary
perspectives focusing on different kinds of
theoretical questions. However, their
theorisation of the gaze and the operation of
visibility is disembodied and disowned. For
Mulvey, relations of looking are structured in
8 cinematic conventions of narrative in which a
‘male’ gaze operates independently of the male
and female viewers of the film. For Foucault,
the disciplinary gaze also operates indepen-
dently of embodied spectators, indeed this is a
crucial part of its success as a form of power.
Feminist researchers have often drawn on
Foucauldian notions of discipline and surveil-
lance to explore women’s appearance practices
and explain their ‘voluntary’ involvement in
oppressive practices of beautification (e.g.
Bartky, 1990; Bordo, 1993). But, these
analyses may overlook the importance of rela-
tions of looking between individuals who are
visible to each other, and the role of the
construction of appearance in negotiating these
processes. It is on this latter conceptualisation
of the gaze that we focus.
As embodied subjects we are always already
visible. For women, who experience visibility
as a form of objectification, visibility may be an
unwelcome burden, or as Foucault puts it:
‘Visibility is a trap’ (Foucault, 1977/1999,
p.64). However, although permanently visible
to our self-disciplining selves, our visibility to
others is negotiable and managed. Our partici-
pants talked about trying to merge into the
background, to render themselves invisible by
wearing neutral clothes. For example, Emma
talked about wearing dark clothes with plain
colours as if these could in some way mask her
identity:
Em m a : like when I’m just wearing normal
clothes, I don’t think it like reveals nothing,
because I usually go for like quite dark and just
like colours, like plain colours and stuff, but I
don’t think they reveal nothing, ’cause I’ve got
a really bright personality, I’m really loud and
everything like that, but if you look at me like
how I’m dressed how you wouldn’t necessarily
…
Dark clothes are for Emma a code for
saying: ‘I’m giving nothing away’. Feminist
deconstructions of the patriarchal male gaze
have led us to assume that being the visible
object of the gaze is an inherently powerless
position, consequently adopting the relative
safety of concealment may be a tempting
strategy. Our participants talked about actively

adopting an invisible position by merging into
the background, and taking up less prominent
and safer positions by dressing in dark, neutral
clothes. Invisibility may be regarded as an
empowering strategy used by women when
they feel at risk and potentially exposed. Oliva
Espin (1996) alluded to this in her description
of Muslim women using the veil to gain the
powerful position (like the guards in the
Panopticon) of seeing without being seen. By
merging into dark, neutral colours and homo-
geneity, young women are able to move into
public spaces and escape notice by using
clothes to conceal themselves. Under the glare
of the disciplinary gaze, we may regulate the
appearance of the body so that it becomes invis-
ible to the interpersonal gaze others.
But, using ‘neutral’ clothing was not the
only strategy that our participants used, many
adopted a variety of different positions in rela-
tion to clothing and visibility, that were seen as
temporary and shifting. At times they wanted
to be bolder, to be visible, and to make a show
of themselves. They wanted to take up space
and to be noticed:
S a ra h : Some days I’ll think I really want to
’er maybe want to make more of a show of
myself and buy something that’s more bolder
and that what I might sometimes not normally
wear – if I feel bolder I want to be noticed I’ll
wear that sort of clothing but ’er some days I
might think well I’m not in that sort of mood
so I’ll, I will be noticed but not as boldly as
sometimes so I wear baggier clothes or some
days I’ll just say ‘Oh God I can’t be bothered,
I’m just gonna slap anything’, just wear
anything at all, so…
One way of getting noticed is to dress in a
way that stands out because it is different to
what others are wearing.
A number of the women we interviewed talked
about wanting to wear really
‘individual’ clothes, clothes which make them
look different They talked about using clothes
and fashion to take up powerful provocative
positions, and although there was some
ambivalence in the expression of emotions
Kate Gleeson & Hannah Frith
attached to being noticed many expressed
enjoyment.
Em ily: I want people to think I’m different
and not
Ka te : aha aha?
Em ily: just trying to follow fashion
Ka te : aha?
Em ily: and I suppose sometimes I try and
annoy people with what I wear
Ka te : Yeah?
Em ily: being really mad one day and then I’ll
get some looks, and I love it because I know
I’ve annoyed them ’cause I think it’s stupid just
trying to hide yourself in stuff like fashion, I
hates it
Ka te : So what kinds of things would annoy
people? Like if you were trying to annoy people
what would you wear?
Em ily: Well it’s stupid because if you do the
tiniest thing different Kate: um
Em ily: Then they’ll get really funny about it
[material omitted] If you do something
different, tiny like, they’ll be really funny
about it and like ‘what’s she done? Why is she
doing that?’, and just try and annoy them.
Emily describes her peers’ attempts to pres-
sure her to conform not only to an appropriate
and ‘fashionable’ identity, but also to maintain
a continuous and consistent identity. Although
they make negative comments about minor
changes in her appearance, Emily is determined
to present herself as ‘different’ and to make
others take notice of her. Tseëlon (1995)
describes one of the paradoxes inherent in
female existence as being ‘simultaneously
socially invisible, while being physically and
psychologically visible, an object of the gaze’
(p.54). For young women who are, in many
ways, relatively invisible, choosing to be
visible, and challenging others to take notice of
them can be a relatively powerful position. As
Koskela (1997) argues dressing can be seen as ‘a
form of resistance against the male gaze, as an
opposition to the visual mastery over women,
achieved not by being invisible or absent, but 9
by dressing up proudly’ (Koskela, 1997,
 Getting noticed
p.309). A similar approach is adopted in
lesbian and gay communities when ‘gay style’
is used to highlight the critical, political nature
of visibility in a dominant culture, and when
being visible is about creating alternative
spaces in response to mandatory heterosexuality
(Freitas, Kaiser & Hammidi, 1996). What
cultural spaces might visibility open up for
these young women?
Not only might visibility be useful polit-
ical strategy for women, but being visible,
being seen, and being noticed, is often experi-
enced as pleasureable. As Young (1990, p.190)
observes women respond to the objectifying
male gaze in a number of different ways. Some,
she argues, may ‘loathe and fear the gaze that
fixes her in shock or mockery’, while others
‘may enjoy the attention and learn to draw the
gaze to her bosom with a sense of sexual power’.
Feminist critiques of the male gaze have
centred on the ways in which women’s appear-
ance is objectified by being coded for strong
visual and erotic impact which connotes ‘to-be-
looked-at-ness’ (Mulvey, 1975). Here, the
woman as spectacle is rendered passive – an
object to be looked at. Little attention has been
given to women’s active negotiation of the
image they present in relation to their use of
visual, gendered and erotic codes in order to-
be-looked-at, and the pleasure they experience
in constructing this image. While importantly
Mulvey identifies relations of looking a site for
pleasure, she pays little attention to the plea-
sures involved in being looked at, but this
would seem a fruitful area for feminist research
in relation to women’s engagement in fashion,
dress, and appearance management practices.
Following Mulvey, others have raised questions
about the female gaze and female subjectivity
and pleasure in media texts (Gamman &
Marchment, 1988). These questions could be
usefully asked of women’s interpersonal
engagement with one another as visible selves:
What pleasure do we receive from looking at
other women, and in being looked at by other
10 women, and what role does this play in the
construction and display of our visible selves?
In sum, our data suggest firstly that
women are aware of issues of visibility and
invisibility, and they see these issues as being
linked to power, confidence and control in
complex and contradictory ways. Within femi-
nism visibility and invisibility have been
construed variously as empowering or disem-
powering positions for women to adopt,
however, the processes involved in women’s
agentic negotiations of, and shifts between,
positions of visibility and invisibility have
often been overlooked.
Secondly, the links between forms of
subjectivity and forms of spectatorship need to
be further explored so that practices of looking
include practices for being looked at. When is
being looked at
pleasurable? What is the root of this
pleasure? In what contexts is being looked at
pleasurable or unpleasant? Does it matter who
is looking?
Finally, it is important to recognise that
gazes and visibility operate at different levels.
Foucault focuses on abstract level of self-disci-
plining of body in relation to normalising
discourses, but this regulation also takes place
within the context of a web of interpersonal
gazes. Self-discipline occurs not only in relation
to imaginary others, but embodied others who
praise, compliment, ridicule, tease, set rules,
and give advice about our appearance. We
construct our appearance with these ‘real’
others in mind.
Acknowledgements:
An earlier version of this paper was presented at
the Women and Psychology Conference, at
Birkbeck University, London in July 2002.
References
Bartky, S.L. (1990). Femininity and domination:
Studies in the phenomenology of oppression.
London: Routledge.
Bordo, S. (1993). Unbearable weight: Feminism,
Western c ulture, and the body. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
Espin, O. (l996). ‘Race’, racism and sexuality in
 Kate Gleeson & Hannah Frith

the life narratives of immigrant women. In

S. Wilkinson (Ed.), Feminist social psycholo-
gies. Buckingham: Open University Press.
Foucault, M. (1977/1999). Discipline and punish.
London: Penguin. Reprinted in J. Evans &
S. Hall (Eds.), Visual culture: The reader.
London: Sage.
Freitas, A., Kaiser, S. & Hammidi, T. (1996).
Communities, commodities, cultural space
and style. Journal of Homosexuality, 31(1/2),
83–107.
Gamman, L. & Marchment, M. (1988). The
female gaze. London: The Women’s Press.
Koskela, H. (1997). ‘Bold walk and breakings’:
Women’s spatial confidence versus fear of
violence. Gender, Plac e and Culture, 4(3),
301–319.
Mulvey, L. (1975/1999). Visual pleasure and
narrative cinema. Sc reen 16(3), 11–12.
Reprinted in J. Evans & S. Hall (Eds.),
Visual culture: The reader. London: Sage.
Tseëlon, E. (1995). The masque of
femininity. London: Sage.
Young, I.M. (1990). Throwing like a girl and
other essays in feminist philosophy and social
theory. Indianapolis: Indiana University
Press.

Correspondence
Hannah Frith
Psychology Department,
Centre for Appearance Research, University of
the West of England,
St Matthias Campus, Fishponds,
Bristol, BS16 2JP.
Tel: 0117 3444409
Fax: 0117 3444407
E-mail: hannah.frith@uwe.ac.uk

Ka te Gle e s o n is a Principal Lecturer in Social

Psychology and Qualitative Research Methods at the
University of the West of England. Her current
research interests focus on consumption and iden-
tity, and the role that access to economic, social
and cultural capital play in this process.
11

Rep/hairing the natural:
Black hair and identity
in post-apartheid
South Africa
Yvette Morey, University of the West of England,
Lindy Wilbraham, Medical Research Council of
South Africa & Hannah Frith, University of the
West of England.
Identities in the post-apartheid
moment
HIS PAPER STEMS from research concerned
T with exploring questions of identity in the
context of post-apartheid South Africa.
Bertelson (1998) refers to the destabilisation of
both black and white South African identities
after the events of 1990, including the unban-
ning of the African National Congress, the
release of Nelson Mandela and the coining of
the term ‘New South Africa’. De la Rey (1997)
maintains that previously ‘resistance and
struggle played a crucial role in the process of
black identity formation’ (p.22) and a
(contentious) line of thought situates the
current collapse of struggle identities alongside
the rise of new national and consumer identi-
ties. Consequently, the research underpinning
this paper sought to identity what, if any, new
discursive spaces and possibilities exist for
black identity construction in this context.
The necessary singling out of black partic-
ipants for discussion was fraught with anxieties
pertaining to the direct and indirect Othering
of subjectivities thus frequently effecting a
sense of reflexive paralysis (Burman, 1993).
12 However, while racial positioning constituted
the most obvious characteristic of researcher/
Papers
participant interaction – thus effectively
shaping the content of the texts – all research
contexts and interactions can be said to be
influenced by the operation of perceived differ-
ences. While some participants were
approached directly, other participants became
opportunistically involved due to snowballing
or ‘the friend-of-a-friend’ approach (cf. Kelly,
1999). Extracts in this paper are taken from
interviews conducted with two female
students, a younger male scholar, two male
hairdressers, and a group of older women
working at a community development centre.
Each of these settings provided a context for
the emergence of different discourses and
subject positionings stemming from the
researcher/participant interaction. For example,
access to a black hair salon in Grahamstown,
led to the production of texts shaped by a desire
to communicate expertise and knowledge
about black hair practice in the fourth inter-
view. This informed later questions regarding
salons and black hair practice in the focus
group, and the analysis of a hair care product.
All texts were analysed by means of a critical
discourse analytic approach (cf. Parker, 1992)
congruous with the social and political
construction of black hair and the slipperiness
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 12–16
ISSN: 1466–3724
 Yvette Morey, Lindy Wilbraham & Hannah Frith
of discourses surrounding it.
Black hair as part of the body
politic
The long history of struggle over the represen-
tation and meaning of black hair establishes it
firmly within the body politic. Mercer (1987)
claims that ‘black people’s hair has been histor-
ically devalued as the most visible stigmata of
blackness second only to skin’ (p.35). Informed
by Mercer’s (1987) influential article, Black
Hair/Style Politics (written from a specifically
Western, and American, context), Erasmus
(1999) maps the history of black hair as a signi-
fier in relation to the South African context.
Here she includes a reference to the notorious
apartheid pen and pencil test, which sought to
determine racial heritage by examining hair
colour, texture and length. A great deal of
debate around black hair as a signifier was
formalised in arguments concerning the
devaluing and recuperation of essentialised
black identities, and the construction of non-
essentialised black identities. Mercer (1987)
thus refers to a battle around the two logics of
black stylisation (‘natural’ vs. ‘created’ looks)
which became prevalent in 1960 when the
devaluation of ‘natural’ black hair was
subverted by the emergence of Black Pride and
Black Power groups and the adoption of the
afro, or ‘the natural’ as a sign of cultural resis-
tance. However, theorists such as Mercer are at
pains to undermine this dichotomy, attributing
a postmodern aesthetic to black hairstyling as a
non-essentialising practice. The arguments
presented here are underpinned by postmodern
and postructural conceptions of identity as
potentially hybrid, ambivalent and multiple.
Guided by both Mercer (1987) and Erasmus’s
(1999) contention that there is no such thing as
‘natural’ black hair – hairstyles are ‘never just
natural, waiting to be found: they are stylisti-
cally cultivated and politically constructed’
(Mercer, 1987, p.40), this paper provides an
overview of some of the ways in which black
South Africans are talking about, and wearing,
their hair in the post-apartheid moment.
‘Good’ hair/’natural’ hair
Erasmus (1999) points to the setting-up of a
discursive binary whereby ‘good’ black hair =
‘done’ hair, and, ‘natural’ black hair =
undone/resistant hair. Hence, she states
The notion of good hair is not unique to
black communities in South Africa, but until
recently ‘good hair’ on a black body generally
means hair that is either long, flowing, straight
and looks like white people’s hair, or at least
not too curly. Bad hair is short and kinky and
has to be ‘made’ good (p.3)
This discursive binary can be identified in
the following two extracts:
1. It’s natural to us because we are black, with
our natural hair, because if you are black you
must do a setting so that you can have curls
[Focus group, four women, community
workers].
2. They’re not beautiful because they need to be
done. I need to go to the perm, or do anything like
relaxing them …[Focus group, four women,
community workers].
The first extract essentialises black hair,
locating it as something specifically ‘natural’ to
black bodies. Ironically, this ‘natural’ black hair
needs to be set, permed or relaxed, in short
‘done’, in order to be considered good or beau-
tiful. The setting and ‘doing’ of hair involves a
complicated set of practices whereby hair that
is considered too curly/kinky is first straight-
ened or relaxed before being permed to produce
curls that are fixed, defined and manageable.
The checking of hair texture can be identified
as a discursive and
regulative feature governing the maintenance
of ‘natural’ black hair. A further regulative
feature that may be identified in this regard
concerns hair length. Consider the following
extract:
3. Men should have short hair or dreads …men
who are more daring will approve of women
with shaved heads but mostly men like women
with neat, good-looking hair like braids …
dreads on women aren’t nice [Informal hair-
dresser/student, female]. 13
Synnott (1993) refers to a theory of opposites
 Rep/hairing the natural
in which ‘current symbolic practice is charac-
terised by the proposition ‘opposite sexes have
opposite hair’ (p.4). However, the adoption of
hair styles and lengths outside of gender norma-
tive boundaries in the extract above is regulated
by the inverse operation of hair length and
texture. Thus, while it is acceptable for women to
have short hair by virtue of the neatness of the
style, the wearing of dreadlocks by women
remains unacceptable. Braiding and plaiting
function in the same way as perming here – the
intertwining and tight plaiting of hair that is too
curly renders it long, flowing and manageable.
However, the gender normative length consti-
tuted by wearing dreadlocks is deemed inappro-
priate for women because the style is achieved
through the consolidation – hair is allowed to
mat together – rather than the checking of hair
texture. These regulative discourses around the
texture and length of ‘black’ hair are well articu-
lated in both political debate and academic
discussions of the essentialising and non-essen-
tialising of black identity. By talking about
‘natural’ black hair as inherently problematic
these women essentialise black identity, and
reproduce beauty practices as normative,
inevitable and appropriate.
Different ways of talking about
black hair: shaved hair
While participants talked about and identified
other hair practices (such as hair weaves and
hair dyeing), that problematise the regulative
features of length and texture in relation to
‘natural’ hair, for the purposes of this paper I
would like to consider some of the ways in
which participants talked about their hair in
the absence of these features. The following
extracts stem from an interview with the same
participant in which she is discussing the
shaving of her hair:
4. Before it was relaxed, and then I shaved it off
’cos I can’t spend all that time washing and
relaxing it, I can’t spend all that time waking up
and combing it and tidying it, it’s just too much of
14 my time …I’m lazy that’s all, I’m a very lazy
person [Student, female].
5. And I think oh, I look so beautiful with no hair
on so …you know, it gives me a bit of self-confi-
dence so …ya, I look stunning with no hair on, I
do, I don’t know why I always look at myself for
hours and think I look good [Student, female].
6. I’ve just got this weight complex ya, I’d like to
lose weight so you know, that’s why I shaved it
off because it gives me a bit of confidence
[Student, female].
7. I know this girl who’s a lesbian and she was
convinced that everybody who shaved their hair
off was a lesbian and actually all the black
girls who have no hair are all lesbians, or
maybe one or two …but the rest are lesbian
[Student, female].
Resistance to the regulative features of
texture and length, can be identified in the talk
about the absence of hair in extracts 4 to 7 above.
In extract 4 this takes the form of opting of out
the labour and production of managing relaxed
hair, which also entails opting out of the
long/short gender normative dynamic. Thus, in
extract 5 (in contrast to the previous section) hair
identified as beautiful and good is achieved
without having to get it ‘done’. My analytic iden-
tification of opting out as a form of resistance and
the participant’s languaging of this in terms of
laziness or increased self-confidence points to
tensions and expectations surrounding black hair
(and black identity) as a vastly loaded signifier in
the post-apartheid context. The enabling of
agency in the midst of regulative discourses can
be seen in relation to the construction and
claiming of shaved hair aesthetically through a
self-affirming and self-positioning gaze (5).
Although this suggests the Foucauldian notion
of disciplinary and regulative ‘technologies of the
self’, we must remember that technologies of the
self are not situated outside of the discourses that
position us as subjects but involve the ‘practices
of self-formation of the subject’ within these
discourses (Fornet-Betancourt, Becker & Gomez-
Muller, 1994, p.2). This agentic process can
further be seen in extract 6 where shaved hair
functions as a form of embodiment which medi-
ates anxieties concerning visibility around
another aspect of the participant’s embodiment
 Yvette Morey, Lindy Wilbraham & Hannah Frith
which she refers to as her ‘weight complex’. A
more direct engagement with identity and
subjectivity can be seen in the final extract (7)
where length reappears – this time in the absence
thereof – as a regulative feature in the essen-
tialised positioning of lesbian subjectivity char-
acterised by the adoption of stereotyped
gender-opposite traits (i.e. very short hair, or no
hair, signals masculinity). Thus the positioning
of black hair as a ‘raced’, gendered and sexualised
object stemming from the discussion of the
extracts above, supports the argument that
shaved hair cannot be regarded as free from regu-
lative discourses even though there might be
different ways of talking about and within these
discourses.
Concluding points and
questions
The brief exploration of some of the ways in
which black hair is constructed in the extracts
above thus reveals that talk around black hair
can be essentialising, conventional and conser-
vative, and yet within this, that the possibility
for resistance and agency do exist. In a racist
context in which the appearance of black bodies
has been marked and problematised as ugly,
women’s talk about ‘natural’ black hair as
something which has to be tamed and ‘done’ in
order to be beautiful sits uncomfortably with
attempts to recast black ‘looks’ positively.
While some participants draw on discourses
which are familiar to use as disciplinary and
regulatory, ‘race’ is no longer the only salient
discourse in talk around hair – in this paper
we’ve pointed to gender and sexuality, however
this research also addresses discourses situating
class and national identities. With regard to
the latter, there is an enormous pressure (not
least in academia) for the voicing of ‘positive’
black voices within a not-so-new South Africa.
However, I argue that instead of this liberatory
(and often unproductive) ideal, multiple forms
of subjectivity are being dialogued in the
opening up and expansion of discourses that
position black identities. Arguably, the texts
analysed here reinforce De la Rey’s (in
Magubane, 1997, p.19) claim that ‘Since 1994
a kind of space has opened up in South African
politics where we have started talking about
identity politics in ways that I don’t think we
talked about in the pre ’94 years’. There is no
such thing as ‘natural’ black hair as an
authentic embodiment of ‘race’, black hair, and
by implication black subjectivity, are also
always positioned as classed, gendered, sexu-
alised, etc., and it is these positionings that
provide room to move.
References
Bertelson, E. (1998). Ads and Amnesia: Black
advertising in the New South Africa. In S.
Nuttall & C. Coetzee (Eds.), Negotiating the
past: The making of memory in South Africa. Cape
Town: Oxford University Press.
Burman, E. & Parker, I. (Eds.) (1993). Discourse
analytic research: repertoires and readings of
texts in action. London: Routledge.
de la Rey, C. (1997). On political activism and
discourse analysis in South Africa.
In A. Levett, A. Kottler, E. Burman & I.
Parker (Eds.), Culture, power and difference:
Discourse analysis in South Africa. Cape Town:
University of Cape Town Press.
Erasmus, Z. (1999). Undoing the loc ks.
Unpublished paper, University of Cape
Town.
Fornet-Betancourt, R., Becker, H. & Gomez-
Muller, A. (1994). The ethic of care
for self as a practice of freedom.
In J. Bernauer & D. Rasmussen (Eds.), The
Final Foucault. London: MIT Press.
Kelly, K. (1999). From encounter to text:
Collecting qualitative data for interpretive
research. In M.J. Terre Blanche &
K. Durrheim (Eds.), Research in practice:
Applied methods for the social sciences. Cape
Town: University of Cape Town Press.
Magubane, Z. (1997). Beyond the masks.
Agenda, 32, 17–22.
Mercer, K. (1987). Black Hair/Style Politics. In
K. Gelder & S. Thornton (Eds.),
The subcultures reader. London: Routledge. 15
Morey, Y. (2001). Counter-Hairgemonies: Hair
 Rep/hairing the natural

as a site of black identity struggle in post-

apartheid South Africa. Unpublished
Master’s Thesis, Rhodes University,
Grahamstown, South Africa.
Parker, I. (1992). Discourse dynamics: Critical
analysis for social and individual psychology.
London: Routledge.
Synnott, A. (1993). The body social: Symbolism,
self and society. London: Routledge.

Correspondence
Hannah Frith
Psychology Department, Centre for
Appearance Research, University of the West
of England, St Matthias Campus, Fishponds,
Bristol, BS16 2JP.
Tel: 0117 3444409
Fax: 0117 3444407
E-mail: hannah.frith@uwe.ac.uk

Yve tte Mo re y is a postgraduate student at the

University of the West of England whose research
explores the intersections of appearance, space and
discourses of youth in the construction and
negotiation of young people’s embodied identities.

Lind y Wilb ra h a m has a background in

Critical Social Psychology and is currently involved
in the Health Systems Programme at the Medical
Research Council of South Africa. This programme
aims to improve the effectiveness of health care in
South Africa through the development of different
research methodologies.

16

Standing apart – sizing
up social identity
Rosanne Levene & Kate Gleeson, University of
the West of England
ITHIN PSYCHOLOGY WOMEN are defined
W by their bodies (Young, 1990), and
women’s bodies have been consistently and
continually problematised, objectified and
pathologised (Griffin, 1996). In theorising
identity, psychology conceptualises the body as
a means to categorise individuals, rather than
as integral to identity. Little importance is
placed on the meaning of the body to individ-
uals, to the experience of living in and with a
body, or to bodies as the means by which iden-
tities are realised and performed. Psychologists
pay little attention to embodiment, that is, to
the individual’s interactions with their body
and through their body with the world around
them (Davis, 1997).
One illustration of this, is psychology’s
treatment women of size who are defined by
bodies that are regarded as inherently patho-
logical in that they do not conform to social
norms or fit within the culturally agreed
physical boundaries (Entwistle, 2000).
Psychological research focuses on the detri-
mental effects of being large, and on the
management and treatment of obesity (Stewart,
1987; Gordon, 1999; Storlie & Jordan, 1984).
While some attempts have been made to chal-
lenge the pathologisation of anorexia nervosa
(c.f. Bordo, 1993; Malson, 1998) no equivalent
discourse exists in relation to women of size.
Although discourses about Fat Acceptance
exist in culture, within psychology the assump-
tion remains that being fat is psychologically
and physically damaging (Erdman, 1994).
Within such treatments women are typically
envisaged as passive inhabitors of the flesh and
Papers
indeed as passive recipients of cultural norms
and values. Even in the moment in which
women of size are stigmatised and victimised as
‘other’ their status is regarded as fixed and
inevitable rather than linked to choice and
agency.
Leder (1990) used the term ‘dysappearing’
to refer to the body’s loss of taken-for-granted-
ness during illness. ‘[T]he body’s appearance to
consciousness results from the dysfunction
caused by illness; thus the body ‘dysappears’
(Stam, 1998, p.210). The bodies of fat women
may dysappear in this sense (even though they
are not ill) simply because our embodied expe-
riences are culturally derived and prevent us
from experiencing our bodies as inevitable and
natural. ‘[W]e feel as though we must have our
attention directed upon our bodies to make sure
they are doing what we wish them to do, rather
than paying attention to what we want to do
through our bodies’ (Young, 1990, p.174).
Smith (1998) suggests that women actively
engage with their bodies, regarding them as an
object to be worked on, as a means for ‘doing
femininity’. The body need not be regarded as
an ‘object in the world’ rather it is implicated in
our everyday perception and practices – forming
our ‘point of view on the world’ (Merleau-
Ponty, 1976, p.5) being both an object which
we see and the means by which we see it.
Psychology needs to ‘look again at what it
means to be embodied in a social world, and
indeed what it means to be social in an
embodied world’ (Radley, 1998).
This paper draws on in-depth one-to-one 17
interviews with ten women of size about their
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 17–22
ISSN: 1466–3724
 Standing apart – sizing up social identity
experience of embodiment, identity and
engagement in their social world. An
Interpretative Phenomeno-logical Analysis
(Smith, 1996) focused on the meanings that
participants ascribed to events (Golsworthy &
Coyle, 2001) and to individual accounts of
their perception of their embodied identity.
Nine themes emerged in the analysis which
addressed three broad areas – the interplay
between body size and identity; the role of
others in the experience of the embodied self;
and the use of clothing to negotiate body
display and to relate identity. This paper will
focus on the first set of themes around the
interplay between body size and identity which
all incorporated the notion that others impose
and assume identity on the basis of size.
Body size is important to
identity only because it is
important to others
Many participants denied that body size plays
an overarching role in their identity, citing a
range of equally relevant roles, activities and
values as contributing to identity. However,
many did assert that size plays a crucial role in
how others read their identity.*
Im o g e n: Like, I can think of plenty of cate-
gories that I would include myself in.
I don’t know, like y’know, being a student,
being a feminist, whatever that means these
days, being in a couple, potentially being a
teacher, stuff like that, all those kinds of
things. And I would say that they are really
important things that make up me.
(Ro s a nne : Yeah) But … if you’re asking
whether being a fat person, belonging to that
group or grouping, no I don’t see it in that way,
but then does anyone? Maybe I should be, fat
pride and all that. I don’t know, and yet other
people treat me as a fat person, so I guess I am
to them, to them I’m sure. I have no doubt that
I’m easily dismissed, banished into that
pigeon-hole. (Lines 84–92.)
Imogen doesn’t embrace her fatness in her
18
identity, although she is aware that this is an
option. She could claim her size, and construct
a fat and proud identity. It is, however, others
that insist on the importance of her size in
defining who she is. In a similar way, Cathy
experiences her body as a physical barrier which
prevents other people seeing alternative aspects
of identity that she is actively trying to project.
Ca th y: I don’t like the fact that my physi-
cality has an impact on my mental being or the
way others perceive me or anything like that,
basically. I mean when people meet me they see
my body or they see the way I look or what
have you and umm, it takes a long time for
people to get to know me. (Lines 7–10.) It’s
kind of, the way it’s linked to my identity, is
afflicted on me by other people. (Line 128.)
Both Cathy and Imogen claim that people
talk to their body rather than to them.
Although they prefer to be defined and recog-
nised on different terms, both experience being
positioned by others in terms of size and talk
about having size afflicted upon them and
about being banished to a pigeonhole. Fatness
is an over-determined and stigmatised marker
of difference for those who view, rather than
inhabit, the fat body.
If I changed size it would affect
how I see myself
Some participants reflected on the role which
size plays in identity in terms of what it would
mean for them to change size. Size was consid-
ered to play a part in identity because if the fat
disappeared this would mean a fundamental
change in who they are.
Alis o n: I mean it is part of my identity, if
I was a different shape and size I would have to
rethink how I present myself,
I think it would make a difference to who I am.
(Lines 119–120.)
Gina : I think if I looked very different then I
might come across different, so it might, I
don’t know, [laughs] it’s difficult to say exactly
how it’s affecting you now but I could, I could

see that if I was [to change] in either direction,
that that could have an effect. (Lines 60–62.)
This focus on the effect of changing size is
again discussed in relation to their reception by
others. Alison talks in terms of how she would
present herself to an audience while Gina talks
about how she might ‘come across’ to others.
My body size plays no part in
my identity
Three participants claimed that body size is not
fundamental to identity, and yet their reasons
for drawing this conclusion were very different.
For Beverly, weight is not important to iden-
tity, but other aspects of the body which are
perceived as problematic are regarded as impor-
tant.
Ro s a nne : If you think about all the parts
that make up you, would your body image be
one of those things?
Be ve rly: The weight or the actual image?
Ro s a nne : Well, both.
Be ve rly: The weight, possibly not. There are
I suppose other things about my body that I
would get rid of and are, are really more of an
issue [Ro s a n n e : Yeah] and … that’s
wrapped up in the whole identity side of things
as well I suppose. (Lines 84–86.)
In distinguishing between body size and
other parts of the body which have fallen into
disfavour Beverly demonstrates that while
bodies may be important weight isn’t always
the overriding concern. In contrast, for Helen,
body size plays no part in identity because she
feels disconnected from her body, living as if it
had no importance and responding only to the
needs and demands of the ‘head’.
He le n: Umm, because I, because I view my
overweight as being a very negative thing then
if I’m umm I’m maybe almost separating
myself out from me [Rosanne: Right] whereas if
I viewed my over weight as more of a positive
thing then I probably would incorporate it into
my identity a lot more [Ro s a nne : I see] it
would be less problematic. (Lines 54–57.)
Helen talks as if she is making an active
choice not to integrate her body into her iden-
Rosanne Levene & Kate Gleeson
tity – suggesting that she regards identity as an
activity which one can engage in to deliberately
construct a positive self. However, Helen also
talks about how self-conscious and aware of her
size she is when she is around others.
Jessica, on the other hand, does not regard
body size as crucial to identity because
although it may have concerned her in the past
she doesn’t now think about how others
perceive her.
Ro s a nne : So you don’t feel your physical
appearance contributes to how you see yourself?
J e s s ic a : No. No. I think there are a lot of
other things much higher up the list. (Lines
97–98.) I think … I cared a lot more then …
about … I don’t know. I think because its so
my size is so tied up in that as well, how I feel
about my body, my identity, is so tied up in
that kind of phase, umm I know that I was very
conscious of how people perceive me then.
(Lines 141–144.)
Jessica talks about making a conscious
decision to reject the feedback from others or at
least her perception of their judgement and
censure. In a similar way Helen makes a
conscious decision not to incorporate her body
into her identity because she regards it as a
source of negativity. This active decision to
reject the feedback of others is also reflected in
the accounts offered by other participants.
Em m a : I think once I let go of … that I
didn’t need to be accepted by anyone else and I
had to like myself, that’s when my, and when I
started to say its their problem not mine, if
anyone would have a comment I look at them
and say ‘where’s that coming from about
them?’ It still affects me, but I think I don’t
buy into it as I did before. (Lines 47–50.)
Conclusion
While not all participants agreed that body size
played a crucial part in identity, all agreed that
others assume and impose identities on the
basis of body size. Therefore identity may be
both embodied as an experience and embodied
as a text of identity to be read by others. The 19
notion that others assume that identity is
 Standing apart – sizing up social identity
embodied resonates with Toombs’ (1993)
writing about the identities of people with
physical disabilities where others identify the
disabled body very closely with the self. For
many women, dealing with this emphasis on
the stigmatised body requires an accommoda-
tion involving either a rejection of the
disfavoured body or the splitting of body and
self to enable a self that is separate from the
body. Women actively work at identity in order
to achieve this, and actively work to reject the
importance placed on size by others, conse-
quently ‘looking inside’ for self-validation. The
body thus becoming integral to the social self,
while a core inner self may be more private and
protected from censure.
According to Entwistle (2000, p.324),
‘bodies that do not conform, bodies that flout
the conventions of their culture and go without
the appropriate clothes are subversive of the
most basic social codes, and risk exclusion,
scorn or ridicule.’
The women involved in this study experienced
social interaction with others and feedback
about identity within bodies that were scorned.
These interactions and social sanctions were
thus embodied. This is not to say that the feed-
back was passively received and inevitably
incorporated into identity. Many of the women
explicitly talked about resisting and fighting
the cultural norm which assumes the superi-
ority and desirability of the thin body:
Alis o n: Being able to take up those spaces
and do little things to challenge peoples
perceptions of what a normal person should be.
I can feel quite proud of that and it means
there’s a space for other women to do that too.
And I quite like that. (Lines 97–99.)
However, all acknowledged that it was
difficult to resist internalising the stigma of
size. While body size is relatively fixed, the
negotiation of a positive self-identity is not
about shifting judgments about how big we
are, but shifting our beliefs about the impor-
tance of size in who we are, and the value we
20 place upon fitting within acceptable social
boundaries for our bodies.
Therefore, the experiences of the women we
interviewed supports Merleau-Ponty’s notion
of embodied identity in that their body size,
affects both their perception of the world and
the world’s perception of them. The women of
size in this study did experience their bodies as
stigmatised and troubling if not literally
pathologised, but they are more active in their
embodied engagement in the world than
Merleau-Ponty would give them credit for. He
over-looked the work that fat people do to
negotiate their experience with their bodies
and other people’s reaction to it. Furthermore,
as Leder (1990) suggested, the bodies of fat
women may ‘dysappear’ in that we cannot take
them for granted and live through them as
vehicles for experience. We are made aware of
the failure of our bodies to fit within acceptable
boundaries, and this for many enmeshes with
how we live in the world; how we regard
ourselves in the world; who we can be in the
world; as well as how the world regards us and
what it tells us about who we are allowed to be
as fat women.
Acknowledgement
An earlier version of this paper was presented at
the Women and Psychology Conference at
Birkbeck University, London, in July 2002.
References
Bordo, S. (1993). Unbearable weight: Western
culture and the body. London: Cassell.
Davis, K. (1997). Embodied practices: Feminist
perspectives on the body. London: Sage.
Entwistle, J. (2000). Fashion and the fleshy
body: Dress as embodied practice. Fashion
Theory, 4(3), 323–348.
Erdman, C.K. (1994). Nothing to lose:
A naturalistic study of size acceptance in fat
women. In K.A. Callaghan (Ed.), Ideals of
feminine beauty: Philo-
sophic al, soc ial and c ultural dimensions.
London: Greenwood.
Golsworthy, R. & Coyle, A. (2001).
Practitioners’ accounts of religious and
spiritual dimensions in bereavement
 Rosanne Levene & Kate Gleeson

therapy. Counselling Psyc hology Quarterly, theory. Indianapolis: Indiana University

14(3), 183–202. Press.
Gordon, M. (1999). Managing obesity. Aukland:
Adis International.
Griffin, C. (1996). See whose face it wears:
Difference, otherness and power. Correspondence
In S. Wilkinson & C. Kitzinger (Eds.), Hannah Frith
Representing the other: A feminism and Psychology Department, Centre for
psychology reader. London: Sage. Appearance Research, University of the West
of England, St Matthias Campus, Fishponds,
Bristol, BS16 2JP.
Leder, D. (1990). The absent body. Chicago, IL: Tel: 0117 3444409
University of Chicago Press. Fax: 0117 3444407
Malson, H. (1998). The thin woman: Feminism, post- E-mail: hannah.frith@uwe.ac.uk
structuralism and the psychology of anorexia
nervosa. Routledge: London. Ro s e a nne Le ve ne is an undergraduate
Merleau-Ponty, M. (1976). The primacy of percep- student at the University of the West of England
tion. Evanston, IL: Northwestern whose dissertation explored the experiences and
University Press. identities of women
Radley, A. (1998). Displays and fragments: of size.
Embodiment and the configuration of
social worlds. In H.J. Stam (Ed.), The body
and psychology. London: Sage.
Smith, J.A. (1996). Beyond the divide between
cognition and discourse: Using
Interpretative Phenomeno-logical Analysis
in health psychology. Psychology and Health,
11, 261–271.
Smith, J.A. (1998). Towards a relational self:
Social engagement during pregnancy and
psychological preparation for motherhood.
British Journal of Soc ial Psyc hology, 38,
409–426.
Stam, H.J. (1998). The body and psychology.
London: Sage.
Stewart, A.W. (1987). Eating disorders:
Management of obesity, bulimia and anorexia
nervosa. London: Pergamon Press.
Storlie, J. & Jordan, H.A. (1984). Nutrition and
exercise in obesity management. London: Life
Enhancement Publica-tions.
Toombs, S.K. (1993). The meaning of illness: A
phenomenologic al account of the different
perspec tives of physic ian and patient.
Bloomington, Indiana University Press.
Young, I.M. (1990). Throwing like a girl and 21
other essays in feminist philosophy and social
 Standing apart – sizing up social identity

BPS ANNUAL CONFERENCE

2004
The next BPS Annual Conference will be held at Imperial College,
London, from 15–17 April 2004. Invited speakers have been asked to
present material relating to the themes of the event which are: Positive
Psychology – Prof. Barbara Fredrickson, University of Michigan and Dr
Felicia Huppert, University of Cambridge; Creativity and Innovation –
Prof. Margaret Boden, University of Sussex and Prof. Steve Smith, Texas
A & M University; Perception – Prof. Nikos Logothetis, Max Planck
Institute for Biological Cybernetics and Prof. Tom Troscianko,
University of Bristol.
For further information regarding the Conference please contact the
Conference Office on 0116 252 9555 or visit the Society’s website at
22 www.bps.org.uk.

Youth, beauty and pride:
Privileging young bodies
Hannah Frith & Kate Gleeson, University of the
West of England
SYCHOLOGISTS HAVE OFTEN presented
P young women as inherently troubled and
troubling (cf. Griffin, 1993). Psychological
discourse is dominated both by the idea that
young women’s bodies are excessive and trou-
bling (particularly in relation to sexuality), and
by the idea that young women's bodies are trou-
bled (especially in relation to dieting, bingeing
and self-starvation). While we do not dispute
the notion that cultural discourses around
youth, sexuality, femininity, and attractiveness
contribute to a ‘girl-poisoning’ culture (cf.
Pipher, 1994) in which girls’ relationships with
their bodies are problematic, we argue that this
is not the only kind of relationship girls can
have with their bodies. The focus on the patho-
logical and the problematic has meant that
little attention has been paid to the experience
of inhabiting and laying claim to bodies that
are privileged.
Set in the context of the idealisation of
young, white, thin, able and unblemished
bodies in western culture, the women we inter-
viewed were privileged in the sense that they
inhabit (to a greater or lesser extent) a valued
position in relation to this ideal. We concen-
trate here on the ways in which they positioned
themselves as young, and the benefits they
accrued from this. In a pervasively ageist
society, older women are marginalised,
excluded and made invisible while youth is
socially valued and idealised (Macdonald &
1
The elements from our data that we present here do not reflect a single, comprehensive analysis of these sets
of data. We draw on the same data set to explore different aspects of embodiment in the first paper on
‘Getting noticed and noticing the gaze’.
Papers
Rich, 1985). While old age is associated with
incompetence, misery, unattractiveness, asexu-
ality and ill health, youthful bodies are associ-
ated with competence, attractiveness, vitality,
sexuality, and good health. In a society in
which attractiveness is synonymous with youth
(Sontag, 1972), we explore what it means to
inhabit (at least temporarily) young bodies, and
the ways in which these experiences are shaped
by, and reinforce, ageism.
To examine these ideas we draw upon data
from one-to-one semi-structured interviews
with 28 young, white women aged 11 to 18
which were analysed thematically (Hayes,
2000). The young women were a volunteer
sample recruited from three different schools
within a large city in the South West of
England1. All interviews were conducted
during school time, on school premises, in a
private room. The interviews focused on
clothing, fashion and shopping, but talk about
clothing necessitates talk about the body.
Clothing and the body are intricately linked
since as Entwistle (2001, p.33) points out:
‘Conventions of dress transform the flesh into
something recognisable and meaningful to a
culture and are also the means by which bodies
are made ‘decent’, appropriate and acceptable
within specific contexts’. In other words, the
body takes on meaning partly by the way in
which it is dressed and displayed to others.
Therefore, although we did not explicitly ask
23
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 23–27
ISSN: 1466–3724
 Youth, beauty and pride
about embodied experiences it was through
talking about clothes, and discussions about
inappropriate and appropriate displays of the
body through clothing, that we began to build
up a picture of these young women’s embodied
experience.
Although the young women we spoke to
may have disliked some aspects of their bodies
this did not feature largely in the interviews.
Instead, they saw their youthful bodies as
attractive bodies which could (and should) be
displayed through tight-fitting and revealing
clothing. They described their favourite items
of clothing as tight-fitting tops, little or short
tops, short skirts and garments with slits in.
These are clothes that reveal and display the
body. Indeed, it is the very fact that that these
clothes allow young women the opportunity to
display their bodies that explains why they are
so popular. In the following extract HF is
asking Lizzy why she prefers tight, little vest
tops with thin straps (Lizzy’s description)2:
HF: Why particularly those kinds of tops rather
than shirts, or t-shirts, or jumpers?
Liz z y: Like when you’re younger you’re more likely
to show off your body but when you’re older you
cover up.
HF: So when you are looking for clothes, are you
looking for clothes that are going to show off your
body?
Liz z y: Well, most of the time.
HF: (Laughs) Are there, ’erm, any things that you try
and hide with clothes?
Liz z y: Mmm not really.
In our interviews, there were modest but
very clear expressions of pleasure and pride in
displaying the body – in showing it off. These
young women revel in the attention that they
receive from boys when they dress in stereotyp-
ically feminine ways and reveal their bodies
through slits, slashes, short skirts, and low-cut
tops. As Jane says, ‘All the boys seem to like
you when you wear girly clothes’. Wearing
these kinds of clothing makes young women
recognisable as adult women, as sexualised and
24
2
Pseudonyms have been used to protect the anonymity of participants.
‘sexy’, and as the objects of the male gaze:
Lis a : Mostly, everyone’ll notice you when you’re
wearing hipsters and boots and that, they notices you
like, but not notices your clothes, they don’t care if
you’re wearing joggers. But when you’re wearing
your boots and all that they tries chatting you up.
For young women who are attempting to
negotiate an identity as adult and as
(hetero)sexually attractive, being able to attract
the ‘looks’ of boys, to be noticed, and to be
seen, is to have one’s identity affirmed and one’s
body valued. Bourdieu’s (1977, 1986) econo-
mist metaphor of ‘capital’ as a set of resources
which enable access to, and arise out of,
different subject positions and social locations
is useful here. Capital is a useful way of
thinking about the resources that people
acquire and have which have differential
amounts of cultural value. Corporeal capital are
the resources that we accrue from our embodied
state, and youthful bodies have corporeal
capital because they are socially valued in rela-
tion to older bodies. But, in order to be effec-
tive, Bourdieu argues that corporeal capital has
to be utilised, deployed and capitalised upon.
In other words, it is not enough simply to
possess a young body, it has to be displayed as
attractive and be recognised as such in order to
be useful. Consequently, the social value of any
embodied state is never fixed and absolute, but
can be negotiated. For example, in the
following extract Carol talks about how she
plays off different aspects of her appearance in
order to lay claim to a recognisably attractive
body:
KG: …Do you think the clothes you wear tell people
something about the kind of person you are?
Ca ro l: Not really ’cos in half the clothes I wear I
feel like a tart, like short tops, short skirts and stuff
on holidays and stuff like that. But I think it’s helped
boost my self confidence ’cos I’m not really like self
confident, I’m not because, like, my glasses and every-
thing, people say something like four eyes and stuff,
and that helped me like think more of myself.
Carol sees her ability to claim an attractive

appearance for herself as undermined by the
fact that she wears glasses (something which
has been a focus for teasing from peers), but by
wearing revealing clothing she can lay claim to
a different kind of (sexualised) attractiveness.
By presenting her body in a different way she
considers herself to have more access to confi-
dence and social power. Bodies, then, are not
just shells that we passively inhabit, but are
resources that we deploy, manipulate, make
visible and recognisable.
One of the ways in which these young
women construct their bodies as attractive is by
positioning attractiveness, and access to the
mechanisms through which the body is
displayed as attractive, as the prerogative of
younger women. According to our partici-
pants, ‘showing off’ the body is something that
only younger women can do, and which is
available to them for only a short period of
time:
HF: … do you see a differenc e between ’erm
children’s clothes, like teenage clothes and adult
clothes?
Ma rc ie : Yeah, sometimes adults wear more (pause)
oh I don’t know, like (laughs) sometimes teenagers
can be a bit more outgoing than like really older
people.
HF: By outgoing what sorts of things do you mean?
Ma rc ie : Well, they might show a bit more.
HF: So, it’s all about having clothes that are very
… criticised by Nicola for trying to ‘recapture
Ma rc ie : Yes.
HF: Tiny (laughs) tiny tops and tiny skirts.
Ma rc ie : But like someone old might …older might
want to wear that they might not think the same way
about showing the same amount.
While young women are permitted be
‘outgoing’ and to use clothing to ‘show a bit
more’ of their bodies, this is not appropriate for
older women. Older women, by contrast, must
cover up. Fairhurst (1998) describes how the
phrase ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ (i.e. older,
tougher meat disguised as younger, tender
meat) is often used to describe older women
who try to look younger. This phrase appeared
repeatedly in our own interviews:
Hannah Frith & Kate Gleeson
Em ily: If they’re still trying to be different, it
looks good, and it all fits and everything (then it’s OK
for older people to wear revealing clothes), they’re
respectable, they’re not mutton dressed as lamb or
anything (laughs).
KG: What does that mean though, you said ‘mutton
dressed as lamb’, what kinds of things would that be
like?
Em ily: Like when they’ve had their time and got a
bit older and you’re just trying to, I don’t know, they
don’t want to leave the past behind them – like how
they used to dress.
KG: What can you where when you’re younger that
you can’t wear when you’re older?
Em ily: Really short skirts, tops with boobs every-
where.
KG: OK, so things that are very revealing of the
body is that the kind of thing you’re thinking of?
Em ily: Yeah, I still think you can dress differently,
or how you want to but in a respectable way
(laughs).
Older women are presented as
inappropriately trying to cling on to corporeal
capital in the form of youthful, attractive
bodies that they no longer possess. While
ageism encourages many adults to try as ‘pass’
as members of a younger age group with
greater social power and privilege (Gerike,
1990), these boundaries are tightly policed by
young people themselves. Older women are
their youth, or trying to make people think
that they are younger than they are by dressing
up like a kid, like a teenager’.
As Macdonald and Rich (1985) point out,
ageism is not just about the elderly, but is
something which underpins the evaluation of
people at any age – for example, one of our
participants claimed that at age 30 women
were too old to wear a mini skirt. Mechanisms
for displaying the body as sexually attractive
are depicted as unattainable for older women,
and when these mechanisms (such as revealing
clothing) are used they are presented as inap-
propriately sexual and disparaged (‘boobs 25
everywhere’).
 Youth, beauty and pride
Our data, then, suggests that young
women revel in the experience of revealing
their body and experience pleasure in being
seen as desirable. Although these women can
be criticised for buying into patriarchal stan-
dards of beauty, they may experience achieving
these standards as pleasurable and powerful. A
useful way of trying to understand the source of
this power and pleasure is provided by
Elizabeth Heilman. Talking about the appeal of
dieting to young American women, Heilman
(1998) argues that there are two forms of
control and power that dieting has to offer
young women. Firstly, the power that comes
from meeting
individual challenges (such as not eating for a
day) designed to ensure that the body approxi-
mates a cultural norm of beauty; and secondly,
the power that comes from receiving approval
purely as an object, as a thing that looks good
or appropriate. The aesthetic scaling of women
(cf. Young, 1990), in which women’s bodies are
evaluated as more or less ‘valuable’ according to
their appearance, means that some women, at
some times, may feel that their appearance is
socially validated as recognisably attractive. For
one brief but glorious moment of power some
young women have corporeal capital in that
they temporarily have the kinds of bodies that
are valued and considered ripe for display.
However, the pleasure, for them, of wearing
tight clothes which cling to and reveal their
body, which marks them as sexual and desirable,
is not equally available to all women.
Appearance is one of the means by which
women classify, judge and evaluate each other,
and place themselves in relation to one another
(cf. Skeggs, 1997). When women lay claim to
an attractive appearance on the basis of stan-
dards of beauty which are male-defined and
exclusionary, they do so at the expense of other
women who are not in a position to do so and
they re-articulate and embody these norms. In
the context of widespread body hatred amongst
young women (see Frost, 2001), it is refreshing
26 to hear young women feeling pleased with, and
proud of their bodies. But, this is soured when
this pride is based on the social devaluation of
other women, and reinforces ageist assumptions
about the beauty of youth and the ugliness of
old age.
Acknowledgements
An earlier version of this paper was presented at
the Women and Psychology Conference, at
Birkbeck University, London in July 2002.
References
Bourdieu, P. (1977). Outline of a theory of prac-
tic e. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Bourdieu, P. (1986). Distinction: A social critique
of the judgement of taste. London: Routledge.
Entwistle, J. (2001). The dressed body.
In J. Entwistle & E. Wilson (Eds.),
Body dressing. Oxford: Berg.
Fairhurst, E. (1998). ‘Growing old gracefully’
as opposed to ‘mutton dressed as lamb’:
The social construction of recognising older
women. In S. Nettleton &
J. Watson (Eds.), The body in everyday life.
London: Routledge.
Frost, L. (2001). Young women and the body: Afemi-
nist sociology. Basing-stoke: Palgrave.
Gerike, A.E. (1990). On grey hair and
oppressed brains. In E.R. Rosenthal (Ed.),
Women, ageing and ageism.
New York: Harrington Park Press.
Griffin, C. (1993). Representations of youth: The
study of youth and adolescence in Britain and
American. Cambridge: Polity Press.
Hayes, N. (2000). Doing psychological research.
Buckingham: Open University Press.
Heilman, E. (1998). The struggle for self and
identity in adolescent girls.
Youth and Society, 30(2), 182–208.
Macdonald, B. & Rich, C. (1985). Look me in the
eye: Old women, ageing and ageism. London:
The Women’s Press.
Pipher, M. (1994). Reviving Ophelia: Saving the
selves of adolesc ent girls. New York:
Ballentine Books.
Skeggs, B. (1997). Formations of c lass and
 Hannah Frith & Kate Gleeson

gender. London: Sage.

Sontag, S. (1972). The double standard of
ageing. Saturday Review, 23, 29–38.
Young, I.M. (1990). Throwing like a girl and
other essays in feminist
philosophy and social theory. Indianapolis:
Indiana University Press.

Correspondence
Hannah Frith
Psychology Department,
Centre for Appearance Research, University of
the West of England,
St Matthias Campus, Fishponds,
Bristol, BS16 2JP.
Tel: 0117 3444409
Fax: 0117 3444407
E-mail: hannah.frith@uwe.ac.uk

27

Liability or asset? Women
talk about the vagina1
Virginia Braun, University of Auckland &
Sue Wilkinson, Simon Fraser University.
Social science research on women’s experiences of
having a vagina is virtually non-existent. In this
paper, we address this gap, and present an analysis
of data collected from 55 women talking about the
vagina in individual and group interviews. Two over-
arching themes found in women’s talk – the vagina
as liability, and the vagina as asset – are identified
and discussed. ‘The vagina as liability’ includes nega-
tive accounts of the vagina, in which notions of
nastiness and dirtiness, anxieties, and vulnerability
are evident. ‘The vagina as asset’ section includes
more positive accounts of the vagina, where satis-
faction, power, and pleasure are articulated. These
various meanings of the vagina reported by women
themselves map onto culturally available represen-
tations of the vagina. We conclude that we need to
continue to look for ways to disrupt the negative
meanings associated with the vagina, for women’s
genital health and sexual well-being.
given a public and central
T HE VAGINA WAS
place in the women’s liberation and
women’s health movements, both in terms of
its symbolic meanings, and in terms of experi-
ence and practice (e.g. vaginal self examina-
tion). A number of the western feminists who
drew on their own experiences to write, paint
and sculpt about having a vagina (e.g. Chicago,
1975; Greer, 1971) pointed to two things.
First, culturally, there had been a predomi-
nance of negative meanings associated with the
vagina (which they challenged). Second, they
1
The research on which this paper is based was conducted at Loughborough University as part of Virginia
28 Braun’s PhD, supervised by Sue Wilkinson and Celia Kitzinger, and funded by the Association of Commonwealth
Papers
highlighted the extent to which it had been,
for women, ‘the blank space on the map of our
bodies’ (Meulenbelt & Johanna’s Daughter,
1981, p.49). Negative representations continue
(see Braun & Wilkinson, 2001), and the vagina
has remained a largely culturally taboo topic,
something not easily talked about (Braun,
1999; Ensler, 1998).
However, a notable contemporary contrast
to this ‘blank space’, socio-culturally, is the
play The Vagina Monologues (Ensler, 1998). This
series of monologues, based on interviews with
a diverse range of approximately 200 women,
and presented interspersed with ‘vagina facts’,
puts the word vagina, and women’s various
experiences of it, into public discourse and
debate. The monologues range from brutal
accounts of rape and abuse at the hands of
soldiers in the former Yugoslavia, and child
sexual abuse through stories of vaginal, clitoral,
and sexual discovery and pleasure. The media
attention/controversy that The Vagina Monologues
continues to evoke – particularly in places
where it is just starting to be shown (e.g. in
New Zealand, see de Boni, 2002) – demon-
strates the apparently still controversial nature
of the topic. That talking about it, publicly,
invokes debate, suggests that for some, it is
still something that should not be talked
about. However, anecdotal evidence from
friends and colleagues in the UK and New
Zealand suggests that the impact of this single
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 28–42
ISSN: 1466–3724

play has been to make the vagina an acceptable
topic of conversation among many women, and
men.
In academia, social science research on the
vagina remains rare (Bell & Apfel, 1995) –
particularly research focused exclusively on the
vagina, in contrast to research discussing the
vagina as part of a broader research topic, such as
gynaecology or sexuality (e.g. Pliskin, 1995;
Reinholtz & Muehlenhard, 1995; Roberts,
Kippax, Spongberg & Crawford, 1996). Most
social science research and writing on the vagina
addresses ‘cultural’ or symbolic meanings.
Shirley Ardener (1987), for instance, discussed
(powerful) symbolic uses to which vaginal
iconography has been put, cross-culturally and
historically. Other researchers (e.g. Beit-
Hallahmi, 1985; Braun & Wilkinson, 2001)
have identified a range of (negative) meanings
available in diverse socio-cultural representations
of women’s genitals, such as the vagina as
absence, the vagina as (passive) receptacle for the
penis, the vagina as sexually inadequate, the
vagina as disgusting, the vagina as vulnerable
and abused, and the vagina as dangerous – often
manifest as the vagina dentata (toothed vagina)
motif. Some researchers have focused their atten-
tion on more specific sites, such as the dictionary
(Braun & Kitzinger, 2001b; Willinsky, 1987),
genital slang (Braun & Kitzinger, 2001a; also
Dickson, 1985; Mills, 1995; Ussher, 1989), or
medical texts (e.g. Moore & Clarke, 1995;
Petersen, 1998; also Kapsalis, 1997; Lawrence &
Bendixen, 1992; Shildrick & Price, 1992).
Cultural practices around the female genitals,
such as western ‘cosmetic’ genital surgery
(Adams, 1997; also Manderson, 1999), vaginal
tightening practices in places like Zaire and
Zimbabwe (e.g. Brown, Ayowa & Brown, 1993;
Civic & Wilson, 1996; Pitts, Magunje &
McMaster, 1994; Runganga, Pitts & McMaster,
1992), and female genital mutilation (e.g.,
McCaffrey, 1995; Walker & Parmar, 1993;
Williams & Sobieszczyk, 1997; Wright, 1996),
have been, and continue to be, examined.
In most of this research on the vagina,
however, women’s voices and ‘experiences’
Virginia Braun & Sue Wilkinson
remain relatively silent. Notable exceptions
include an examination of the symbolic and
material meanings of the vagina for women
whose vaginas had been removed due to
diethylstilbestrol-related cancer (Bell & Apfel,
1995), and work we have done on women
talking about vaginal size (Braun & Kitzinger,
2001c). Both articles demonstrated the extent
to which women’s reported experiences and
accounts of the meaning/importance of their
vaginas are linked to, or in resistance to, socio-
culturally available ways of understanding
what the vagina ‘means’.
In this paper, we look at women’s talk
about the vagina, focusing on a broad range of
meanings evident in women’s talk. Our theo-
retical framework here is a constructionist one,
in which we seek not only to analyse women’s
reported experiences, beliefs, etc., about the
vagina, but also examine the extent to which
those experiences, beliefs etc are interlinked
with broader socio-cultural ways of thinking
about, and making sense of, the vagina, what it
means, what it is like, and what it is intended
for. We see this as a reciprocal process, in which
talk and experience is informed by broader
socio-cultural meanings, but that in turn, such
talk feeds into, and helps constitute, that socio-
cultural context.
Data
We draw on data collected as part of a larger
UK-based project on the vagina (see also
Braun, 2000; Braun & Kitzinger, 2001c).
Fifty-five women, who were recruited through
acquaintances, collegial contacts, and snow-
balling, participated in 20 individual and
group interviews. They ranged in age from
under 20 to over 50 (the majority were in their
20s), and were predominantly white, middle
class, able-bodied, and highly educated. Most
were heterosexual, with six identifying as
lesbian, one as bisexual, and six as ‘other’.
The topic of the interviews was ‘the
vagina’, and particular areas covered were:
language and terminology (which terms people 29
liked/disliked, terms they used etc.); interac-
 Liability or asset?
tions with doctors; awareness of the vagina
(including discussion of how it looks, feels,
smells, tastes and sounds); sex; feelings about
the vagina (including personal and perceived
social meanings); and vaginal imagery.
Discussion lasted between 50 minutes and 21/4
hours, and in all but three instances, the inter-
views were conducted and moderated by VB.
The other three instances were self-moderated.
Data were audiotaped, transcribed verbatim,
and subjected to qualitative analysis for
commonly recurring themes. In this paper, we
focus on two over-arching, and often overlap-
ping, themes found in women’s talk about the
vagina: ‘the vagina as liability’, and ‘the vagina
as asset’.
The vagina as liability
A negative depiction of the vagina – i.e. as a
liability – ran throughout most women’s talk
about the vagina. This depiction was found
both in talk about ‘personal’ experiences,
beliefs, etc., and in talk about how society
represents the vagina, or what men are
purported to think and do. Here, we identify
three ways in which this construction of
liability was manifest – in talk about (a)
Nastiness and dirtiness, (b) Anxieties, and (c)
Vulnerability.
(a) Nastiness and dirtiness
Women identified a cultural context in which
‘vaginas are thought of […] in a derogatory
manner’ (Kate, FG5): they are seen as having
‘some sort of dirty connotation’ (Donna, FG9),
being ‘a bit nasty’ (Clare, FG12); as ‘dirty and
disgusting’ (Penny, FG13). While most women
tended to explicitly reject these ideas them-
selves, they frequently attributed ‘behaviours’
and ‘attitudes’ resonant with this socio-cultural
meaning to men. In some instances, general
male attitudes or opinions were reported. For
instance, one woman identified the attitude
that a man should never see his female partner
give birth because ‘they’ll never want to sleep
30 with you again’ (Clare, FG12). Men were
described as considering the vagina to be a
‘gross part’ (Lauren, I5) because of menstrua-
tion and other such processes. Susan (FG10)
explained why she thought women are more
likely to give oral sex to men than vice versa: ‘I
think that for men it’s like, well it doesn’t taste
nice ((laughs)) […] Um they’re a bit wary of it
just in my
experience’.
As well as these descriptions about men in
general, accounts of purported actual male
behaviours were also produced as evidence of
men’s generally negative ‘attitude’ to the
vagina. One woman talked about her
babysitter’s boyfriend:
He le n : She’s only young, she’s got this
boyfriend at the moment she’s trying to
convince him to give her oral sex and he won’t,
he won’t put his mouth down there, ‘no, no,
that’s horrible, it’s disgusting’. (FG5)
Reports of (men’s) reluctance, anxiety or
disgust at oral contact with female
genitalia has been noted, in other research on
oral sex, to suggest ‘an enunciation of a histor-
ical cultural connection between women’s geni-
tals and filth and disease’ (Roberts et al., 1996,
p.112; see also Reinholtz & Muehlenhard,
1995; and Shostak, 1981, for a more psychody-
namic interpretation).
However, these reports were not limited to
sexual contexts. Another woman recounted an
experience at school:
Pe nny: I remember once when, oh god even
when I think about it I think ‘urgh’, there was,
um, a lad at school, and ah, I was sat with me
legs open, he says ‘oh, shut your legs your meat
stinks’, and I was like, urgh, how, what a
horrible thing to say. All he had to say was, you
know, cross your legs or something. (FG13)
Through descriptions like this, women
claim to be demonstrating that men find
women’s genitals disgusting – and they ‘quote’
men’s purported words and actions in support
of this claim. In such accounts, men as a group,
and individual men, are represented as culture’s
actors, as the ‘mouthpiece’ of the socio-cultural
context where women’s genitals are considered
‘disgusting’. The common-sense nature of this

account seemed so strong that in some
instances, men’s positive reactions were treated
with scepticism. For example, talking about a
male partner’s feelings about her genital
appearance, Donna (FG9) noted:
Do nna : I can’t get over the fact that James
finds them attractive, you know, that, that he’ll
(I’ll ask) well he’ll say ‘but they’re just
gorgeous, it’s just gorgeous, how can you not
like it?’ I said ‘well mh, ’cause you just don’t do
you’. He said ‘well it’s just, it’s just gorgeous,
it’s really, really nice’. (FG9)
A highly positive account, which contra-
dicts the cultural stereotype, is purportedly
hard to believe. It contrasts with what was
frequently represented in women’s talk as a
broader male/cultural ‘attitude’ that the vagina
is not nice.
(b) Anxieties
While women were often dismissive of society’s
and men’s reported negative attitudes toward
the vagina, not all women were able to resist the
suggestion that the vagina is not quite nice, as is
evidenced in the quote from Donna above. A
number of women articulated mild or not so
mild concerns or anxieties about the state of
their vagina, sometimes in relation to what an
imaginary other person might think about it.
Donna (FG9) commented
‘I (worried) you know, that’s, that’s really awful,
that’s really weird’. In this quote, Donna articu-
lates ‘worries’ which reportedly exist despite
reassurances (from boyfriends) that her genitals
look ‘gorgeous’ and taste ‘sweet’. She identified
these ‘worries’ as her own. Lauren (I5) similarly
described anxiety around taste, particularly
having oral sex with a new male partner:
La ure n: I think anxiety’s more round taste
than anything else.
Ginny: Mhm.
La ure n: Um, anxious that that it doesn’t,
that it wouldn’t taste right. (I5)
Vaginal taste was described as causing
‘anxiety’, in particular contexts in which taste
became salient. For these women, the vagina is
part of the body that has a taste that might not
Virginia Braun & Sue Wilkinson
be ‘right’, or might even be ‘really awful’.
Smell was talked about in a comparable way:
J o : I have a shower paranoia before sex.
Ma ry: Do you?
J o : Well no that’s not true, actually I’m more
con- what am I concerned about? If, if, if I
know I’m seeing a bloke and I’m, I’m going out
in the evening, then I will have a shower and
that’s enough for me and I don’t, I don’t need
to, you know, deodorants sprays ((laughs)) you
know, that stuff, but […] when I haven’t had a
shower all day […] I’ll be sort of far too ‘ooh I
haven’t had a shower for like eight hours so you
can’t do anything’. But then that’s just me.
(FG1)
Similarly:
Ginny: You’re s’posed to have a lot of anxiety
about [genital smell], you’re s’posed to be
worrying about it.
Gillia n: I do, I wash it,
Vivie nne : (unclear) Yeah.
Gillia n: (unclear) my boyfriend all the time, I
don’t let him come near me unless I have,
Vivie nne : In the shower and stuff, right, this
is going to sound crude, ((laughs)) but I always
check myself just to, ((laughs))
Gillia n: ((laughs))
Vivie nne : I don’t like check my like stick
my, you know, you just get your finger don’t
you,
Gillia n: ((laughs))
Ginny: Mhm.
Vivie nne : And just I don’t know.
Gillia n: I just wash all the time. (FG3)
These women went on to talk about
‘femme wipes’ designed for the spontaneous
sexual situation. However, like Jo, they
contrasted their concerns about smell and
‘reasonable’ actions taken to eliminate it (show-
ering), with the observation that the use of
such products is ‘a bit excessive’ (Gillian, FG3).
In these accounts, the level of hygiene required
to engage in (genital) sexual behaviours with
another person is more than the level of
hygiene required for non-sexual situations, and
the reported ‘concern’ about the vagina being 31
unpleasant is based on concerns about what
 Liability or asset?
another might think/feel. The way women
described hygiene and cleanliness suggests that
without regular cleaning, the vagina is not fit
to be shown to anyone
(i.e. men).
Reported concerns about the genitals not
only related to what a sexual partner might
think, but also to what health professionals
might think. One woman, who had never had
a smear, talked about what it would be like if
she were to go for one. Note that both Imogen
and Caitlin worked in the health area:
Pe nny: I’d probably have to spend about five
hours scrubbing my fanny before I, ((laughs))
Ca itlin: ((laughs))
Im o g e n: Oh no honestly, half the things you
see, I mean patients come to you in all sorts of
states, and you just do it.
Pe nny: Mm.
Ca itlin: If, if, you don’t get offended anymore
(unclear).
Im o g e n: No, no, not at all. (FG13)
In these extracts, ‘imagined’ judgements
are held up as a basis for assessing genital
hygiene and appearance, in particular contexts,
and the anxiety the women report is that it will
smell, look, or taste ‘wrong’. And in this last
extract, that possibility that it might be
‘wrong’ in some way is indeed reinforced by
what the health workers, Imogen and Caitlin,
report – they apparently see vaginas ‘in all sorts
of states’ but ‘don’t get offended anymore’.
In these extracts, we can see women articu-
lating ‘anxieties’ about their genitals that are
resonant with a representation of women’s
genitals as ‘not quite nice’, discussed in the
previous section (see also Braun & Wilkinson,
2001). This fits with Roberts et al.’s (1996)
suggestion that the women they interviewed
might ‘live these [negative] cultural meanings
in their embodiment’ (p.119) and, therefore,
that experiences of anxiety, and of vulnerability,
in relation to receiving oral sex, were not
surprising. It is also worth noting that the
majority of these expressed anxieties reflect
32 particular contexts in which the genitalia
might be ‘judged’ in some way. ‘Anxiety’ is not
necessarily a singular, unitary thing –
Reinholtz and Muehlenhard (1995), for
instance, found genital perception (and
concern) to be context-specific, and varied
among different sexual activities (e.g. receiving
oral sex vs. masturbation).
(c) Vulnerability
A somewhat different manifestation of the
vagina as liability was found in talk about
‘vulnerability’. Women invoked vulnerability
in their talk about the vagina, on both a
physical and psychological/emotional level. In
terms of a physical vulnerability, Jo (FG1) made
the following observations about the ‘invasive-
ness’ of heterosex:
J o : I think there’s something very different
between putting a part of your body in some-
thing and having something put into your
body. I just see the two as incredibly different,
I see that it’s more vulnerable to have some-
thing put in you, than to be able to put some-
thing. (FG1)
Similarly, Lauren (15) explained why she
found gynaecological examinations uncomfort-
able:
La ure n: Because they’re in places that can be
very easily damaged I would think,
Ginny: Mhm.
La ure n: That are incredibly sensitive and
don’t have much exposure to people.
Ginny: Mhm.
La ure n: So I think that makes it very vulner-
able. (I5)
Lauren drew on the physical state of the
vagina (‘very easily damaged’) to invoke vulner-
ability in a gynaecology context (see also Fish &
Wilkinson, 2000). However, she also alluded to
the ‘private’ nature of the female genitals – part
of the body not typically exposed to people –
which suggests a ‘psychological’ element to
this experienced vulnerability. Gillian and
Vivienne (FG3), while talking primarily about
a physical vulnerability, and comparative
male/female genital anatomy, also made refer-
ence to this ‘hidden’ aspect of the female geni-

tals:
Gillia n: You could link it
Ginny: Mhm.
Gillia n: to like the vulnerability as well, like
with girls who like I s’pose like in, big jump,
could link to rape and attack and stuff
Ginny: Mhm.
Gillia n: Like that, because boys have got it
there, you know, it’s there, and it’s like out
there, outside,
Ginny: Mhm.
Gillia n: they’re not hiding it, whereas for a
girl its their personal thing and it is,
Vivie nne : Inside them.
Gillia n: something which I mean is impor-
tant to someone. You wouldn’t just, which is
why people get so you know traumatised by
rape and things like that, because it’s theirs,
and its just been taken, if you know
Ginny: Mhm.
Gillia n : what I mean, (when) without
consent, and its like it makes you feel, how,
who do they think they are to do that. (FG3)
Gillian linked vulnerability to rape, and to
the fact that for girls, the genitals are not ‘out
there’. In these quotes, we can see a linking
between the physical fact of vaginal interiority,
and a sense of emotional vulnerability. These
observations tie with psychoanalytic accounts
of vaginal vulnerability and interiority (e.g.
Horney, 1933; Shopper, 1979).
Other women talked about the vagina in
ways that invoked a psychological or emotional
vulnerability that was less explicitly tied to its
physical ‘interiority’. For instance, three
lesbian women talked about the meaning of
penetrating another woman’s vagina with a
finger (or something else):
Me g a n: It’s a lot more of an intrusion than
touching somebody’s breasts.
Pe nny: Yeah, or touching the clitoris,
Me g a n?: Mm.
Pe nny: I think.
Ca itlin: I don’t know.
[…]
Me g a n: I just think it’s, it’s more personal,
Pe nny: Mm.
Virginia Braun & Sue Wilkinson
Me g a n: and it’s more of an intrusion.
Ca itlin: Mm.
Me g a n: It’s more,
Ca itlin: Not, but what if you. (pause) No I
disagree, because I think (pause) if you really
enjoy penetration, then it’s not going to be so
much of an in-
Pe nny: Mm.
Ca itlin: an intrusion I think. (FG13)
Here, vaginal vulnerability is invoked
through the concept of ‘intrusion’ – which
references an interiority – but is also linked to
the vagina being ‘personal’ (see also Roberts et
al., 1996). However, this quote demonstrates
that the notion of vulnerability is also open to
debate: Caitlin challenged a unilateral meaning
necessarily associating penetration with vulner-
ability.
In these accounts, the vagina is talked
about in ways that suggests it offers a potential
vulnerability (partly physiological, partly
psychological/emotional), and in this sense, it
can be seen as ‘liability’.
The vagina as asset
Positive depictions of the vagina – of the
vagina as ‘asset’ – also ran through most
women’s talk about the vagina. Here we focus
on accounts of (a) Satisfaction, (b) Power, and
(c) Pleasure.
(a) Satisfaction
In contrast to accounts of the vagina as some-
thing unpleasant, or causing anxiety, some
women expressed what can be described as
satisfaction and comfort with, or even delight
in, their vagina: ‘I like my vagina (laughs) it’s
cool’ (Penny, FG13),
‘I love my vag and my vag loves me’ (Caitlin,
FG13), and ‘life wouldn’t be worth living
(laughs) if I didn’t have a vagina’ (Sam, FG14).
Similarly, ‘I’ve never considered the vagina to
be anything other than a, a rather wonderful
thing’ (Jan, FG5)’. In these accounts, the
vagina is ‘wonderful’, and having a vagina is
represented as a good thing, something life is 33
not ‘worth living’ without.
 Liability or asset?
Women also made ‘positive’ comments in
relation to specific aspects of the vagina. Carol
(I1), for example, described the appearance,
smell, taste, and feel of her vagina and external
genitals as ‘hard to dislike’. Here is her
response to the interviewer’s question ‘how do
you feel about the way your vagina looks?’
Ca ro l: I think it looks great, and the reason it
looks great is not um, ah, on the basis of any
kind of comparisons (unclear) ((laughs)) that
I’ve ever witnessed, it’s more the case that I find
that, um, it’s more a kind of behaviourist prin-
ciple really, that on the whole ((laughs)) people
have responded very favourably to it, and that
makes me think, ah, you know, it must be
deeply attractive.
Ginny: Mhm.
Ca ro l: I’m happy to believe that, you know.
(I1)
Carol describes the appearance of her
vagina positively, as ‘great’, something she
thinks must be ‘deeply attractive’, on the basis
of feedback from others (the ‘behaviourist prin-
ciple’), rather than on any ‘independent’ assess-
ment.
Other women talked about liking partic-
ular smells:
Am a nd a : But it’s kind of, it’s a different
smell though isn’t it, when you’re, when you’re
aroused. That’s, that’s a different smell to just
S us a n: Mm.
Am a nd a : if you don’t wash, or whatever,
S us a n: Mm.
Ginny: Mhm.
Am a nd a : You know, that kind of has a smell
of its own, doesn’t it.
Ginny: Mhm.
Am a nd a : And I think that’s (pause) that in
itself can be quite erotic,
Ginny: Mhm.
Am a nd a : And I think (pause) men find that
too. (FG10)
Here, the smell of an aroused vagina is
described as ‘erotic’ – to men as well as to
Amanda. (This is, however, explicitly
34 contrasted with the smell of an ‘unwashed’
vagina.) Similarly, Lauren observed:
La ure n: I don’t really notice the smell, unless
I’ve recently had sex so,
Ginny: Mhm.
La ure n: Um, and then I kind of like the way
it smells. (I5)
Another woman who commented, in rela-
tion to taste, that ‘I like it’ (Yvonne, FG6),
described the ‘squelching’ sounds her vagina
made as ‘lovely’ and ‘gorgeous’.
These evaluations were typically made only
about the woman’s own vagina, rather than
about vaginas per se, or in comparison to other
women’s vaginas. However, in some instances,
positive evaluations of women’s genitals –
generally – were made in (implicit or explicit)
comparison to men’s genitals. For instance,
Hannah (FG11) described women’s ‘bits’ as
‘neat and tidy’ and affirmed it as a good thing,
while Theresa (FG8) observed that ‘we’re
discreet aren’t we, discreet, tucked away’.
Similarly:
Vivie nne : I’m proud of it in that I wouldn’t
want men’s bits.
Ginny: Mhm.
Vivie nne : I think they’re ugly.
Gillia n: They’re ugly, yeah.
Vivie nne : And I think women’s bits are
attractive,
Ginny: Mhm.
Vivie nne : that was why,
Gillia n: (unclear) and they’re not. (FG3)
Here, although a ‘positive’ evaluation of
‘women’s bits’ is given (they are ‘attractive’), it
is presented in a context of evaluating ‘men’s
bits’ as ‘ugly’. Women frequently described
men’s genitals as unattractive or ‘ugly’, or as
ridiculous or ‘silly’ – as ‘silly willies’. Through
the cultural construction of women’s genitals as
‘the total opposite’ (Fiona, FG8) of men’s, this
description of men’s in negative terms can work
to position women’s genitals as ‘better’, even
without an explicit positive evaluation from
the women themselves.
In summary, some women in this research
claimed a level of satisfaction with their own
vagina, and even represented it as ‘wonderful’,
as something they ‘love’. Others described

women’s genitals per se in positive terms, often
in comparison to men’s genitals.
(b) Power
Women talked about the vagina as something
that ‘has incredible power’ (Kate, FG5), or
gives them power. In women’s talk, power was
conceptualised in two different ways – as
‘sexual power’, and as ‘knowledge and bodily
awareness’. For instance, when asked to clarify
what she meant by her comment that the
vagina ‘has incredible power’, Kate initially
responded in a way which invoked ‘sexual
power’:
Ka te : Guys say, ‘ooh women have just got
penis envy’ and I always say, ‘sunshine, with
what I’ve got I can get as many penises as I
want’.
((laughter))
He le n: Right.
Ka te : And they only ever get one, you know,
?: Mm.
Ka te : assuming that they are hom ah hetero-
sexual (FG5).
Here, ‘sexual power’ is evident as some-
thing which enables (heterosexual) women to
‘get’ penises (or men), and as many as they
might want. Such talk of ‘sexual power’ was
typically made in reference to (heterosexual)
men, and to having a power ‘over’ them:
Fio na : Women have the most incredible tools
to use against [men’s] erections you see.
Zo ë : Like what?
Fio na : Well you’ve got your vagina haven’t
you.
Th e re s a : ((laughs))
Fio na : Just a thought can (lift ‘em), all you’ve
gotta do is
Th e re s a : ((laughs))
Fio na : (Face) men, and you can play all day.
((laughter))
[…]
Le ig h : It’s a weapon, it’s a very powerful
weapon.
Fio na : It is a powerful weapon. (FG8)
In this account, the vagina is depicted as
something that enables women to ‘play’ with
Virginia Braun & Sue Wilkinson
men, who are represented as being helpless in
the face of it. Other women used the concept of
(sexual) power in a less extreme, but similar,
fashion:
Gillia n: I don’t think men can turn women
on as we, much, or as quickly, or as intensely, as
women can to them,
Ginny: Mhm.
Gillia n: from my. I don’t think that anyway,
’cause, you know, I don’t, I’ve never had a situ-
ation where I’ve just thought, God I just want
to rip his
pants off.
?: ((laughs))
Gillia n: And I think with men they get like
that all the time.
Vivie nne : They do get (unclear), they’ve got
something where like, ah can’t do, yeah.
Gillia n: So I s’pose it’s all like a power full
sort of thing to have in that sense. (FG3)2
The way these women described it, the
vagina gives them a power ‘over’ heterosexual
men. A similar interpretation has also been
made of the (in)famous scene in the film Basic
Instinct (Verhoeven, 1992) – identified as ‘one
of the iconic moments in ‘90s cinema’ (Smith,
2000, p.116) – where the character Catherine
Tramell (played by Sharon Stone) is being
interrogated by the police, wearing a short
skirt and no knickers. She uncrosses and
recrosses her legs, her vulva momentarily
visible: ‘She’s saying ‘I’m gonna get you with
my pussy.’’ (Canning, 1992, cited in Galvin,
1994, p.221). This power, then, is in some
sense a manipulative power, enabling women
to control (heterosexual) men in a way they
would not be able to if they did not have a
vagina.
Other women described a more ‘benign’
power, which revolved around ‘knowledge and
bodily awareness’: This meaning came into the
final part of Kate’s response to Ginny’s question
about power:
Ka te : And why has it got power? Well I- it’s
because bodies have if y- if you know your
body, and you’re aware of your body, it’s, it’s a 35
powerful thing, you know.
 Liability or asset?
?: Mm.
Ka te : It’s, it’s great, it’s wonderful, it’s sexual,
it’s, it’s, can do terrific things for you, you
know, and that, a vagina’s just part of it. (FG5)
This power is constructed as something
personal, developed by a woman through
knowledge of her body and her desires, her
bodily awareness:
Ma ria : I think I know a lot more about, about
the vagina now as well, and I’m actually much
more relaxed about it,
Cla re : Mhm.
Ma ria : So that I don’t expect, um, ah, a
certain reaction. Or, or I, I think for a while you
have to used to go, I mean, I know my body
much better.
Cla re : Mhm.
Ma ria : For example, I think there are times
when I was younger that I was worried about
that there was a lot of secretion, for example,
Cla re : Mhm.
Ma ria : Which, the smell changed and what-
ever.
Cla re : Mhm.
Ma ria : Now I’m much more aware of the
changes my body goes through,
Cla re : Mhm.
Ma ria : so that doesn’t worry me. (FG12)
Here, knowledge and awareness are
presented as freeing Maria from (unnecessary)
anxieties. In such accounts, knowledge is
described as resulting in an empowered sexu-
ality, or an empowered embodiment, where
socio-cultural norms, such as the promotion of
vaginal tightness (see Braun & Kitzinger,
2001c), can be resisted, and personal ‘anxieties’
overcome. For instance, Lauren, who had
described her vaginal changes during arousal,
mentioning ‘tingling’, ‘fullness’, and size
changes she could ‘physically feel’, responded
to a question about size concerns with:
La ure n: It shrinks and expands,
2
Note the heterosexism of these extracts. This account, and the previous one, tell a commonsense story of
36 women 'turning men on', and, to a lesser extent, vice versa, which assumes heterosexual desire. Heterosexism
was a feature of much of the talk about the vagina (see Braun, 2000).
Ginny: Mhm.
La ure n: depending on use.
Ginny: Mhm.
La ure n: I s’pose on [penis vaginal penetra-
tion], um, but also within a month it shrinks
and expands.
Ginny: Mhm.
La ure n: So no, I’m not overly bothered about
size, it’s a very elastic organ. (I5)
Carol (I1) similarly talked about her vagina
as something that ‘go[es] really kind of
balloon-like’ with sexual arousal, and noted
that this knowledge freed her from concerns
about tightness:
Ca ro l: I think I sort of discovered that vaginas
do this when you have sex with them at around,
ah, this was around, ah, ah, the same time that
I was, s-stopped, sort of, (unclear) I cast off the
idea that vaginas ought to be tight. (I1)
In these quotes, bodily knowledge/
awareness is associated with the women’s
reported ability to overcome (negative) socio-
cultural constructions of how a vagina ought to
be, and thus can be seen as bodily (and sexually)
empowering.
(c) Pleasure
Talk about pleasure was another way the vagina
was depicted positively. Some women made
very brief comments about pleasure: ‘I get
great pleasure out of it’ (Sam, FG14), it ‘feels
nice’ (Hannah, FG11), and ‘throbbing, my
God’ (Donna, FG9).
This ‘throbbing’ was described by a number of
women:
Ca itlin: I think it can be throbbing and,
Pe nny: Pulsating, and,
Ca itlin: pulsating, exactly, and it is, it’s all
muscle and blood vessels and it’s,
Pe nny: urging. (FG13)
In this extract, Caitlin and Penny construct
an active vagina that ‘throbs’, ‘pulsates’, and
‘urges’. While pleasure is not explicitly articu-

lated, it is implicit. Located within a discussion
of desire/pleasure, the language used is the
language of active sexuality. Similarly here
(where Mary has just described a ‘heavy throb-
bing’ in her vagina):
Ginny: Is that pleasurable? ((laughs))
Ma ry: I’ll say. ((laughs)) However, I wonder
how much of that is tied up with anticipation
rather than actual pleasure.
Ginny: Mm.
Kay: What is it you actually feel (unclear)?
J o : The juices flowing.
Ginny: Physical sensation?
?: Yes.
Ma ry: Yes. O-I- I have had, um, experiences
where I have felt a great deal of pleasure
in it.
Kay: Whether something’s in it or not you
(just feel)?
J o : Oh yeah.
Ma ry: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
J o : The juices start flowing don’t they?
Ma ry: Yeah that’s ((laughs)) it’s, it’s what
I call sort of a he- it’s sort of a weighted throb-
bing. (FG1)
These women describe the vagina as plea-
surable (as well as active), and attempt – with
some success – collaboratively to articulate just
what that pleasure is, and where it is located.3
Talk about sexual pleasure typically related
to vaginal penetration. Both heterosexual and
lesbian women noted that they liked penetra-
tion because it provides a sensation of fullness
that is arousing/
pleasurable. For example:
La ure n: It just has a fuller feeling,
Ginny: Mhm.
La ure n: More arousing feeling, when some-
thing’s in it as opposed to when something’s
not. (I5)
This sensation of ‘fullness’ has been noted
by others (e.g., Greer, 1971; Kitzinger &
Wilkinson, 1994; Sisley & Harris, 1977). Hite
(1977) similarly wrote about vaginal ache,
which she identified as ‘desire to be filled’
(p.195).
Virginia Braun & Sue Wilkinson
Despite these instances of pleasure talk,
there were few detailed accounts of pleasure.
The difficulty women generally seemed to have
in articulating pleasure maps onto previous
research which has shown the difficulty women
apparently have in articulating the (bodily)
specifics of desire and pleasure (e.g. Fine, 1988;
Finlay, 2001). Reference to specific aspects of
pleasure – indeed, what pleasure actually
entails and feels like – was notably rare, despite
the focus on the vagina as the key topic for
conversation.
The vagina: Liability and asset?
In this paper, we have focused on two over-
arching themes in women’s talk about the
vagina – the vagina as liability, evidenced in
talk about nastiness and dirtiness, anxieties,
and vulnerability, and the vagina as asset,
evidenced in talk about satisfaction, power, and
pleasure. However, although representations of
the vagina as ‘liability’ or ‘asset’ ran throughout
our data, the way women talked about the
vagina cannot simply be classified as ‘negative’
or ‘positive’. In most of the interviews and
focus groups, these themes co-existed. Indeed,
aspects of each of these ‘types’ of talk co-existed
in most women’s accounts, and were often
juggled or balanced, and existed alongside
what can be see as ‘neutral’ accounts (which we
have not focused on in this paper). In other
words, for most of the women we talked to, the
vagina appeared both as liability and as asset,
and as something in-between. This suggests
that there is not a singular or unilateral
meaning for the vagina for women (see also
Reinholtz & Muehlenhard, 1995), and that
different meanings compete with each other,
and find their place in different accounts, at
different moments.
We stated in the introduction that we are
interested in links between socio-culturally
available meanings and what women say about
the vagina and their experiences of having one.
Through looking at the links between what
women say, and what is available socio- 37
culturally, we can see women’s individual
 Liability or asset?
stories of the vagina as liability or as asset not
as idiosyncratic, but as cultural products (Beit-
Hallahmi, 1985). Indeed, women’s talk about
the vagina as both liability and asset mirrors
socio-cultural representations of the vagina
that we have identified elsewhere (Braun &
Wilkinson, 2001). Talk about the vagina as
vulnerable maps onto a socio-cultural represen-
tation of the vagina as vulnerable. This socio-
cultural representation is evident in
psychoanalytic accounts of psychological
vulnerability, and in accounts of physical
vulnerability through events such as child-
birth, penetrative sexual practices and rape.
The attitudes and behaviours attributed to
men, and the anxieties identified by women,
are an articulation of the socio-cultural repre-
sentation of the vagina as something
disgusting, which is evident in accounts of the
vagina as a part of the body that smells, is dirty
or diseased (slang frequently articulates these
meanings; Braun & Kitzinger, 2001a; see also
Braun & Wilkinson, 2001, Roberts et al.,
1996). Positive accounts of the vagina as asset
can similarly be seen as cultural products,
mapping on to ‘alternative’ (often feminist)
socio-cultural representations of the vagina as
remarkable, a source of pride and empower-
ment, the mark of our ‘womanhood’, and a site
of pleasure and active sexuality (see Braun &
Wilkinson, 2001).
Following our theoretical framework, we
argue that socio-cultural representations simul-
taneously reflect, and produce, the object they
ostensibly ‘describe’, and allow for possible
ways of experiencing one’s own, and other
people’s bodies. Women’s talk about the vagina
as ‘asset’ demonstrates that feminist and other
challenges to negative representations of the
vagina, and conceptualisations of
power/empowerment and pleasure linked to
bodily awareness and acceptance (e.g. The
3
We do not wish naively to suggest that ‘pleasure’ is unequivocally good (see Brown, 1994; Frith, 1994; Kitzinger,
1994). However, of consideration here is talk of pleasure as one instance where the vagina is described
38 ‘positively’ by these women, and one which does not simply reproduce gendered ideas of the passive vagina
which functions solely or primarily as receptacle for the penis (see Braun & Wilkinson, 2001).
Boston Women’s Health Book Collective,
1992; Federation of Feminist Women’s Health
Centers, 1981) have found a place among what
can currently be said about the vagina. This
suggests that promoting more ‘positive’
knowledges about the vagina for women may
well be effective in helping allow positive
meanings and experiences for individual
women. Possible sites of such promotion and
disruption for women, and men, include the
sexual and health curricula in schools, the
content of women’s and men’s magazines, and
notably ‘Agony Aunt’ pages, (public) health
information pamphlets, the internet, and
particularly chat rooms, and even the education
of health care professionals. And as mentioned
in the introduction, The Vagina Monologues
(Ensler, 1998) has been important socio-
culturally in creating a space in which ‘vagina’
is an acceptable word to say, or at least a space
in which to debate this. The extent to which
this has a significant impact on the ‘meanings’
of the vagina, socio-culturally, in the west,
remains to be seen.4
To sum up, the vagina is part of most
women’s bodies, and a part that is implicated,
for most, in sexuality, in childbirth and repro-
duction, and in (genital) health. On an indi-
vidual level, feeling comfortable with their
bodies, including their genitals, and taking
charge of them, may be important for women’s
health and well-being (Crooks & Baur, 1999;
Robson-Scott, 1991), and for women having
control over their sexuality and sexual
behaviour (e.g. Thompson, 1990), and
enjoying it (Reinholtz & Muehlenhard, 1995).
While the vagina is part of the body that is
constructed as negative, or shrouded in taboo
and mystery – something too embarrassing to
talk about – it will be more difficult for women
to be positive or informed about their bodies in
these contexts. Furthermore, the development

of female genital cosmetic surgery in the US
and elsewhere (see Adams, 1997; Braun &
Kitzinger, 2001c) suggests an urgent need to
continue to question what the vagina means to
women. In the data presented in this paper, it
is reassuring to see that positive (and even
neutral) accounts of what the vagina means to
them, and how they experience it, are found in
women’s talk, even if they usually co-exist
alongside more negative meanings. The chal-
lenge for academics, health professionals, and
others, is (to continue) to promote more posi-
tive meanings, and to disrupt the more nega-
tive meanings, in our writings, and in our
practices.
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Correspondence
Virginia Braun
Department of Psychology, 41
The University of Auckland,
 Liability or asset?

42

Gender issues in facial
disfigurement: A review
of the literature
concerning early
adulthood
Jess Prior, London Metropolitan University &
Andrea J. Price, North Western College, Iowa.
HIS PAPER AIMS to explore some of the key
T gender issues in facial disfigurement and,
in particular, research evidence concerning
young women’s experience of living with a
disfiguring condition. It is important to note
that adolescence encompasses a period lasting
about 10 years, and that researchers may sub-
divide this period of the lifespan. For example,
Starr (1980) suggests a division between early
adolescence (13–14 years) and late adolescence
(15–18 years). It is unclear how young women’s
attitudes and experiences of disfigurement
change from early to late teenage years, and
into adulthood, and these are issues clearly
requiring more detailed exploration and longi-
tudinal study. It must also be acknowledged
that women with a facial disfigurement are a
heterogeneous group with a range of conditions
which may be more or less noticeable and
painful. There are many causes of facial disfig-
urements, such as congenital, or accidental
causes, each have differing treatments and
outcomes. It is clearly a challenging task,
therefore, to conduct this brief review of the
literature. It is not intended to be an exhaustive
or comprehensive review of the whole area of
disfigurement, and will necessarily omit or
summarise some important key areas of the
Papers
literature, in order to focus on specific areas of
concern. The main themes which are explored
include gender issues and attractiveness, treat-
ments and interventions, young women’s expe-
riences of living with a disfiguring condition,
and reactions of others to facial disfigurement.
This paper concludes with a consideration of
gender issues in relation to research methods.
The face is the main area of the body used
to communicate emotions and inner feelings.
Psychologists recognise the importance of the
face in social interaction and in facilitating
social encounters (Rumsey & Bull, 1986).
During a conversation, individuals use faces to
assess the feelings, mood and opinions of
others. Facial disfigurement may affect the
‘communication triangle’ between the eyes and
the mouth and be unsettling for others
(Frances, 2000). The sense organs are also
located in the face, and facial disfigurement
may affect the vision, hearing, sense of smell
and taste, which can be alienating from others
(Nordlicht, 1979). For example, where facial
function is impaired, individuals may need to
change their routines concerning eating,
drinking and speaking. This will impact on
many social settings and events (Butler, 2000). 43
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 43–52
ISSN: 1466–3724
 Gender issues in facial disfigurement
Gender issues and
attractiveness
It is likely that facial appearance is more
socially important to women than men, and
that women are more motivated to seek
improvement in their appearance because of
societal and cultural values concerning
women’s appearance. Rumsey and Bull (1986)
comment that: ‘Women’s magazines regularly
have articles on how to correct ‘faults’ in
appearance, and encourage people to strive to
match up to the glossy images depicted on the
magazine covers and in the advertisements,
promoting beauty as the promise of satisfaction
and happiness.’(p.203.)
The increasingly ‘visual society’ outlined
by Rumsey and Bull (1986) in the above quota-
tion may place a higher value on physical
attractiveness for women, and on the impor-
tance of looking beautiful. The media sets stan-
dards which young women will desire to
achieve as the ‘norm’ for their society, based on
a stereotype of what is considered to be facially
attractive (a symmetrical face with perfect
contours, fresh skin, rows of evenly spaced
white shining teeth, small nose, etc.). For
young women with a disfiguring condition,
there are few positive images of disabled
women in the media to offset these exacting
standards. Bull and Rumsey (1988) point to
the expansion of the cosmetics industry in
recent years, with television, radio, billboards
and magazines all promoting images of
physical perfection and the notion that one can
buy beauty.
In particular, the appearance of the face is
often used as the basis for how we assess a
person’s attractiveness. For young women there
are additional considerations and pressures not
experienced by young men. For instance, young
women are often more attentive to their facial
appearance, using make-up, hair treatments,
eyebrow plucking, and facial jewellery, which
will all be scrutinised by their peers (although
young men may also take great care over facial
44 appearance and especially hairstyles). It is
important to remember that adolescence is a
time when young people are intensely self
aware, show high levels of conformity, and may
be highly susceptible to a fear of rejection from
their peers (Silber, 1983). Young women with a
disfiguring condition may be particularly
concerned that their facial appearance differs
from their peer group. Importantly, the use of
make-up and jewellery may draw attention to
the face, but of course the absence of careful
grooming will also be noted.
Alex Clarke, a clinical psychologist
working with the charity Changing Faces
suggests that academics and clinicians must
not assume that a facial disfigurement is worse
for women than for men. She notes that the
individual’s social background and coping
mechanisms may determine how well, or
indeed how badly, an individual copes with
their disfigurement (Carlowe, 1997). It is
useful to be reminded that individual differ-
ences may be a significant factor in forming
coping strategies for living with a disfigure-
ment.
Treatments and interventions
One of the options available to some young
women with a disfiguring condition is that of
cosmetic or aesthetic surgery. It has been
suggested that there are more women patients
for a number of surgical procedures including
face-lifts, rhinoplasty and surgical removal of
port wine stains (Kalick, Goldwyn & Noe,
1981). Bull and Rumsey (1988) discuss the
important issue of the relationship between
societal values and the demand for cosmetic
surgery. As plastic surgery techniques have
advanced, surgeons can now attempt to
‘improve’ many conditions, ranging from
minor blemishes to more noticeable facial
abnormalities. In a recent interview on BBC
Radio 4’s Women’s Hour with Jenny Murray1,
Professor Nicola Rumsey outlined the pres-
sures which can be placed on young women
who are deciding whether or not to undergo
facial surgery. The surgeons can keep offering
operations to help the young person look as
good as they can, but this in itself can create

more pressure. Professor Rumsey suggested
that the danger here is that the young person
can get the message that ‘appearance is desper-
ately important or even the most important
thing in life’.
A further norm that is now widespread for
young women concerns the notion that we can,
and perhaps should, deal with facial disfigure-
ments and impairments in a medical context.
Williams (1998) suggests that there has been a
tendency for facial disfigurement to be viewed
as a medical problem, which can be ‘solved’ by
surgery. Whilst surgical attempts can be
helpful in reducing disfigurement, they rarely
completely correct or ‘cure’ the appearance of
disfigurement. The fact that some disfiguring
conditions are permanent and have no options
for surgery is not commonly appreciated. In
many cases young women may not be aware of
this and overrate the success of the upcoming
surgery, perhaps leading to disappointment and
dissatisfaction with the perceived failure of the
operation. Failure to prepare patients
adequately, or to describe the facial appearance
postoperatively, may also lead to dissatisfaction
(Macgregor, 1981). There is a clear need for
young women with a disfiguring condition to
be provided with accurate and realistic infor-
mation concerning any surgical interventions.
Along with the technical advances in
surgery, Bull and Rumsey (1988) suggest we
are adopting as a society a narrower view of
what it means to look ‘normal’. Inevitably
young women who appear facially different or
‘unusual’ in any way will be perceived as
somehow failing to match up to the explicit,
stereotypical standards of beauty and facial
attractiveness that Western societies promote.
Failure to achieve physical perfection ‘sets us
apart both in our own estimation and in the
estimation of others’ (Bull & Rumsey, 1988,
p.230).
Other options include camouflage, which
can have good outcomes for certain pigment
Jess Prior & Andrea Price
disorders (Clarke, 1998). A range of techniques
are available, which include covering creams,
and colour corrections to the skin. Young
women can learn the techniques for applying
camouflage make-up with training from a
specialist camouflage technician (Rayner,
1995). There is some suggestion that previous
expertise with applying make up could be an
advantage for young women. However,
Rumsey and Bull (1986) point out that facial
disfigurements are hard to conceal and that the
use of make-up or prosthetics may look as
unusual as the original disfigurement. Creams
and lotions can be uncomfortable, especially in
warm weather, perhaps drawing attention to a
facial impairment (Clarke, 1998). Clearly such
treatments and interventions may be particu-
larly difficult for young women, when mixing
with a highly observant and often critical peer
group. In a recent interview with a young
woman who had a facial scar (unpublished) the
author was told about the dangers of starting to
use camouflage, because it then becomes
impossible to be seen without it on. She felt the
camouflage had become a ‘disguise’ which had
to be worn at all times. Other interventions
include psychological treatments, such as social
skills training, which may improve successful
social interactions, and where young women
may also learn to deal with the reactions of
others such as staring and negative comments
(Williams, 1998; Clarke, 1998).
Young women’s accounts of
living with a disfiguring
condition
Given both the diverse range of disfigurements
and individual differences in responses to a
disfiguring condition, it is hard to generalise
about young women’s experiences of looking
visibly different. Bull (1990) raises the impor-
tant point that the majority of information that
is available concerning facial disfigurement
comes from the personal accounts of people
45
 Gender issues in facial disfigurement
with a disfigurement, and in the following
section the cases of two young women are
explored.
One detailed case study by Long and
DeVault (1990) concerns a young woman
called K, who had a painful chronic condition
called osteomyelitis of the lower left jaw. Her
face swelled on the left side, and could at times
even double in size. The paper reveals the
impact that her facial disfigurement had on her
development through childhood and adoles-
cence.
K experienced severe difficulties, with sudden
changes in her facial appearance due to swelling
of her jaw, and at times she felt that she ‘looked
like a monster’ and was ‘ugly.’ The paper also
details her
experience of the chronic pain associated with
her condition, and the numerous medical,
dental and surgical interventions she under-
went. It also describes the periods of depression
and anxiety that accompanied the treatments.
K’s case study reveals a number of impor-
tant issues pertaining to friendships and peer
relationships in adolescence.
A disfiguring condition can result in lengthy
periods away from a peer group during medical
treatment or hospital stays for some conditions.
K reports feeling that she was being ‘torn from’
her peer group after a lengthy hospital admis-
sion. This metaphor of ripping and tearing
suggests the future need for mending and
repair. Indeed specialist counselling and advice
may be beneficial for family and friends if they
are to understand how best to support the indi-
vidual after leaving hospital (Cunningham,
1999). Social life, and all opportunities to mix
socially can also become disrupted. For
example Long and DeVault (1990) report that
K had been unable to attend many important
events of her teenage years such as student
social events. A further limitation on her
ability to mix with friends and meet potential
partners was the unpredictable nature of her
46
condition, which made it hard to plan in
advance. K also reports that she hid to avoid
appearances in public.
In a recent radio interview2 in Women’s Hour,
on BBC Radio 4, Jenny Murray interviewed a
young woman called ‘Toni’, aged 17 years,
concerning her experience of living with a
condition called Cystic Hygroma. This condi-
tion causes excessive tissue growth, in her case
on her face, neck and chin. Her interview
shared many themes with the case of ‘K’
outlined above, including the need for many
operations on her face. ‘Toni’ reports that she
had undergone 23 operations by the age of 17.
Toni commented that: ‘If you go to school,
some people say to you ‘what’s wrong with
you? … I think it brings you more attention,
cos they all want to know what’s going on …
’Cos you don’t want everyone to know the ins
and outs of what’s wrong with you. It’s quite
hard. Quite painful.’
In this interview Toni also speaks about
how her facial appearance was the subject of
unwanted attention and questioning by her
peers. ‘Knowing what’s going on’ could involve
on-going questions about the operations,
changing facial appearance, and periods of
absence from school. Getting more attention,
including staring, is often reported as a diffi-
culty experienced by young people with a facial
disfigurement, (Bull & Rumsey, 1988) since
they are powerless to prevent it. Toni here
describes her loss of anonymity, or the ability to
‘blend in with the crowd’ and the resulting
invasion of her privacy.
It is notable that a number of themes
overlap with those outlined in K’s case study
above, including the painfulness of the disfig-
uring condition. K reports feelings of ‘extreme
self consciousness’ and intense pain which
could isolate her from her peer group. When
the pain became intense she preferred to be
alone in a quiet place. Her close friends under-
stood this, but other members of her peer

group avoided and shunned her. Feelings of self
consciousness were also reported by Toni later
in the interview. She recognised that whilst
most young people feel self conscious in adoles-
cence, she experienced particular difficulties in
aspiring to the same ideals and goals as her
peers, for example wanting to look like a
‘popstar.’
It is notable for these young women, that
the operations and surgical interventions would
certainly have affected opportunities to make
friends, and to develop both group affiliations
and individual friendships. There is some
suggestion that conceptions of friendship differ
for young men and women during adolescence.
Young women are more likely than men to
describe a best friend as someone with whom
they can share intimate information (Bernt,
1992). Females may also prefer socialising in
smaller groups compared to males (Savin-
Williams, 1980), and are less apt to befriend a
new person into their close group of friends. In
this context, it may be difficult for young
women with a facial disfigurement to enter the
often rather private and exclusive world of her
female peers, or for her to find a way of joining
a small friendship group.
The above accounts provide a real insight
into young woman’s experiences of living with
a facial disfigurement. Whilst the similarities
in experiences were discussed, it is important
to note the differences also, especially with
regard to educational attainment and experi-
ence.
K’s evaluation by a psychologist when she was
20 was that she was ‘highly intelligent and
motivated academically and in her work’.
However, it was noted that eventually her
academic achievement was impaired by her
inability to concentrate, and at best having
only intermittent periods of being able to func-
tion socially. By contrast, Toni reported having
recently gained a place to study for a nursing
degree and having a strong sense of self belief,
which had carried her through difficult times.
Clearly more research evidence is needed to
discover what difficulties young women with a
Jess Prior & Andrea Price
facial disfigurement have experienced, what
interventions are effective or desired, and any
factors that may contribute to young women’s
resiliency and success in adolescence and
beyond.
Responses of others
There is only a relatively small amount of
research concerning perceptions and attribu-
tions about those with a facial disfigurement
(Rumsey & Bull, 1986). People of all ages pay
close attention to the facial appearance of
others, and it has been suggested that even
young children of about eight years of age
make negative judgements about others with a
facial disfigurement (Bull & Rumsey, 1988).
Research suggests that other children may
respond to a child with a disfiguring condition
by preferring not to chose them as a
companion, as well as differential treatment in
terms of ‘patterns of ignoring, avoiding and
teasing’ (Knudson-Cooper, 1981, cited in
Bradbury 1993). Adolescents may make nega-
tive attributions about the person with a facial
disfigurement, including seeing them as less
attractive, friendly, happy or socially skilled
than ‘normal’ individuals (Elliot, Bull, James &
Lansdown, 1986, cited in Long & DeVault,
1990) and less confident and sociable (Bull &
David, 1986, cited in Long & DeVault, 1990).
It appears that the attribution
of these negative traits apply to both young
men and women with a facial dis-figurement.
One paper used an ingenious method to
explore young peoples attitudes to disfigure-
ment. Kleck and Strenta (1985) asked partici-
pants to view a photograph of their own face,
which had been altered to give the appearance
of a facial scar. Overall, females responded more
negatively than the males to seeing the image
of themselves shown with a disfigurement,
choosing negative emotional labels such as
shock, disgust, distress and fright (50 per cent
females, vs 22 per cent of males). It was
reported that 41 per cent of the males
responded with humour, but none of the 47
females in this study responded by using
 Gender issues in facial disfigurement
humour. Without further experimentation it is
hard for researchers to interpret this apparent
gender difference in young people’s perception
of themselves with a ‘mock’ disfigurement.
One explanation is that there is a real difference
in negative self-perception according to gender,
with young women regarding the disfigure-
ment as more serious and shocking. An alter-
native explanation is that the males did not
wish to show concern about their physical
appearance or discuss their feelings with the
experimenter. The gender difference here may
not be that of perceptions or attributions, but
rather in the willingness to discuss the feelings
or emotions that a disfigurement might cause.
It should be remembered that it is unclear how
these responses from young people without a
facial disfigurement may differ from those with
a facial scar.
One further topic which requires mention
here is that of teasing and bullying - a diffi-
culty faced by many young people with a facial
disfigurement. Pertschuk and Whitaker (1982)
report that in their interviews with 51 young
people, many reported teasing. However
gender issues were not addressed in this paper.
Changing Faces, a charity who work with
people with facial disfigurements reported
about 11 per cent of their enquiries in 1998
concerned teasing , name-calling, bullying,
taunting and other nasty behaviour (Frances,
2000). Name-calling and bullying were
reported by both of the young women in the
cases outlined above. K stated that she was
called ‘a bitch’ and that ‘people made fun of my
face and classified me as a bitch because I
wouldn’t talk’. In this case, she attributed the
name calling to her wish to be quiet and soli-
tary when in pain, which was interpreted nega-
tively by her peers. ‘Toni’ also stated that on
‘several occasions people were cruel and nasty.’
Frances (2000) outlines the work of the
Changing Faces Schools Service in tackling
name-calling and bullying. She recommends
that whilst there is a clear need to tackle the
48 children who are perpetrating the hurtful
behaviours, it is also important to teach the
pupil with the disfiguring condition some
practical strategies for taking action. One of
the strategies, called ‘self talk’, includes
teaching children positive phrases to say to
themselves. It is notable that ‘Toni’ discussed
using this kind of strategy, which she found
very helpful. She explained: ‘You go beyond it
… I know I’m better than that. They’re not as
good as how good I think
I am.’
More research is needed on any gender
differences in bullying and hurtful behaviours,
both in terms of prevalence and responses from
the pupils concerned.
Research issues
In quantitative research, there is a lack of
agreement by researchers concerning appro-
priate methodology, rating scales and goals of
research concerning facial disfigurement
(Bradbury, 1993). In many cases the gender of
the participants is not reported or analysed, in
part because it is a dichotomous variable and
unsuitable for advanced statistical tests
(Newell & Marks, 2000). The opportunity to
explore complex or difficult aspects of gender
and disfigurement may well be lost in quanti-
tative, multi-factoral research designs. Where
the gender of the participant is reported, it is
frequently only one variable out of many, and
often no further detailed discussion about
gender is included.
The problem of using an opportunity
sample is also a real difficulty facing researchers
who are interested in gender issues. Sample
sizes can become too small, and gender differ-
ences can be masked by differing numbers of
male and female participants. The heteroge-
neous nature of facial disfigurements and
impairments also presents real difficulties to
researchers. Many disfiguring conditions are so
rare that accumulating a large enough group to
permit detailed analysis can be difficult. This
can result in young women with different
malformations being grouped together, causing
confounding variables and results that are
misleading or difficult to interpret. Bradbury

(1993) suggests that our understanding of the
psychological consequences of disfigurement is
limited by small research samples frequently
comprising of those with a cleft condition,
which is the most common cause of a facial
disfigurement. Often, these young people are
recruited from medical centres where they may
presumably have already received various forms
of treatment, intervention and support.
For qualitative researchers, a real difficulty
facing researchers who may wish to explore the
area of gender and facial disfigurement includes
the understandable reluctance of people to
discuss or admit their treatment by others. It is
difficult to directly address the very sensitive
issues of rejection, prejudice, or discrimination
that young women have experienced, despite
that fact that the evidence suggests that many
negative attitudes and behaviours may occur to
people with facial disfigurements. However,
Lansdown, Lloyd and Hunter (1991) in a study
of children admitted for plastic surgery have
had a different experience as researchers.
Whilst it might be assumed that it would be
painful for young people to discuss negative
experiences such as being stared at, their
participants were pleased to have the opportu-
nity to discuss their difficulties with a sympa-
thetic outsider. Excellent protocols and
guidelines now exist for undertaking sensitive
research, (McCosker, Barnard & Gerber, 2001)
and there is a clear need for more sensitive, and
appropriate research and for inclusion of young
women with a facial disfigurement in the
research process.
In conclusion, it is worth considering the
main gaps in the literature on disfigurement
and gender. Our understanding of the many
psychosocial effects of disfigurement for young
women remains incomplete. There is a clear
need for more systematic research into many
aspects of gender and disfigurement in young
adulthood, and frequent mention has been
made throughout this paper to avenues of
research which require further investigation. In
particular, many key developmental questions
concerning this period of the lifespan,
Jess Prior & Andrea Price
including issues of sexuality, personal relation-
ships, the family environment, treatment by
others, and development of self-concept in
young women, are little researched or under-
stood. At present any researcher undertaking a
review of the literature concerning gender and
disfigurement is faced with the difficult task of
extracting small fragments of text, often just a
few lines in length, from many hundreds of
sources. The literature on gender and disfigure-
ment comes from the fields of medicine and
surgery, psychology, sociology, counselling,
education, and women’s studies. It is perhaps
unsurprising that our knowledge of young
women living with a facial disfigurement
appears equally
fragmentary.
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Dr J e s s Prio r is a Senior Lecturer in

Developmental Psychology at London Metropolitan
University.

Ms And re a J . Pric e is an
undergraduate intern student on an exchange
programme from the
United States.

51

Constructing womanhood
across the lifespan: The
example of the transition
to higher education
Sally Johnson, University College Northampton.
Until recently psychology has failed to pay serious
attention to the benefits of bringing a life course
perspec tive to explorations of womanhood. This
article seeks to address this gap by drawing on data
from an ethnographic study of women in transition
to higher education. Qualitative data were collected
through diaries, interviews and participant observa-
tion. Analysis was based on a grounded theory
approach. A life course perspective gives emphasis to
issues of individuality and of family, within a social
and historical context. Women’s roles as carers as
well as their relationships with male partners were
dominant themes, particularly in reference to family
life course trajec tories.
My analysis highlights how dominant constructions
of womanhood provide the social and historical
context for individual lives and demonstrates the
differential implic ations of gender for women
across the lifespan and in life course transitions.
With regard to feminist practice, this analysis could
lead to more targeted support, for instance, in the
example used here, by educational providers, as well
as allowing for the potential to challenge dominant
constructions of woman.
Women and the lifespan
T IS ONLY recently that a life course perspec-
I tive has been applied to explorations of
womanhood in psychology. Lifespan
psychology aims to understand individual
52 development, from conception to death. It has
been argued that this has been done in two
Papers
ways: person-centred (holistic) and function-
centred approaches (Baltes, Staudinger &
Lindenberger, 1999). The holistic or life cycle
approach attempts to connect age or states of
development into an overall pattern of indi-
vidual lifetime development in physical,
psychological and social terms (Baltes et al.,
1999; Pilcher, 1995), whereas the function-
centred approach focuses on a category of
behaviour or a mechanism e.g. perception,
personality traits, attachment (Baltes et al.,
1999). It is the holistic approach which will be
the main focus of this article.
Key examples of the life cycle approach in
psychology are the theories of Erikson (1950),
and Levinson, Darrow, Klein, Levinson and
McKee, (1978) and Levinson (1996). The life
cycle approach has its roots in biological and
developmental psychology. It is argued that
people change physically, psychologically and
socially as they move through a sequence of
stages in the life cycle: from infancy, through
childhood, adolescence, adulthood to old age.
Erikson (1950) theorised eight ego stages
where bipolar conflicts have to be resolved
before progress to the next stage can be made.
Each stage relates to a specific time of life, with
the first five occurring during childhood and
adolescence and the final three in adulthood.
Levinson (1996) sees the life cycle as a sequence
of eras, each having its own bio-psycho-social
character that makes a distinctive contribution
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 52–64
ISSN: 1466–3724

to the whole. He says that there are major
changes from one era to the next but that they,
in part, overlap and there can changes within a
specific era. These eras are age related. The
concept of life structure is central to this theory
which Levinson defines as ‘the underlying
pattern or design of a person’s life at a given
time’ (1996, p.22).
These kind of life cycle theories have been
criticised for neglecting the social context.
Pilcher (1995) argues that ‘the main weakness
of the life cycle concept are argued to lie in its
universalistic, deterministic, asocial and an
historical tendencies’ (p.18). However, these
theories do incorporate a social dimension. For
instance, in his more recent work on women’s
lives, Levinson (1996) uses the concept of
‘gender splitting’ to theorise the pervasiveness
of rigid divisions between male and female, and
masculine and feminine. But conceptualising
the lifespan as a series of stages that individuals
move through may fail to account for the way
in which experience is socially constructed and
dependant upon social interaction.
An alternative to these psychological
theories is that of a life course perspective
which originates from sociology but also takes
an holistic approach, and is becoming more
popular with some psychologists (e.g. Baltes et
al., 1999). Life course theory is a way of
analysing developmental processes and human
lives in their social and lifespan contexts
(Elder, 1997). It consists of three levels of
analysis: individual time; social time; and histor-
ical time (Elder, 1979). Additionally, family
time, has been argued to be a further level for
analysis (Hareven, 1982). Rather than biolog-
ical and social inevitability, irrespective of
individual differences associated with a partic-
ular ‘age or stage’, the life course perspective
focuses on the interaction of the individual
with social structures, which change histori-
cally (Allatt & Keil, 1987). It is a way of
following paths or trajectories people take
through their lives and analysing how these are
influenced by social and historical factors.
Both early and more recent psychological
Sally Johnson
studies of women’s lives show the importance
of this interaction. For instance, Neugarten
(1968 as cited in Gergen, 1980, p.35) argued
that changes in the demands for paid labour
can influence the way ‘female personality’
unfolds. More recently, Chatham-Carpenter
and DeFrancisco’s (1998) demonstrate how
women’s construction of self-esteem can
change across the lifespan and that this can be
in positive ways. For instance, the women in
their study indicated a greater acceptance and
enjoyment of self as they got older, while
physical decline and the cultural construction
of ageing could harm self-esteem. In another
recent article Stewart and Ostrove (1998)
review five US studies of college-educated
women currently in middle-age and highlight
the importance of the construction of gender
and issues pertinent to ‘personality’ for the
particular generation involved. However,
generally there is a lack of theorising in rela-
tion to the psychology of women from a life
course perspective.
In this article the example of the transition
to a programme of higher education is used to
illustrate the construction of women’s identity
in the context of the lifespan and life course
transitions1 in order to address this gap. Whilst
I recognise there have been several studies in
recent years which highlight issues of identity
and life trajectories in relation to mature
women students (e.g. Britton & Baxter, 1999;
Parr, 2000; Raey, 2002), the focus here is on
higher education as an example of a life course
transition rather than the specific context for
theoretical development. The material I will be
using comes from a larger project on the tran-
sition of mature women students to a
programme of professional higher education
which formed my PhD research. Three areas
related to women’s family life trajectories will
be explored, they are motherhood, caring for
elderly relatives and the women’s relationships
with their male partners. My aim is to use life
course theory to analyse women’s experience2 of
a life course transition and to explore the impli- 53
cation of this analysis for practice.
 Constructing womanhood across the lifespan
Outline of the research project
I adopted a reflexive ethnographic approach
combined with a particular
feminist-standpoint perspective to investigate
the period of transition to higher education
over two consecutive years. Ethnography is
concerned with the researcher’s participation in
people’s daily lives for an extended period of
time, collecting whatever data are available to
throw light on issues of concern. It is reflexive
because the researcher cannot ‘escape the social
world in order to study it’ (Hammersley &
Atkinson, 1983, p.15), therefore it is about
analysing how the researcher is affected by the
social situation they are investigating and what
affect they have upon it.3 Certain widely agreed
tenets informed the research process from a
feminist-standpoint perspective, particularly
the focus on women’s lives and the develop-
ment of theoretical frameworks based on this
(Griffin, 1995).
To ensure a prolonged and substantial
involvement I adopted a multi-methods, two
phase design, over two consecutive academic
years (1993/1994 and 1994/1995). This was
over a period of approximately six weeks before
the students began their programme to just
over eight weeks after they had been at the
University. I refer to this period as the transi-
tion to the programme. The participants were
women who were beginning one of three
programme of professional education in the
areas of social work and health care studies at
one of the new universities in the North of
England. Most were undergraduates but a few
of the health studies students were undertaking
a postgraduate programme. There was a
mixture of both full- and part-time students.
Women were approached and asked to partici-
pate in the research. The names of all those who
volunteered have been changed and pseudo-
1
Baltes (1987) states that psychologists tend to prefer to use the term lifespan whereas sociologists tend to use
the term life course but, as Baltes does, I will use these terms interchangeably.
2
In this context women’s experience refers to the ways in which the women make sense of their lives and the
54 events in which they are involved.
nyms used to protect their identity. The
proportion of women taking the three
programmes was approximately 85 per cent.
The students were all classed as mature (over
21 on entry for undergraduate courses and over
25 for postgraduate, Department for
Education, 1994). University statistics of the
age range of the students showed that they
were mainly in their late 20s, 30s and over 40,
with the largest proportion being in their 30s
(see Table 1). Women involved in the study
were representative of this pattern.
Demographic data gathered showed that most
participants were married or living with a
partner and a substantial number had children,
mostly below the age of 21.
Qualitative methods of data collection were
used and included participant observation, the
keeping of loosely structured diaries by students
over their introductory period and informal
interviews. As a parti-cipant observer I became
involved in both formal and informal settings
over the first few weeks of the programmes. I
asked the new students to keep loosely struc-
tured diary during the introductory element of
their course. They were asked to record what
activities they had been involved in on a daily
basis, what had been useful or not useful and
what would have been useful. At the end of the
period, they were asked for their overall impres-
sions of the introductory period, whether they
felt prepared and space for any other comments
(166 out of a possible 292 were completed,
which represents a satisfactory 57 per cent).
Diaries were given out to all students which
meant that some male students also completed
them. Forty informal interviews with women
were conducted. In the first phase, 20 inter-
views were conducted just before the women
began their programmes. The focus was on their
expectations of beginning their course. These

Table 1: Age range of students on the three programmes 1993/1994.
Age range Number
20–24
25–29
30–40
40+
Total
women were randomly selected in proportion to
the number expected to enrol on each of the
programmes and from those who had been
offered a place at the University. In the second
phase a further 20 interviews were conducted a
few weeks into the programmes and women
were asked about their experiences of beginning
their course. The second phase represented a
more focused exploration of issues of relevance
to women. Purposive sampling was therefore
used based on preliminary analysis of the phase
two participant observation and diaries.
Women were selected based on whether they
specifically mentioned issued related to being
responsible or caring for others. Whilst this
may not represent the spectrum of issues of rele-
vance in the transition to higher education, it
allowed for a detailed exploration of aspects
identified as being of relevance to women in the
first phase of the study.
Data analysis was partly based on a
grounded theory approach (Glaser & Strauss,
1967). This involves close and detailed inspec-
tion of the phenomenon under investigation.
Attention is paid to participants’ own accounts
of social and psychological events and their
associated local phenomenological and social
worlds. The aim is to generate theory that is
grounded in these accounts. Data were there-
fore systematically analysed to ascertain emer-
gent themes. Open coding (Strauss & Corbin,
1990) was initially used in that a list of codes
was devised around features of the data
collected. Codes were systematically applied to
the transcribed interviews, participant observa-
tion field notes and diaries. Data were then
explored to generate broader, more analytic
axial codes (Strauss & Corbin, 1990). In
Sally Johnson
Percentage
10 6
47 27
77 44.5
39 22.5
173 100
contrast to psychological theories of transition,
I concluded that the overarching theme was
one of continuity. Aspects of continuities, in
terms of what women ‘bring’ from the spheres
they are involved in outside higher education,
for example, as wives, mothers and women,
centrally impinge upon their sense of who they
are and their current situation. It is these conti-
nuities that influence the women’s ability to
manage the transition to a programme of
higher education (see Johnson & Robson, 1999
for a fuller discussion). In a subsequent analysis
presented here I theorise these issues in terms
of a life course perspective as it seems a useful
way of conceptualising the emergent issues. It
highlights the interactive nature of the
women’s individual lives within the time in
which they live as well as their interaction with
social practices and structures. Therefore it
allows for an exploration of the meaning of
gender in life course transitions.
The life course and family life
trajectories
Life course theory is said to be an emerging
paradigm for analysing developmental
processes and human lives which takes account
of lifespan development in the social context
(Elder, 1997). It consists of three levels of
analysis: individual time, consisting of age and
stage of development; social time, consisting of
the roles people fulfil and the meanings
ascribed to them by society; and historical time,
the period and events a person lives through
(Elder, 1979). Additionally, Hareven (1982)
uses the concept of family time which includes
the timing of events such as marriage, the birth 55
of a child, etc. As Hareven puts it: ‘A life course
 Constructing womanhood across the lifespan
perspective views the interrelationships
between individual and collective family
behaviour as they constantly change over
people’s lives and in the context of historical
conditions. A life course approach is concerned
with the movement of individuals over their
own lives and through historical time and with
the relationship of family members to each
other as they travel through personal and
historical time’ (p.6).
It is, therefore, a way of following paths or
trajectories people take through their lives and
analysing how these are influenced by social
and historical factors. Transitions are central to
life course theory. It is concerned with how
individuals and families make transitions into
different life stages and the interrelationships
and connections between stages (Hareven,
1982). In essence the life course refers to ‘the
interweaving of age-graded social trajectories’,
it is ‘a series of linked states’ in which a change
in status marks a transition (Elder, 1997, p.48).
Elder emphasises though that transitions are
always embedded in trajectories which give
them meaning and form. Additionally, early
transitions are seen as having implications for
the way in which later ones are experienced
(Pilcher, 1995).
In a sociologically-orientated book, Allatt,
Keil, Bryman and Bytheway (1987) present a
collection of papers on the life cycle in relation
to women, and specifically their participation
in the labour market. They focus on transitions
and turning points and argue that these show
the importance of gender relationships at
various junctures, demonstrating how the
private and public spheres are gender specific
and ‘controlled and influenced by cultural
dictates and structural constraints’ (Allatt &
Keil, 1987, p.2). By focusing on the implica-
tions of the construction of womanhood for
identity, I hope to demonstrate the relevance of
a life course perspective to the psychology of
women.
56 Motherhood
Many women involved in the present study
were mothers (for instance, nearly three-quar-
ters of those who were interviewed).
Motherhood may be seen as an individual life
choice associated with family time, however, its
popularity amongst women could also be
argued to be associated with the social norms of
a particular historical period. For instance,
Nicolson (1992) has highlighted the impor-
tance of motherhood in contemporary society
in order to achieve healthy womanhood. The
implications of being a mother were something
that seemed central for many women as they
began their programme of higher education.
For example, on the first day of one of the
programmes I was sat next to a woman and I
asked her how things were going. She said that:
‘Sorting out everything before I came was hard, espe-
cially the children. There is so much to get sorted out.
I saw them off on the bus this morning for the first
time ever and that was hard.’
She asked me if I had a family, I said ‘not
yet’ but told her that I was pregnant. We
discussed having children and it seemed that
her children were a particularly important
aspect of her life, and one which she was
continually considering in relation to begin-
ning her programme.
During the third week of one of the
programmes I started a conversation with
Gwen (a single parent with three teenage
children). I asked her how she was getting on
and she told me that she had ‘not got off to a
very good start’. The previous week she had had
‘problems’ with her oldest child who she said
was depressed and hearing voices. Whilst at
home the previous Wednesday (the study day
for the programme) they had had an argument
and she had ‘chucked’ him out of the house.
They had resolved their differences since then
but she was still very concerned about him. In
the interview I conducted with Gwen a few
weeks later she said that she felt well prepared
academically and her previous work experience
had helped her tremendously but she said ‘my
home life has been horrendous’. She talked again
about her son and how: ‘All of a sudden he
appeared to be mentally ill and he got progressively

worse, didn’t sleep during the night which disturbed
me, frightened my other two children enormously and
just dominated home life for a couple of weeks.’
She had taken him to see a psychiatrist and
he was diagnosed with a serious mental health
problem. Gwen said: ‘The worry was huge but the
disruption and the chaos which it caused me at the
time when I thought I had planned everything. I got
myself into a situation where I felt as though it was
my time and then lo and behold he …I was resentful
of the intrusion.’
Gwen uses the term ‘my time’ which could be
interpreted as personal time within a life course
perspective. Within the trajectory of her own
life and family situation she had reached a
point when she could take a course of higher
education. The social and historical milieu also
meant that this was possible. However, her
transition to higher education intersected with
a major family transition which meant that her
role as a mother took precedence. When I asked
her later on in the interview how she felt about
being involved in my research she replied: ‘I
think my experience with (son’s name) has been an
exception but also it has happened and it has been
difficult for me at the beginning of a course so it’s
very valid and it gives me a chance to record that, a
warning to other people that it can happen …you
don’t just come as a separate unit, you come with all
the baggage which you have accumulated …and if
you have children their needs always come first, you
are not separate from them even though the course
may look upon you as an individual, you’re not …the
demands of home still take precedence often and
more so for single parents.’
A substantial minority of the women wrote
about issues directly related to their family in
their diaries, whereas none of the men did. The
relevance of this aspect of women’s lives at this
time is emphasised because I did not specifi-
cally request such details. There were many
instances, apparent in all the data collection
methods, where, particularly women, talked to
me about their families and considered their
children in the context of the transition to their
programme, without prompting.
Life course theory emphasises the impor-
Sally Johnson
tance of dominant social constructions of iden-
tity in specific historical periods. Current
dominant constructions identified by theorists,
which are particularly relevant here, are the
importance of family life in order to achieve
healthy womanhood (Nicolson, 1992;
Woollett, 1996), women’s sense of connected-
ness to others (Gilligan, 1977, 1982, 1993)
and the predominant use by women of
discourses structured around self-in-relation as
opposed to individualistic discourses (Britton
& Baxter, 1999). However, the main issues and
concerns expressed in relation to having
children appeared to be different depending
upon the ages of children. Nearly all those
interviewed with younger children mentioned
child care as an issue in the transition to their
programme. Most of these spoke of the impor-
tance of having good and flexible child care or
support with child care. For a few child care
was one of the major concerns as it involved
making new arrangements. For instance, Jackie
(who had three children under 10) had written
in her diary, on the first day of her programme,
that she felt confident about undertaking the
programme as she had studied at the
University the previous year, however, she then
wrote: ‘Overriding worry – had left new babysitter
picking up children from school and looking after
them, would she cope?(one has diabetes). Rang at 5.00
p.m., no reply, panic! Back home at 7.00 p.m. to find
three kids and babysitter standing outside with
vicar who is a neighbour – further panic! Power cut
for hours. Actually they had coped very well! What
could go wrong next week!!’
When I asked her about this incident in her
interview she said: ‘The main thing really has been
organising the family and that’s been a problem and
it’s been a worry while I’ve been there (at the
University), wondering if they’ll all be all right.’
A few said that because they got support
from their husbands or families, child care
arrangements were not such a problem.
However, by talking about child care the
women were demonstrating that dominant
constructions of womanhood involve the 57
assumption that it is women’s duty to take
 Constructing womanhood across the lifespan
responsibility for child care. It has been argued
that in all Western industrial societies it is still
mainly women who are responsible for young
children (David, Edwards, Hughes & Ribbins,
1993). As in the present study this dominant
construction of womanhood has been noted as
having an impact on the transition to
programmes of higher education (see, for
instance, Edwards, 1993). Some theorists
generalise about these issues as seemingly
being of relevance to all mature women
students. For instance, McGivney (1993)
argues that lack of child care is one of the major
‘obstacles’ for women becoming involved in
higher education. However, in the present
study certain issues related to motherhood were
only associated with those with younger
children.
In terms of individual and family time
having younger children is something that
generally falls to women in younger adulthood,
although a sizable minority are now leaving
motherhood until later in their lives. Most of
the women interviewed who had younger
children were either in their late 20s or in their
30s. In terms of social time Neugarten, Moore
and Lowe (1965) found there to be consensus as
to the most appropriate time for certain life
events, for example, marriage, having children,
becoming grandparents. However, similar
studies in 1980s (e.g. Neugarten & Neugarten,
1986) showed that the degree of consensus had
declined. This demonstrates how things can
change historically. With the development of
reproductive technologies it is now possible for
women to have children post-menopausally.
However, recent public debates have been
largely negative about women having children
in their fifties and sixties. This indicates that
such life events are more socially acceptable at
a particular time in the life course.
For women with older children the issues
seemed somewhat different. Again it is more
likely, because of social expectations, that
women with older children will be entering, or
58 in, midlife. The women interviewed in the
present study with older children were mainly
in their forties. Returning to the example of
Gwen (a single parent with three teenage
children), when she told me about her eldest
son’s serious mental health problems which
coincided with her beginning her programme,
she said: ‘It has reverted to a much more demanding
situation than when they were younger.’
Though this was an extreme example, a few
others also spoke of their teenage children
being particularly ‘demanding’. Also the
accounts suggest that older children can
require support at specific times, for example,
because they are taking important qualifica-
tions themselves. As discussed earlier, domi-
nant constructions of womanhood dictate that
women are expected to take the main respon-
sible for younger children. This construction
was also evident in the accounts of women with
older children, however, the issues associated
with older children can be somewhat different
to those associated with younger children. In a
study of students undertaking a similar
programme to one of those involved in the
present study, Dewar, Hill and MacGregor
(1995) tentatively suggest that one of the main
factors associated with being less successful on
the programme was having teenage children.
This seems to challenge common sense ideas
that it is younger children who may make it
more difficult for women to progress in other
life course trajectories. It suggests that, because
of the dominant construction of women being
responsible for children, older children can also
have a major impact on women’s other life
course trajectories, but for different reasons.
These issues demonstrate the interactive
nature of women’s experience through the life
course. Women’s individual time in terms of
their age and stage of development interacts
with family time and these are influenced by
current dominant constructions of mother-
hood. These interactions have the capacity to
influence women’s other life course trajectories,
in the case of the present study these are educa-
tional and professional, and potentially inhibit
them. Therefore, a life course perspective
allows for an analysis of how dominant

constructions of motherhood can impede
women’s progression in other life course trajec-
tories in different ways, at different times of the
life course.
Caring for elderly relatives
It is often assumed that care is related to
children but women are increasingly involved
in the care of elders as well. As women age they
are more likely to become carers for elderly
relatives and this was the case, and had impli-
cations for a few women in the study reported
here. Three of the women interviewed had the
responsibility of caring for elderly relatives
which they spoke of as putting extra demands
upon them. Additionally one women wrote in
her diary: ‘Could not attend session today, had to
accompany father on out-patients appointment, feel a
little panicky that aged parents may need more help
over the next couple of years and the implications of
that to giving the best to the course.’
The women interviewed, who expressed
concerns about caring for ageing relatives, were
all in their 40s. It is likely that this kind of
responsibility is one that falls to women as they
get older. As Yvonne put it, ‘if you take a course
when you are older there is a greater possibility of
looking after an elderly relative’. The timing of
life events across the life course and the social
expectations as to the ‘best time’ for certain
family life transitions means that this responsi-
bility is therefore likely overlap for women
with older children. This example of women
becoming carers for elderly relatives also illus-
trates dominant constructions of womanhood.
Marsden and Abrams (1987) argue that caring
is seen as an inevitability and a duty for
women, they say that the feelings and demands
involved create the ‘structured dependency’ of
the elderly and the subordination of women
which therefore have consequences for other life
course trajectories.
Women’s relationships with
male partners
Another relevant aspect of identity for the
women in the present study was their relation-
Sally Johnson
ship with their husband or male partner.
Thirty-two of the 40 women interviewed were
married or living with a male partner. Over a
quarter of those without children but who lived
with a man spoke of the ‘demands’ of running
a home.
For instance, Fiona (aged between 20 and
24 with no children) said: ‘I think it’s stressful
trying to balance work, coming to university and
your homelife.’
Fiona, who had just got married, told me
that one of the hardest things about starting
the programme had been establishing new
‘boundaries’ with her husband. She said her
husband had wanted her to take the
programme and was supportive but had not
realised how much time this would take up.
She said: ‘He did find it hard at first because he does
like a lot of my attention and we only got married in
September.’
She said ‘the first month (of the course) was
terrible’; she had found it hard to study at home
as her husband was constantly interrupting her.
It has been argued that being married, or
thinking about marrying, can be an important
factor in impeding women’s paid work trajecto-
ries, in that women are expected to take respon-
sibility for domestic arrangements and defer to
men in terms of their occupational trajectories
(Bird & West, 1987). In the transition in a
woman’s life course, from being single to being
married, dominant constructions of woman-
hood can be drawn upon which compel women
to take responsibility for their relationship with
a man, as well as domestic tasks.
Over a quarter of those I interviewed who
were married or lived with a partner spoke of
the effects, or worries about the potential
effects, that being involved in education might
have upon their relationship. In anticipating
the transition, women spoke of being worried
that undertaking the programme might put a
‘strain’ on their relationship. For instance,
Phyllis (who had been married for 19 years)
said: ‘I’m worried about my husband, he feels I will
be leaving him behind because there’ll be other 59
people to talk to.’
 Constructing womanhood across the lifespan
Dominant discourses of womanhood and
being a wife were evident in accounts. As many
women were married or living with a male
partner this implies that this is an important
aspect of women’s lives. Nicolson (1992) high-
lights how family life is constructed as the key
way in which healthy womanhood can be
achieved, with marriage (and motherhood) seen
as the desirable lifestyle for women. It has also
been argued that a dominant idea is that women
defer to men in terms of household responsibili-
ties and that this means it is more difficult for
them to succeed in the public sphere (Allatt &
Keil, 1987). The issues raised in the concurrent
transitions in life course trajectories can mean
that it is easier to revert to dominant ideas about
womanhood and family life and lessen the impor-
tance of succeeding in the public sphere.
Conclusions
I have outlined how dominant constructions of
womanhood have implications for women at
different times in the life course, using the
example of the transition to higher education.
These include marriage and family life as being
seen as important to healthy womanhood, a
discourse of self-in-relation, and women as
responsible for the family and domestic
arrangements. A further theme that runs
through family life trajectories for the women
in the present study is the construction of
women as carers. It has been argued that tradi-
tional expectations of women as caregivers can
lead women into patterns of ‘serial caregiving’
(Logue, 1993 as cited in Durkin, 1995, p.636),
that is they provide domestic support not only
for husbands but also children and potentially
a host of elderly relatives. Logue argues that
this can have an effect on women’s own health
and careers, and, by implication, their other life
course
trajectories.
In terms of feminist theory, a life course
perspective adds to our understanding of the
psychology of women, as it is useful in
60 analysing continuity and change across
women’s lives. It allows an exploration of
dominant constructions of womanhood which
provide the social and historical context for
individual lives. Such an analysis shows the
importance of these constructions for women’s
identity, as women, as well as others, assess
themselves in these terms. It is at times of
transition that a consideration of individual,
family, social and historical time is useful. The
emphasis in life course theory is on how these
elements interact and have implications for
each other. This addresses some of the weak-
nesses of traditional holistic lifespan theories
in psychology, as it allows for the situating of
women’s life choices within family relations
and temporal social constructions. As agency is
integral to the analysis it avoids being overly
biologically, developmentally or socially deter-
ministic. Life course theory therefore allows for
analysis and theorising in regard to the impli-
cations of gender across the lifespan and in life
course transitions.
With regard to feminist practice the appli-
cation of this interactive theory has highlighted
potential differences between women going
through a similar transition. This kind of
analysis could lead to more specific and targeted
support for women going through life course
transitions. My analysis has demonstrated the
relevance of prevailing constructions of woman-
hood at different times in women’s lives. It is
important to be aware of these differences and
support women accordingly. For instance, in the
example I have drawn upon of beginning a
programme of higher education, if institutions
wish to attract women they need to be aware of,
and meet, specific needs and not just assume
that all mature women students have similar
concerns. For instance, I have highlighted here
that child care is only an issue for those with
younger children. It is also important to recog-
nise that those with older children might
encounter different kinds of issues to those with
younger children and that as women age they are
more likely to have responsibilities for caring for
elderly relatives which may have implications
for them. It is also possible that women can be
in more that one of these trajectories. For

instance, one interviewee in the present study
had two younger and two teenage children. The
recognition of these potential differences as well
as individual assessment of the needs of women
in such transitions would allow for more
targeted support to be developed.
The life course perspective could be used in
analysing girls’ and women’s experience of
other life course transitions, thus making it
possible to develop practical recommendations
in other areas of their lives. However, one of the
main implications is that by conducting such
analyses it is possible to identify the implica-
tions of dominant ideologies for women’s indi-
vidual lives and it is these that also need to be
challenged.
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Acknowledgements
My thanks to Colin Robson and Judith Milner
for their advice throughout the research project
Horrocks for her suggestions on an earlier draft
of this article.
Also thanks to Serena Bufton and Jess Prior for
their helpful suggestions in reviewing this
article.
Correspondence
Dr Sally Johnson
Senior Lecturer in Psychology,
Psychology Division,
School of Behavioural Studies,
University College Northampton,
Park Campus, Boughton Green Road,
Northampton NN2 7AL.
Tel. 01604 735500 Ext. 2392
E-mail: sally.johnson@northampton.ac.uk
 Sally Johnson

Dr S a lly J o h ns o n began her academic

career at the age of 30 as a mature student at
Huddersfield University where she gained a BSc in
Behavioural Sciences. She continued at Huddersfield
University and gained a PhDwhich focused on
mature women students’ experiences of managing the
transition to programmes of professional higher
education. Sally also worked as a lecturer at
Huddersfield University before moving on, in 1997, to
a postdoctoral research post in the Psychology
Department at Hull University. In line with her long-
term interests in women’s reproductive health, this
post involved a large-scale study of women’s HRT
decisions after being diagnosed ‘at risk’ of
developing osteoporosis. Early in 1999 Sally took up
the position of lecturer in the Psychology Division at
University College Northampton. Her recent
research relates to body image during and after
pregnancy.

63
 Constructing womanhood across the lifespan

64

Agora: A more creative
forum for the academic/
practitioner/activist
Paula Reavey, Editor of the Agora section.
AGORA SECTION provides a space for
T HE
informal writing on all aspects of
academic, political or practical activities that
have particular relevance for the psychology of
women. In previous issues of the journal, Agora
has featured interviews with political activists
and voluntary workers and academic commen-
taries on psychology and feminism. Such a
diversity of work signifies a break with the
convention of so many academic journals that
refuse to acknowledge more creative forms of
writing and presentation. If we are to engage,
as a Section, with the variety of forms of expres-
sion that are used in daily life by women, there
has to be room for such forms of expression to
be made visible. As editor of the Agora section,
I would like to take this opportunity to invite
submissions* (between 500 and 2500 words)
that do not necessarily fit neatly with the usual
academic format of a journal article. You may
have ideas about someone you would like to
interview, such as a volunteer for an organisa-
tion, or a clinician who applies innovative
approaches when working with women. You
may also wish to write a commentary on a
recent media or political event.
Pieces for the Agora section can be as
creative and as innovative as you wish them to
be. They can be interviews, personal commen-
taries, academic observations, pieces containing
photography and even poetry. Some of the most
informative things I have ever read as an
academic have fallen outside of the ‘traditional’
* Submissions are subject to peer review.
Agora
academic genre (novels are a good example!),
which is why I am keen to encourage ‘alterna-
tive’ forms of presentation that offer the poten-
tial for a more creative and reflexive practice in
studies on the psychology of women.
In this edition of POWSR, I am delighted to
be able to offer a good example of such ‘alter-
native’ writing, as the author of the piece –
Lorna Renooy – is not an academic but is Head
of Client and Outreach Services for ‘Changing
Faces’;
a voluntary organisation that offers support to
people with facial disfigurement and education
to relevant health professionals and the media.
As this edition of POWSR is a special issue on
appearanc e, the editorial team decided to
include an Agora piece that was written by
someone who was working ‘in the field’, who
had had direct contact with this issue and who
could also offer a personal insight into what it
is like to live with a ‘different appearance’ in a
society that champions facial perfection and
synchronicity. To compliment this,
you will also find in this edition an example of
the advertising campaign, launched by
Changing Faces that gained national recogni-
tion when it was awarded ‘The Certificate of
Commendation, 2003’ for best black-and-
white press advertising, from the leading
magazine for the advertising sector – Campaign.
The images from the campaign, featuring
people with facial disfigurements, are evoca-
tive, unapologetic, bold and powerful retorts to
65
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 65–66
ISSN: 1466–3724
 Agora

mainstream media ideals of beauty and norma- London SE1 0AA.

tive perceptions of ‘difference’. The message Tel: 020 7815 6177
from this campaign is loud and clear; ‘my facial E-mail: reaveyp@lsbu.ac.uk
disfigurement does not define me, it is only a
part of me that fades into insignificance the
moment you look beyond it’.
Lorna’s piece for the Agora section speaks
to that message with conviction and political
insight.

Correspondence
Paula Reavey
Division of Psychology,
London South Bank University,
103 Borough Road,

66

Living with a different
appearance: Myths and
realities
Lorna Renooy, Changing Faces
E MET ONLY a few months ago. As we
W prepare our evening meal, we talk
about the different things that have happened
to us in our lives. We relish the delight of
discovery as we learn more about each other.
He tells me about growing up in Canada
and the many times his family moved after they
left Hong Kong. He tells me about his travels
in Asia in his 20s. One day, while standing at a
bus stop in Thailand, he looked around at the
sea of people surrounding him – each and every
person having black hair and almond shaped
eyes – and how he experienced something
unusual. He didn’t feel different. He felt a part
of the group.
As he said this, I was struck with the reali-
sation that there is no country in the world
where I could go and look like everyone else.
Even after multiple surgeries on my face to
correct a congenital disfigurement, I will
always stand out in a crowd.
My passion for my work stems from personal
experience. I was born with a condition that
caused the bones in my head and face to grow
much larger and thicker than is usual. For over
13 years,
I have worked on issues related to disfigure-
ment and disability, most recently as the Head
of Client and Outreach Services at Changing
Faces.
Changing Faces was started in 1992 by
James Partridge who was burned in a car acci-
dent at the age of 18. Re-entering the everyday
Agora
world after months of recovery in hospital, he
discovered that living with an unusual appear-
ance isn’t straightforward … Changing Faces
was established to make dealing with disfig-
urement a lot easier.
The Changing Faces team is made up of 17
staff. Our aim is threefold:
1. Working with children and adults and
their families
The Client and Outreach Services team offers
information, advice and support through one-
to-one counselling, and by telephone and
written correspondence. We offer workshops,
give talks to support groups, and disseminate a
variety of self-help resources produced by
Changing Faces.
2. Working with health and education
professionals
Professionals may contact us for advice about
an individual in their care, or they may seek
information for their general knowledge. We
offer Study Days on the psychosocial effects of
disfigurement, make presentations to groups of
professionals and attend conferences. Changing
Faces also works closely with the Centre for
Appearance Research at the University of West
England in Bristol.
3. Working with the wider society
We also work with employers, the media and
the general public to increase understanding,
and promote equal opportunities and a more
positive image of disfigurement. 67
Psychology of Women Section Review 2003, Vol. 5(2) 67–71
ISSN: 1466–3724
 Living with a different appearance
Why is our work so necessary? We can start to
answer this question by looking at the social
reality.
What is it like to live with a
different appearance?*
Social norms change when you look or sound
different. Perhaps the greatest challenge of
living with an unusual appearance is that one
tends not to have that sense of anonymity that
many people take for granted.
In public, you often get lingering looks or
outright stares, personal questions from
strangers or on occasion, unkind comments.
Simple, everyday activities – taking public
transport, shopping for groceries and getting a
haircut – can potentially be difficult because
you are subject to public scrutiny. It can mean
maintaining a near constant vigilance to either
avoid situations you find uncomfortable, or
find ways to deal with them.
Whether you like it or not, looking
different means you are highly visible and often
attract unwanted attention.
How do we perceive
disfigurement?
In our society, there is a lot of emphasis on a
particular standard of beauty and what is
considered attractive. At the same time, there
are also many myths about what it means to
live with a disfigurement. These myths distort
our views and lead to stereotyping.
The myth of bravery or the tragedy of
disfigurement
You have to be really brave to overcome the chal-
lenge of living with a disfigurement, or People with
disfigurements are victims of terrible circumstance.
Some people think that disfigurement is
just about the worst thing that could happen in
* When I use the words ‘unusual appearance’ or ‘disfigurement’, I am referring to a variety of conditions.
Some are present at birth (e.g. birthmarks, cleft lip and palate), acquired through trauma (e.g. burns, road traffic
68 accidents) or through illness (e.g. head and neck cancer). While some conditions are permanent, others may
change (e.g. acne, eczema, psoriasis).
life. Some may actually say ‘You must be so
brave to go out looking like that.’ Others may
make assumptions about your abilities – they
may speak very
s-l-o-w-l-y and/or very LOUDLY to you, or
worse yet, address your companion instead of
speaking to you directly.
They think they could not live looking
‘like that’. They are perhaps reminded of the
fragility of the body, of the uncertainty of life –
and so they classify people with disfigurements
as ‘the other’. They place them on a pedestal as
a source of inspiration, or safely away at arm’s
length as a source of pity. Either way, people
can safeguard themselves from any unpleasant
feelings that disfigurement may evoke.
The myth of malice or pathology
Having a disfigurement means having a damaged
personality.
In movies and other forms of popular media,
evil characters are almost always scarred/disfig-
ured/very unusual looking. Some would believe
that if you look different, there is something
inherently wrong with you. Your disfigure-
ment is like a stain on your soul. This results in
a fear of difference, and many negative assump-
tions about people who look (very) different.
The fact is, there are some people who just
happen to look different. They are ordinary
people who have hopes, challenges and seek
ways to lead fulfilling, satisfying lives as all
people do.
The myth of surgery
Surgery will ‘fix’ everything.
While medicine has made great advances,
people who have had reconstruction or plastic
surgery often have some residual visible differ-
ence such as scarring. Many have had as much
medical or surgical treatment as possible – or as

they desire – and have accepted their differ-
ence.
Subscribing to the belief that surgery will
‘fix’ everything is, in a word, unwise.
It not only makes it more challenging for
people who look different (strangers approach
you with well-intentioned advice about a new
technique they saw on TV …), it can also lead
to the belief that ‘fixing’ your face/body will
also ‘fix’ your life – whether you have a disfig-
urement or not.
The myth of attractiveness
You have to look great to be truly successful in life,
or If you look great, you can have it all.
In a society that equates concepts of beauty
and attractiveness with success,
it would seem that people with unusual appear-
ances are destined to lead second rate, substan-
dard lives. This is far from true and yet such
misconceptions are pervasive. People with
disfigurements have as many varied abilities
and achievements as people without disfigure-
ments – parents, teachers, health professionals,
waiters, performers, business people …
What role does appearance
play in social interaction?
Appearance has great personal and social signif-
icance. As a woman with a facial difference, I
am all too aware that looks do count. Often,
people make well-intentioned remarks such as
‘It is what is inside that is important, you just
have to look past the disfigurement’. This not
only invalidates my daily social experience but
also implies that the outside is unacceptable,
something that has to be glossed over.
I want to be valued as a whole person,
including how I look. My appearance is an
important part of who I am; it influences my
worldview, my values and how I interact with
others. The way we walk, talk and dress say
things about us. The choices I make with
regards to my hair, clothing, make-up, etc., can
be used to convey a message about how I’m
feeling.
A particular definition of attractiveness is
Lorna Renooy
also linked to social value, and while women
with disfigurements may be more vulnerable to
negative judgements we do have choices.
I have a strong memory of a woman
I saw on the bus one day. She sat comfortably in
her seat, her shirt collar open, her hair falling
softly around her shoulders. She was wearing
bright red lipstick and she also had very notice-
able burn scars on her chin and upper neck. In
my eyes, she was using her appearance to assert
her sexuality and she radiated confidence.
Our bodies are one of the main ways we have
of expressing ourselves. We use them to connect
with other people – through looks, gestures,
touch or conversation. When we communicate
(talking or listening) much of our attention is
directed at the central part of the face – a triangle
formed by the eyes, nose and mouth. We also
rely on facial expression and body language to
tell us about the emotions of others, so if the
person we are speaking to looks or sounds
different, our usual way of ‘reading’ and under-
standing responses can be affected.
Coming into contact with someone who
has disfigurement may be a new experience for
some people. The person without a disfigure-
ment may feel awkward, embarrassed,
confused, uncertain of where to look or how to
behave. He or she may be overwhelmed by
questions and thoughts: ‘If I look at her face,
will she think I’m staring?’ ‘If I look away, will
that be interpreted as rude?’ ‘What happened
to her?’ ‘Does it hurt? ‘Can I catch it?’
Similarly, the person who has a disfigure-
ment is likely to pick up on the other person’s
discomfort, and may also feel awkward, embar-
rassed, etc. Heightened sensitivity from being
under the public gaze can cause the person with
a
disfigurement to feel defensive and interpret
the other person’s behaviour as rejecting.
How do people cope?
People with disfigurements adopt a variety of
different strategies to cope, and there will not
be one ‘right’ way of dealing with any given 69
situation. It depends on how they are feeling,
 Living with a different appearance
the people involved, and the context.
People may choose to withdraw or avoid
social encounters. Many individuals with
disfigurements come to anticipate negative
reactions from others and may behave accord-
ingly. While avoidance to the point of isolation
is problematic, it is important to recognise that
being out in public can be taxing and taking
time out to ‘recharge’ and find some balance
can be beneficial.
Some people may use concealing make-up,
hairstyles or clothing to minimise their differ-
ence, and ‘pass’ as unaffected. However,
concerns that their hidden difference may
become visible or known to others can be a
source of anxiety.
Another option for a person who looks
different to take control of uncomfortable situ-
ations by making extra efforts to engage the
other person, using humour to break the ice,
smiling and being friendly, maintaining eye
contact, and employing other tried but true
strategies to make the interaction more
comfortable.
It is important to note that, contrary to
what may seem common sense, the severity of
the disfigurement is not an indicator of how
well a person will cope. What is important is
the type and variety of strategies an individual
uses, the presence of factors that facilitate posi-
tive coping, and life experiences.
People can be enriched by the experience of
disfigurement by gaining new insights and
skills (for example, greater empathy and sensi-
tivity, a greater understanding of communica-
tion, good ‘people skills’). How one copes is
highly individual.
What helps a person to cope?
People face different challenges at different
developmental periods across the life span.
Experiences in adolescence are intensified –
looking for a sense of identity and belonging,
seeking future directions. In adulthood the way
in which negative events are interpreted often
70 changes as people try to make sense of having a
disfigurement, and look for meaning in their
experience. Women and men may use different
processes to adjust (this is dependent on many
factors, and is an area for research) but the
factors that help them to cope – to tap into that
source of inner strength – are similar.
Social support is fundamentally important.
So much of how we see ourselves is influenced
by how we think others see us. When family,
friends and others in your community know,
accept and value you as a person, this provides
a sense of belonging and enables you to feel
better about yourself and your future. It helps
you to feel optimistic, and makes it easier to
deal with the impact of negative social experi-
ences.
Secondly, studies have shown that by
employing specific strategies and developing
certain skills to manage other people’s reac-
tions, people with disfigurements can better
deal with the difficulties they face. Handling
situations effectively helps to build and main-
tain confidence.
How does Changing Faces
approach disfigurement?
We encourage those who contact us to explore
their feelings, beliefs and behaviours, and
support people to (further) develop their skills
and insights so they can find their own ways of
dealing with stereotyping and stigma.
The way people think about disfigurement
guides their emotional and behavioural reac-
tions. While having good social skills can
mediate the impact of stigma, we also need to
change social perceptions.
At Changing Faces we seek to dismantle the
myths, increase understanding, change atti-
tudes and promote positive images of disfig-
urement. We are about changing the way you
face disfigurement, whether or not you have an
unusual appearance.
Further reading
Clarke, A. & Cooper, C. (2000). Psycho-social
rehabilitation after disfiguring injury or
disease: Investigating the training needs of
specialist nurses. Journal of Advanc ed
 Lorna Renooy

Nursing, 33(6), 1–9. Fax: 020 7706 4234

Clarke, A. (1999). Psychosocial aspects of facial Info@changingfaces.co.uk
disfigurement: Problems, management and www.changingfaces.co.uk
the role of a lay-led organisation. Psychology,
Health &Medicine, 4(2), 127–142.
Kish, V. & Lansdown, R. (2000). Meeting the
psychosocial impact of facial disfigure-
ment: Developing a clinical service for
children and families. Clinic al Child
Psychology and Psychiatry, 5(4), 497–511.
Kleve, L., Rumsey, N., Wyn-Williams, M. &
White, P. (2002). The effectiveness of
cognitive-behavioural interventions
provided at ‘Outlook’, a disfigurement
support unit. Journal of Evaluation in Clinical
Practice, 8(4), 387–394.
Lansdown, R., Rumsey, N., Bradbury, E., Carr,
A. & Partridge, J (Eds.) (1997). Visibly
different: Coping with disfigurement. London:
Butterworth Heinemann.
Lister, I. (2001). The psychology of facial disfig-
urement: A guide for health and social care
professionals. London: Changing Faces
Publications.
Partridge, J. (1998). Taking up Macgregor’s
challenge: The work of Changing Faces.
Journal of Burn Care and Rehabilitation,
March 1998.
Partridge, J. (1990). Changing faces: The chal-
lenge of fac ial Disfigurement. London:
Penguin.
Robinson, E., Rumsey, N. & Partridge, J.
(1996). An evaluation of the impact of
social interaction skills training for facially
disfigured people. British Journal of Plastic
Surgery, 1(49), 281–289.

Correspondence
Lorna Renooy
Changing Faces, 1 & 2 Junction Mews,
London W2 1PN.
Tel: 020 7706 4232

71
 When you’ve looked at
the ceiling, the coffee machine,
your shoes and the far wall,

look me in the eye

and say hello.

Changing Faces is a Registered Charity Number 1011222.

Photographer Andy Flack

Don’t feel bad. It’s a naturalorresponse

even smile. I won’t bite. We could talk about what
not to know where to look when if you like. Or we could discuss something more impo
meeting
weather,
someone with a facial disfigurement foror the price of fish.
the first time. Above all, don’t get put off. Meeting a complet
I’m used to having conversations with the side of people’sbusiness
difficult faces, or
at the best of times. You will find
the tops of their heads. I’ve even had people conductdoes
an entire discussion
get better.
through the person standing (next
Sometimes
to me.
even when I don’t
I’m still learning myself. So, until we meet
).
know the person standing next to me again, get a little practice in. Look me in the eye
What I’m saying is, don’t be scared. Make eye contact, shake
and say hands,
goodbye.

CHANGING FACES ,1 & 2 JUNCTION MEWS ,LONDON W 2 1PN . www.changingfaces.co.uk

72
Research Reviews
Parrenas, R.S. (2001). Mothering
from a distance: Emotions,
gender and inter-generational
relations in Filipino
transnational families. Feminist
Studies, 2, 361–390.
Re vie we d b y J o Ne a le
ARRENAS’ ARTICLE STANDS in contrast to
P much of the writing on migration, which
tends to look at trends and rather dry statistics.
She argues that increasing globalisation rein-
forces existing inequalities between developed
and developing countries, but also talks in
terms of the creation of a hybrid group, i.e.
women who ‘mother’ their children from
another country. Her paper movingly high-
lights the human element behind these facts
and figures, and explores the emotional impact
on individual family members. Using inter-
views with migrant Filipina domestic workers,
and the writings of children in a monthly
magazine catering for this group, Parrenas
explores the problems experienced by female-
headed Filipino trans-national families, and the
emotional consequences of mothering from a
distance. She then examines gender and inter-
generational relations through the lens of
emotion. Inevitably, the account presented here
is a partial one. I have chosen to focus on
aspects of the paper that highlight the
emotional impact of prolonged separation.
Parrenas suggests that increasing globalisa-
tion has led to the development of new identi-
ties for migrant Filipina workers with
dependent children. Although she does not use
the term ‘hybrid’ in referring to this group,
that is precisely what she is describing. She
suggests that mothers experience conflict
between their traditional gender role as
‘nurturer’ and their new identity of ‘bread-
winner’, a role pre-viously only available to
men. Both mothers and the children who
remain behind in the Philippines struggle with
these new identities. She concludes that, whilst
feelings of pain are fostered by separation, they
are intensified by the failure of the cultures
from which this hybrid group have emerged to
acknowledge, and adapt to, the change.
Parrenas begins by highlighting the struc-
tural inequalities that constrain the options
Filipina migrant workers have to provide for
their children. She notes the legal barriers that
limit the term of their settlement to temporary
labour contracts, deny entry to spouses and
dependent children, and ensure that only adult
children are eligible for reunification. She notes
the social stratification, or segregation, of
workers to informal service employment in the
host societies, and the occupational demands of
domestic work that make it difficult for them
to raise their children in the host society.
Parrenas argues that economic globalisa-
tion has led to unequal development among
nations, and suggests that migrant Filipina
domestic workers are taking advantage of the
lower costs of reproducing the family in the
Third World. The fact that food, housing,
clothing, education, etc., are cheaper in the
Philippines than in the host countries means
that women are able to provide a relatively
secure, middle-class lifestyle for their children.
Finally, she also discusses the rise of what has
been referred to as ‘xeno-racism’ (Fekete,
2001). She suggests that women do not want to
expose their children to racial tensions and
anti-immigrant sentiments, which are fostered
by the construction of immigrants as ‘undesir-
able’.
Parrenas found that migrant Filipina
domestic workers experienced a range of
emotions, including helplessness, anxiety, loss,
guilt and loneliness: ‘Some days, I just start crying
while I am sweeping the floor because I am thinking
about my children in the Philippines.’
She suggests that mothers negotiate these
emotional strains in three central ways.
1. Commodification of love
This involves mothers overcompensating for
their absence by providing their children with
material goods.
73
2. Repression of emotional strains
 Research Reviews
Given that they are denied the right to family
reunification, they often cannot afford to
confront their feelings; lingering on it only
intensifies the pain.
3. Rationalisation of distance
Migrant Filipina domestic workers compress
time and space and attempt to counter the
physical distance in the family through
frequent telephone calls and letter writing.
Ironically, this rationalisation of distance,
whilst reassuring for parents, can be stifling for
children in the Philippines. Parrenas notes the
power imbalance in these relationships in that
it is the migrant parent who initiates the tele-
phone calls; the children simply receive them.
The children are trapped, as time-space
compression convinces parents that they’ve
maintained close-knit ties, and allows them to
keep their children waiting even longer – more
than two years in many cases. She goes on to
explore the emotional impact on the children of
this prolonged separation. She found that
mother/child relationships were seriously
affected; a seemingly permanent emotional
distance was created that survived long after
reunification.
Parrenas provides a fascinating account of
the emotional impact of ‘mothering from a
distance’. Using deeply moving quotations
from participants, she expertly engages the
reader in some of the costs in human terms of
immigration in response to increasing globali-
sation. I felt, however, that Parrenas could have
done a little more to address the difficulties of
reunification. Although she identifies some of
the tensions in post-reunification relationships,
she does not adequately address the loss
children feel when they are sent from the
Philippines to rejoin their mothers. Suarez-
Orozco, Todorova and Louie (2001) note that
children who are left behind will form a signif-
icant bond of attachment with either the
remaining parent or another primary care-giver
74 such as an aunt, uncle, grandparent, etc. They
discuss the impact of separation from this
person when a child is sent to be reunited with
the mother. They suggest that reunification can
be an ambivalent experience due to the length
of separation from the mother and the intensity
of the attachment with the primary carer
during that separation. Often, the child may
not even recognise the parent.
One response to globalisation has been a
construction or return to traditional, familiar
‘values’, i.e. parochialism/nationalism.
‘Globalisation … has had the curious effect of
reinforcing ethnicity and national identities’
(Salazar, 1998). This creates a tension for
migrant Filipina working mothers, in that they
are attempting to hold on to a traditional
(maternal) identity, whilst acting in complete
opposition to it. I would argue that an alterna-
tive, ‘hybrid’ identity is not easily available to
them. Due to the nature of the work they are
carrying out (domestic chores, living and
working in private households, working long
hours for low wages, with little free time or
space for social interaction beyond the context
of their immediate employment) they do not
have the same access to a group identity that
other ‘hybrids’ do.
However, hybridisation would seem to be
the most positive way of theorising the impact
of globalisation in relation to this group.
Hybridisation theory implicitly suggests that
the two cultures from which the ‘hybrid’ is
created remain static. Cross-cultural research
shows that this is not the case. If we accept that
the cultures from which the hybrid develops
are also evolving, it is here that hope lies. As
Parrenas concludes: ‘We can only hope that the
‘reconstitution of mothering’ led by numerous
female migrants from the Philippines will
eventually seep into and shift the conscious-
ness, values and ideologies of the general public
toward the acceptance of multiple variances of
family life’ (p.387).
References
Fekete, L. (2001). The emergence of xeno-
racism. Race and Class, 43(2), 23–40.
Salazar, J.M. (1998). Social identity and

national identity. In S. Worchel, J.F.
Morales, D. Paez & J-C. Deschamps (Eds.),
Soc ial identity: International perspec tives.
London: Sage.
Suarez-Orozco, C., Todorova, I. & Louie, J.
(2001). The transnationalisation of families:
Immigrant separations and reunific ations.
Human Development and Psychology,
Harvard Graduate School of Education.
http://www.gse.harvard.edu/~hip/
Files?Presentations?AFTA%20Paper.doc
Correspondence
Jo Neale
Department of Psychology,
University of Luton, Park Square,
Luton LU1 3JU.
E-mail: jo.neale@luton.ac.uk
Black, P. & Sharma, U. (2001).
Men are real, Women are ‘made
up’: Beauty therapy and the
construction of feminity.
The Sociological Review, 49(1),
100–116.
Black, P. (2002). ‘Ordinary
people come through here’:
Locating the beauty salon in
women’s lives.
Feminist Review, 71, 2–17.
Re vie we d b y Me rra n To e rie n
industry was worth
T HE BEAUTY THERAPY
£366 million in the UK in 1998 (Black &
Sharma, 2001, citing The Beauty Industry
Survey, Guild News, 1999); in 2000, around 4.5
million people (mostly women) visited UK
salons regularly (Black, 2002, citing Beauty
Index, Guild News, 2001). Nevertheless, beauty
therapy has received little empirical academic
attention. The broader study reported in these
articles addresses this gap: using interviews,
observation in a beauty therapy college, and
Research Reviews
participant-observation as salon clients, the
authors have investigated beauty therapy both
as work and as cultural
institution.
Each article offers a somewhat different
schema for understanding salon practices; each
also provides a unique theoretical focus.
Drawing on interviews with 15 beauty
therapists and salon owners/managers, Black
and Sharma argue that salon work is not about
‘beauty’ as such; rather, it offers a means of
‘‘pampering’, ‘treating’, [or] ‘grooming’’
(p.106) the client – practices associated, not
with beauty, but with stress-relief, the produc-
tion of a ‘normal’ appearance, and an appro-
priate workplace appearance, respectively.
Further, the therapists reported acting as unof-
ficial counsellors, adding extra difficulty to
their work. Concerned to offer both a fair
account of their participants’ perspectives, and
a critique of the beauty industry, Black and
Sharma grapple throughout their analysis with
an important feminist dilemma: how to under-
stand beauty practices in light of women’s
active agency and the pressures of restrictive
cultural norms, serviced by a profit-driven
industry. Refreshingly, they draw on their
personal (pleasurable) experiences of salon
treatments as well as their position as feminist
researchers, refusing either to condemn the
beauty industry as ‘unambiguously negative’
(p.101), or to celebrate it as empowering ‘just
because it feels good’ (p.112).
Black’s analysis, based largely on new data
from 24 (female) salon clients, divides salon
work into ‘pampering,’ ‘routine grooming,’
‘health treatments,’ and ‘corrective treatments’.
While all but ‘health treatments’ map closely
onto Black and Sharma’s categories, Black
broadens the terms of analysis, understanding
the salon to be a point of intersection for
multiple themes, including ‘competing
discourses and practices of the body …
gendered employment practices … leisure and
consumption patterns; issues of health and
well-being; … [and] the construction and 75
maintenance of gender and sexuality’ (p.3).
 Research Reviews
Black offers an insightful ‘political’ analysis,
connecting her categories to various socio-
cultural pressures, and the concept of self-
surveillance. At the same time, she reports that
clients’ justifications for using the salon were
typically individualised and apolitical; for
instance, clients described ‘pampering’ ‘in
terms of escapism and time for oneself’ (p.15) –
an antidote to stress – with no acknowledge-
ment of structural causes for the conflicting
demands on their time, which they experienced
as stressful. Together, the two articles are coura-
geous in their efforts to avoid simplifying a
complex domain.
Although drawing substantially on theory,
the authors also strive to ‘listen to [women]
themselves’ (p.108) – a common feminist aim
(see Du Bois, 1983; Kitzinger & Wilkinson,
1997). It is, therefore, a pity that both articles
fail to discuss the method of data analysis used,
or its validity as applied to the study. The
reader is not told how the categories were
derived from the interviews. Do they, for
example, reflect the participants’ own words? If
so, were these produced spontaneously, or
might they have been prompted by the inter-
view questions? What sense was made of
disconfirming evidence? These questions are
particularly pertinent given the partial overlap
across the articles: each uses evidence from a
somewhat overlapping participant base (both
draw on interviews with beauty therapists, only
the latter on interviews with clients) to produce
a somewhat different categorisation of salon
work. Why the differences? What implications
might they have for our understanding of
beauty therapy? Black and Sharma do examine
their data for evidence of a ‘professional
discourse of beauty therapy’ (p.112). While
this might be a factor in the differences
between the schemas, Black references the prior
schema without considering what it might
mean for the later analysis.
More importantly, the differences between
the schemas highlight a problem with Black
76 and Sharma’s article: a mismatch between one
of their aims, and what the study actually
achieves. Black and Sharma’s aims include an
‘investigation of … the … micro-activities of
the everyday world of the salon’ (p.101).
Indeed, their categories are discussed in rela-
tion to the question, ‘If not ‘beauty’ then what
do beauty therapists do?’’ (p.106, emphasis in
original). However, any claim to provide an
account of actual practices is on shaky ground
if it is derived not from observation of those
practices, but from reports of them. In basing
their analysis ‘on the testimony’ (p.102,
emphasis added) of beauty therapists, Black
and Sharma offer a fascinating account of how
therapists view their work, how they would
like that work to be viewed by others, and why
they consider it to be of value. They do not,
however, investigate the actual practices of the
salon as they unfold on a day-to-day basis. In
deriving a different schema from analysis of
different interview data, Black inadvertently
displays that neither article directly examines
what happens in the salon; rather, both are
concerned with analysing what particular
groups of participants say happens there.
Given that Black and Sharma carried out
observational research, it is disappointing that
they report little of it. However, from my
perspective as a student of conversation analysis
– an approach particularly suited to the study
of micro-activities (see Kitzinger, 2000) – the
aim of investigating the ‘micro-activities of …
the salon’ (p.101, emphasis added) cannot be
met adequately even by one-off observation. A
video recording of events, although itself a
partial record, currently is our best means of
allowing for repeated observation as a basis for
analysis (see Sacks, 1984). Further, it places the
analyst at one less remove from events than do
interviews: rather than working from the tran-
script of an interviewee’s account of salon prac-
tices, the analyst can work from a transcript of
the interaction that took place during an actual
session. In so doing, the analyst is particularly
well positioned to ‘take the ambiguous, contra-
dictory, everyday social practices of women as
[her] starting point’ (Davis, 1991, cited in
Black & Sharma, 2001, p.102) – an aim which
 Research Reviews

Black and Sharma endorse as a means of E-mail: mgt100@york.ac.uk or

grounding feminist theory. merrantoerien@yahoo.co.uk
In sum, these articles offer perceptive
insights into beauty therapists’ and clients’
understandings of salon practices, linking these
with broader socio-cultural issues.
As a PhD student investigating women’s body
hair removal, I was excited to find other
authors committed to analysing ‘the day to day
routines of femininity’ (Black & Sharma,
pp.100–101). And, while I was disappointed
by my sense that many of their questions were
not satisfactorily answered, I appreciate the
limitations of the journal article format, and
look forward to reading Black’s forthcoming
Gender and the Beauty Industry (to be published in
2004 by Routledge). In asking the questions
they do, Black and Sharma pave the way for
further investigation of multiple themes, not
least of which is the taken-for-granted assump-
tion that body-alteration is necessary to an
appropriate femininity.

References
Du Bois, B. (1983). Passionate scholarship:
Notes on values, knowing and method in
feminist social science. In G. Bowles &
R.D. Klein (Eds.), Theories of women’s
studies. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
Kitzinger, C. (2000). Doing feminist conversa-
tion analysis. Feminism & Psycho-logy, 10(2),
163–193.
Kitzinger, C. & Wilkinson, S. (1997).
Validating women’s experience? Dilemmas
in feminist research. Feminism & Psychology,
7(4), 566–574.
Sacks, H. (1984). Methodological remarks. In
J.M. Atkinson & J.C. Heritage (Eds.),
Structures of social action: Studies in conversa-
tion analysis. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.

Correspondence
Merran Toerien
Dept. of Sociology, The University of York,
Heslington, York YO10 5DD. 77
Tel: 07930 394648
 Book Reviews
Haywood, C. & Mac an Ghaill, M.
(2003). Men and Masculinities.
Buckingham: Open University Press
Re vie we d b y Ka tie Burke
the book, Men and Masculinities,
T HE TITLE OF
immediately identifies one of the most
vital principles of the text. ‘Masculinity’ is not
simply a unitary notion, as it has historically
been positioned, but rather there are a plurality
of masculinities, ever changing and affected by
a variety of power differentials and social influ-
ences. It begins deconstructing masculinity as a
concept right from the off and, whilst acknowl-
edging the importance of feminism and gender
work, it also highlights that masculinity is
wrongly constructed as ‘known’. This is a
theme that runs throughout this highly read-
able, informative and thought provoking text
and one which underpins a variety of issues that
are discussed in the context of masculinity in
the early 21st century.
This area of study has undoubtedly begun
to receive more attention in recent years, but is,
arguably, still lacking a systematic overview of
the field. Haywood and Mac an Ghaill attempt
to fill this space by providing the reader with a
clear, all round introductory text to the study of
men and masculinity. In their opening para-
graphs they outline a number of more specific
aims: to explore the main sociological
approaches to masculinity within the wider
context of gender relations, to use these in
order to look at the cultural production of
masculinity in a number of institutional sites,
to critically examine the current so called
‘crisis’ in masculinity, to discuss the move from
monocausal to more inclusive models of power
and, finally, to explore contemporary
masculinity from a cross cultural perspective.
All of which, on the whole, it does very well.
The book itself is divided up into two
parts. The first part, ‘Social practices and
cultural arenas: institutional sites’, looks at
78 how social change is impacting upon the lives
of men and in particular on the three areas of
work, family participation and school.
Drawing on authors such as Hearn (1992), the
chapter on work is quick to point out that in
the modern era it is problematic to directly
link masculinity with the economic sector.
Here, the authors not only explore the
changing patterns of men’s work, but go one
step further in looking at issues such as unem-
ployment to highlight the notion that ‘work
based masculinities reflect broader aspects of
men in the wider culture’ (p.39). Looking at
how masculinity in the work place has
developed they go on to explain that, through
the decrease in the labour market, masculinity
has gone from being understood through work
with the body to being understood through
work on the body. That is men can gain social
status by working on their body, without being
employed, thus reflecting the growing concept
of consumerism.
The following chapter explores masculinity
within the family context and the account of the
blurring of men’s and women’s positions in both
work and family life in the modern era comple-
ments the themes of the previous chapter nicely.
It emphasises the need to focus on men and
family as a gendered interrelationship through
which both manhood and paternity can be
constructed and reconstructed. As in the previous
chapter, as well as looking at the issue from an
historical perspective it also looks at the issue
more globally, and explores topics such as legisla-
tive demands on fathers, as well as gay fathers
and their families. Furthermore, it identifies the
under representation of many ‘groups’ of fathers
as well as identifying that there is no one single
theory through which this complex area can be
understood.
‘What makes a man’ is a question often
batted around in debates on masculinity and
the next chapter, ‘Troubling School Boys:
Making Young Masculinities’, deals with this
more directly. The chapter comes from the
angle that schooling is a social process rife with
formal and informal meanings that boys (and
girls) take on, thereby constructing what it is
to be male or to be female. As well as focusing

on many of the ‘usual’ concerns, such as the
curricula, peer groups and teacher practices, it
also discusses areas such as ethnicity and sexu-
ality, giving the chapter a more cross-cultural,
broader global feel. One of the strengths of this
chapter is that it draws upon classical texts,
such as Bowles and Gintis (with which surely
all sociology students are familiar with!), as
well as more up-to-date research. A further
strength, as with many of the other chapters, is
the authors’ awareness that social processes are
continually changing. For example, in this
particular section, when talking about the
experience of gay and lesbian individuals at
school, they draw on the work of Foucault who
proposed that ‘relations of power-knowledge
are not static forms of distribution, they are
‘matrices of transformation’’ (p.79). Indeed the
authors suggest that we need to progress
towards an understanding that hierarchies and
structures are not completely stable and
outcomes are not completely secure. Their
inclusion of sexuality proves to be fairly funda-
mental and they conclude that there is a need
to ‘examine critically heterosexual masculini-
ties and in the process to destabilise the
assumed naturalness and inevitability of
sex/gender in schooling regimes’ (p.80).
This section of the book brings up some
very interesting points and its strengths lie not
only in its historical/
modern and global/local viewpoints but also in
the fact that as well as taking into account the
‘tired old’ patriarchal argument it also includes
new responses to questions of sexual differences
amongst men. For the reader it provides a very
good account of applied sociology; however it
could benefit from tackling more issues which
have recently come to light as concerns for
men, such as health and the construction of
masculinity in order to provide a more compre-
hensive psycho-social account.
The second part of the book ‘Mapping,
Researching and Practising Masculinities’,
whilst focusing on more theoretical and
methodological issues, still manages to make
the text relevant to real life. Chapter 4
Book Reviews
addresses questions of global masculinities. It
begins by discussing the local meanings of
masculinities through an examination of the
way in which three different nationalities of
men, Masai warriors, Israeli men and Mexican
men mediate masculinity. In doing this, rather
than use a structural functionalist approach,
such as that of Gilmore (1990) who suggests
that all masculinities share similar funda-
mental structures such as boy’s rite of passage,
the authors attempt to critically explore the
notion of the ‘ubiquitous male’. The chapter
then goes on to consolidate the book’s
primarily post-modern stance by exploring
gender relations as expressed through global
processes that travel beyond national bound-
aries. Here, rather than focusing on the bodies
of men it progresses to exploring men as disem-
bodied, with factors such as international rela-
tions and reconstituted forms of desire
providing alternative ways of thinking about
men, and ultimately highlighting the contra-
dictory nature of masculinity.
Chapter 5 deals directly with the research
methodologies that have been used in the past
to examine this area of research. It takes time to
consider the input and influence that the
different waves of feminism have had on the
subject area, and works through the contribu-
tions made by empiricism, post-structuralism
and post-modernism. This results in an analysis
of how these approaches have led us to the
current understanding of masculinity, and ulti-
mately, to identifying a number of caveats and
suggestions of how to move forward in
researching masculinity in a productive way.
Rather than a ‘masculinity methodology’ they
suggest a need to ‘adopt an exploratory position
that focuses on the ways that theoretical devel-
opments in the study of masculinity can be
used to inform understandings of the research
process’ (p.121), and make the necessary differ-
entiation between method, methodology and
epistemology. This chapter provides a good
reflection on the methodologies employed and
ensures that the reader consolidates and under- 79
stands the methods in which the previous chap-
 Book Reviews
ters are grounded.
The final chapter asks ‘what the future is’
for the politics of masculinity, particularly
focusing on three forms of masculinity politics;
male liberationists, men against sexism and the
New Men’s Movement. It grounds this discus-
sion in the long history of sexual politics, and
describes the modern gay movement as one of
the most dynamic elements in destabilising
common-sense notions of men and masculinity.
This chapter is highly informative providing an
excellent poli-tical stance, making constant
reference to other sections in the book whilst
simultaneously looking ahead in order to guide
the reader. Nevertheless, the section on homo-
sexuality and Gay men’s sexual politics seems
sadly tacked on to the end of the book.
Somehow, it does not sit correctly with the
position of the rest of the text, spending too
much time on the history of the area and not
long enough relating sexuality to the topic of
the book, ‘masculinities’.
Despite this latter omission and possibly
the need to incorporate the ‘voices’ of more
men into the text, the book provides an excel-
lent introductory sociological text on men and
masculinities, and a good, critical overview of
the subject. Its other main strengths lie in
taking both a global and local view, thus
linking the ‘crisis’ in masculinity to wider
social issues. This book should be recom-
mended reading for anyone interested in
research or study within the field of gender
and, in particular, masculinities.
References
Bowles, S. & Gintis, H. (1977). Schooling in capi-
talist America: Educational reform and the
contradictions of economic life. Basic Books.
Gilmore, D. (1990). Manhood in the making:
Cultural conc epts of masc ulinity. Yale
University Press.
Correspondence
80 Katie Burke
Research Assistant, School of Psychology,
University of East London, Stratford Campus,
Romford Road, London, E15 4LZ.
E-mail: burkekatie@hotmail.com
McNay, L. (2000). Gender and
Agency: Reconfiguring the Subject
in Feminist and Social Theory.
Malden, MA: Blackwell/Cambridge:
Polity Press
Re vie we d b y Am a nd a Vis ic k
HIS IS A tricky text. McNay’s writing is not
T immediately accessible to one who is
unversed in the terminology of feminist and
social theory’s philosophical twists.
Nevertheless, the author’s account of agency
and generativity amidst changing gender rela-
tions justifies the effort it demands.
The interplay of globalisation and gender
identity is currently receiving considerable
attention across the social sciences. However,
almost without exception, the focus is on ‘the
problem of men’, or capitalist ideologies. In
tandem, work in feminist and social theory has
conceptualised women as subordinated by
immediate personal relations or the wider
political system. As McNay points out, while
three decades ago women might have been able
to position men as their sole problem, changes
in gender relations have resulted in women’s
increasing differential positionings; there now
exist divisions among women along lines of
difference in age, ‘race’ and social class. It is
against this backdrop that the author re-exam-
ines subject formation and agency.
This generative account is much-needed at
a time when the consequences of detraditional-
ising forces on gender relations render
Foucauldian notions of the construction of
‘docile bodies’ incomprehensible. McNay also
problematises the Lacanian conceptualisation
of an explicitly sexual, rather than gendered,
identity formation that is constituted as ‘lack’
and determined by the phallocentric order.
Both Foucault and Lacan allow for agency, but

only as ‘resistance’: Lacan locating the forma-
tion of the subject within language – the ‘field
of the other’ – and Foucault, within the body.
McNay points out that positioning the subject
as a ‘discursive effect’ or as ‘corporeally deter-
mined’ produces only a dominance-submissive-
ness dualism that forecloses an adequate
explanation of subject formation and agency.
She conflates these ideas into ‘the negative
paradigm’ that fails to explain agency or deal
with ‘otherness’, except in terms of exclusion
and denial.
Detraditionalising forces, for example the
greater availability of means of contraception
and changes in the workforce, have resulted in
the contesting of identities within relation-
ships and organisations. McNay argues that
women’s responses to these changes need to be
seen as creative because they often seem to
emerge ex nihilo, implying agency. A difficulty
in the negative paradigm is that subjectifica-
tion is seen as either asocial (psychical, taking
place within the unconscious wherein the
subject is bound by ‘the laws of the father’) or
entirely constructed such that cultural sanc-
tions preclude agency. But, as McAdams
(1997) explains, identity is a psychosocial
construction and is jointly authored by the
person and the defining culture such that
different groups have access to different narra-
tive opportunities and constraints.
Despite the risk that the decline in gender
inequality along certain axes may trigger new
forms of subordination in others areas (for
example, women’s increased participation in
paid work and in higher education is associated
with guilt about child-rearing practices),
McNay asserts that creative responses to differ-
ences can be utilised as the basis for a positive
paradigm that would account for agency as
generative. Thus, the author attempts to inte-
grate the psychoanalytic account of subject
formation into the constructionist account of
agency despite these perspectives’ intransi-
gence, by drawing on the thoughts of
Bourdieu, Butler and Ricoeur (for construc-
tionist insights), and Castoriadis, for psycho-
Book Reviews
analytical thought. The selected conceptualisa-
tions of these thinkers allow for a complex
interplay between psyche and society such that
it becomes possible to see women as both influ-
enced by, and acting upon the social sphere.
According to McNay, Bourdieu’s under-
standing of the body as a generative rather than
as a determining structure, and his discussion
of differentiation in ‘the field’ enables an
understanding of agency, not as a universal
feature of late capitalist
societies, but as discontinuous. His work
enables an understanding of the uneven effects
of gender restructuring – beyond dominant
versus excluded dualisms. Further to this,
McNay takes Butler’s concept that gender
norms are ‘entrenched but not unsurpassable
boundaries’. Ricoeur’s conceptualisation of the
self involves a narrative construction that is
coherent, rather than having endless scope as
many current postmodern conceptualisations
suggest. There are compelling constraints on
the ways in which identity can be changed: for
example, in the context of power relations
through culturally sanctioned narratives.
McNay focuses on narrative as an active form of
appropriation of the autonomous, individu-
alised model of agency which many argue has
traditionally better suited men’s than women’s
experiences (e.g. Britton & Baxter, 1999).
Here, for example, she asks why nurturing
should be seen as less rationalised than work,
when women often need to rationalise
approaches to maternal activities and regard
work as a more open time for the self. She also
aims to avoid the dualism of essentialism versus
constructed identity. One example draws atten-
tion to ‘lipstick lesbians’ who appropriate
signifiers of conventional femininity to prob-
lematise stereotyped images of non-heterosex-
uals. Turning to psychoanalytic theory, McNay
takes Castoriadis’ conception of the psyche as a
‘radical imagination’, connecting creativity to
society, not as the product of individuals, but as
an ontological condition of the social realm
which underpins the psyche. Society is seen as 81
a product of human creativity and a determi-
 Book Reviews

nant of it, and hence is a work in progress.

While McNay explains that none of these
philosophical lines succeed on their own, she
argues that it is possible to encorporate the
main theoretical dimensions into a ‘positive
paradigm’ of subject formation and agency.
Where Lacan and Foucault offer a powerful
explanation of the inscription of gender norms,
the work of Bourdieu, Butler, Ricoeur and
Castoriadis helps to explain agency. In my view,
the book represents a drawing together of
apparently mutually exclusive accounts of
subject formation to provide a compelling
argument for generativity in subject formation.
A drawback in the book is the absence of in-
depth coverage of ‘traditionalising forces’.
Although, towards the closing remarks, a brief
outline of these forces is provided, a deeper
analysis would be useful in furthering under-
standing of women’s agentic moves. Overall,
however, I found the book both exciting and
useful and will undoubtedly draw on McNay’s
insights in the course of my research.

References
Britton, C. & Baxter, A. Becoming a mature
student: gendered narratives of the self.
Gender &Education, 11(2), 179–192.
McAdams, D.P. (1997). The case for unity in
the (post)modern self: A modest proposal.
In D. Ashmore & L. Jussim (Eds.), Self and
identity: Fundamental issues. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.

Correspondence
Amanda Visick
Doctoral Student,
Department of Psychology,
University of Luton, Park Square,
Luton, Beds. LU1 3JU.
E-Mail: amanda.visick@ talk21.com

82
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Cobb, J. & Grey, S. (1979). The behavioural treatment of obsessive compulsive disorders.
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Moore, S. & Rosenthal, D. (1993). Sexuality in adolescence. London: Routledge.
Hodgson, R.J. & Rollnick, S. (1989). More fun, less stress: How to survive in research.
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