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UNDEAD PATRIARCHY AND THE POSSIBILITY OF LOVE
Leah McClimans and J. Jeremy Wisnewski
There are lots of reasons to distrust Edward Cullen when we first meet him. Drinking blood is only one of them. He seems to be a (stereo)typical man in every respect: he has trouble controlling his urges, he’s rude, and he always thinks he knows best. Even his initial attraction to Bella Swan seems to be marked by a desire for control. Think about it: Edward doesn’t have access to Bella’s thoughts, so he doesn’t immediately have the same advantage over her that he does with others. She thus refuses (albeit unintentionally) to fall under his power. But this fact seems to make her all the more enticing to Edward, a control freak par excellence: since he doesn’t automatically have access to her mind, he longs to find out about her—and thereby to master her.
Of course, maybe we’re not giving Edward the benefit of the doubt, but can you blame us? Under patriarchy, men don’t have the best track record, to put it mildly. A patriarchy is a society, like ours, characterized by structures that support male dominance. Equality in opposite-sex relationships is difficult to achieve. We’re socialized to think of human relations in terms of the strong and the weak; winners and losers; protectors and the protected.
1 As a result, when faced with controlling and overbearing behavior from partners and boyfriends, women and girls (including Bella) often interpret that behavior as caring and romantic. Likewise, men and boys (including Edward) often interpret their female counterparts as irrational and silly.
2 Feminists argue that, if unchecked, this lack of equality undermines trust, honesty, and ultimately, love.
These patterns of domination and subordination continue in our society, even though most girls today are raised to become women who see themselves as individuals with an equal social status. Recognizing oneself as an equal
individual , sadly, is not the same as understanding oneself as an equal member of a heterosexual relationship (or any other relationship, for that matter). And there’s little help around for understanding
how to have an equal relationship. Indeed, we might even wonder, with Andrea Dworkin, whether or not there
can be equal heterosexual relations.
3 Surprising as it sounds, this lack of guidance is why we need the
Twilight saga. We need to see Edward learn to be a better person and less of a stereotypical man. In Forks, Washington, we find both the pitfalls of patriarchy and the possibility of a love that recognizes the necessity of equality.
The Control Issues of Edward Cullen
As the story goes, an unknown vampire breaks into Bella’s house while she spends the weekend held “hostage” at the Cullens’. The veggie vamps and the local werewolves go on red alert. Jacob Black comes over to the Swans’ to get the intruder’s scent. On his way out, he decides to ask Bella out:
“Hold up a sec—hey, do you think you can come to La Push tonight? We’re having a bonfire party. Emily will be there, and you could meet Kim . . .”
“Yeah, Jake, I don’t know about that. See, it’s a little tense right now . . .”
“C’mon, you think somebody’s going to get past all—all six of us?” . . . His eyes were full of unashamed pleading.
“I’ll ask,” I said doubtfully.
He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Is he your warden, now too? You know, I saw this story on the news last week about controlling, abusive teenage relationships and—”
“Okay!” I cut him off, and then shoved his arm. “Time for the werewolf to get out!”
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Of course, Jacob will say anything to press his advantage with Bella, but this time he might be on to something. Edward can be very controlling. Feminists for some time have recognized controlling relationships as one consequence of patriarchy. A system that promotes male domination also encourages men to fear the ways in which their domination may be diminished. As a result, men attempt to control situations in which they feel most vulnerable. Bella may not be the most beautiful girl in Forks, but she seems to be the most desirable—and she’s Edward’s. Not surprisingly, Edward’s control issues most often stem from his fear for Bella’s safety—just those situations that would take her away from him. When Bella meets the Cullen family for the first time, she notices a silent exchange between Carlisle and Edward. A bit later she asks Edward,
“So what was Carlisle telling you before?”
His eyebrows pulled together. “You noticed that, did you?”
I shrugged. “Of course.”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. “He wanted to tell me some news—he didn’t know if it was something I would share with you.”
“Will you?”
“I have to, because I’m going to be a little . . . overbearingly protective over the next few days—or weeks—and I wouldn’t want you to think I’m naturally a tyrant.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we’re here, and they’re curious.”
“Visitors?”
“Yes . . . well, they aren’t like us, of course—in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won’t come into town at all, but I’m certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they’re gone.”
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Apparently Bella has no choice in the matter, and Edward intends to “protect” her by controlling where she goes and whom she sees. And it gets worse. Before long, Edward is withholding information from Bella (remember early in Eclipse when he lies to Bella about Alice’s vision of Victoria’s return?), manipulating her (remember that trip to Florida?), tailing her car (scaring her sufficiently that she doesn’t want to look at him in the rearview mirror), and paying Alice to hold her hostage while he goes off for a weekend with the boys.
Controlling behavior may be the result of patriarchy, but it also reinforces it. The more Edward feels the need to protect Bella, the more he views her as weak and vulnerable. Moreover, his view of her is not simply in terms of her physical weakness, but it also applies to his assessment of her decision-making capacity. Perhaps no example illustrates this point as well as Bella’s and Edward’s ongoing argument about whether she will become a vampire. Edward
continually dismisses Bella’s request as irrational, uninformed, and hasty. Or consider in
New Moon when Edward decides to leave Bella. He does so
not because he’s tired of pretending to be something he’s not, but rather, as he later explains to her, “I only left you in the first place because I wanted you to have a chance at a normal, happy, human life. I could see what I was doing to you—keeping you constantly on the edge of danger, taking you away from the world you belonged in, risking your life every moment I was with you.”
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Edward’s explanation may sound self-sacrificing, but Bella doesn’t want a “normal, happy, human life,” and she didn’t want Edward to leave. How many times does Bella beg Edward to stay with her? How often does she ask him to change her? In fact, a “normal, happy, human life” increasingly becomes Bella’s worst-case scenario. Why does Edward consistently think that he knows better than Bella regarding what is in her best interest? It can’t be Bella’s track record with decision-making. Bella is an excellent decision-maker: When Bella sees that her mother needs to spend time traveling with her new husband, she decides to move in with her dad—and this turns out to be a good decision. When James begins to track her, it’s Bella who decides on their course of action—a much better plan than Edward’s strap-her-in-the-Jeep-and-drive-till-morning strategy. And it can’t be Bella’s lack of maturity. She’s incredibly mature: She practically raised herself, she kept her mother out of trouble for seventeen years, and she looks after her domestically challenged father. So what is it? Could it be, just maybe—Edward thinks he knows better than Bella because he’s a man?
Bella’s Mixed Reactions
Feminists highlight two reactions to this kind of controlling behavior. On the one hand, women and girls resent being controlled and resort to clandestine behavior such as lying, sneaking around, and their own brand of manipulation. On the other hand, they interpret controlling behavior as a sign of care and commitment.
We see both in Bella. Bella rebels against Edward’s authority at the same time that she regards it as a sign of his love for her. When Bella first escapes to La Push against Edward’s orders, she plans to be at work at Newton’s. But when she unexpectedly gets the day off, she puts the pedal to the metal and sneaks off to visit Jacob before Alice can see what she’s planning. Yet, a few days later, when Edward has Alice hold Bella hostage and Bella calls Jacob to cancel their upcoming plans, she accepts Edward’s behavior as an expression of love.
“I wish. I’m not at Charlie’s,” I said sourly. “I’m kind of being held prisoner.”
He was silent as that sunk in, and then he growled. “We’ll come and get you,” he promised in a flat voice, slipping automatically into a plural.
A chill slid down my spine, but I answered in a light and teasing voice. “Tempting. I have been tortured—Alice painted my toenails.”
“I’m serious.”
“Don’t be. They’re just trying to keep me safe.”
He growled again.
“I know it’s silly, but their hearts are in the right place.”
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Bella is comfortable with lying because she feels the control being used is for her own safety, but she also hints at resentment, though her need to lie to a friend and her resentment of being held “prisoner” both should have been red flags to Bella that her relationship with Edward was not necessarily a healthy one.
Edward’s Progress
Patriarchal societies support inequality between men and women: Men are strong and rational; women are weak and silly. For many feminist theorists, controlling behavior is a consequence of patriarchy: Men will try to control those situations in which their dominant status is threatened. Controlling behavior, however, also reinforces systems of domination and subordination, in that the women whom men attempt to control are taken to be in need of control—in need of guidance, protection, and oversight. Moreover, the tendency to interpret controlling behavior as romantic and the inclination to escape it by lying and manipulating means that it is often difficult to overcome.
The tragedy is that controlling behavior doesn’t signify love; instead, it creates a barrier to it. Control requires both men and women to lie and manipulate their partners, but such behavior is at odds with love because it’s an obstacle to respect and trust. For feminist theorist bell hooks, respect and trust are two dimensions of love; to embrace love we must embrace care, commitment, responsibility, trust, respect, and knowledge.
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According to hooks, this embrace is possible only if we first break with patriarchy and recognize our partners as equals. Bella and Edward begin this break when Bella questions Edward’s motivation for keeping her away from the werewolves:
The words popped out thoughtlessly. “Is this really just about my safety?”
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“You aren’t . . .” Angela’s theory seemed sillier now than before. It was hard to finish the thought. “I mean, you know better than to be jealous right?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Do I?”
“Be serious.”
“Easily—there’s nothing remotely humorous about this.”
I frowned suspiciously. “Or . . . is this something else altogether? Some vampires-and-werewolves-are-always-enemies nonsense? Is this just a testosterone-fueled—”
His eyes blazed. “This is only about you. All I care is that you’re safe.”
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But despite Edward’s assurance, a week later he changes his mind. When he returns from his weekend of hunting, he finds out that his plan to have Alice hold Bella hostage was only semisuccessful—Jacob sprung Bella from school on the back of his motorcycle and they spent the day together in La Push. Unlike the other occasions when Bella spent time with Jacob, Edward does not lose his mind. What’s different?
“I decided that you were right. My problem before was more about my . . . prejudice against werewolves than anything else. I’m going to try to be more reasonable and trust your judgment. If you say it’s safe, then I’ll believe you.”
“Wow.”
“And . . . most importantly . . . I’m not willing to let this drive a wedge between us.”
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In his decision to trust Bella’s judgment, Edward decides to treat her as a person with the ability to make sound decisions; he decides to treat her as an equal. He no longer views Bella as a weak human girl whose decisions are necessarily dubious, but rather sees her as a person whose decisions and rationale must be taken seriously and respected—even when he disagrees with them. Moreover, Edward recognizes that this move toward equality is important in order to preserve their relationship. He recognizes that his attempts to keep her from Jacob—his attempts to control her actions—will only drive her away from him, both literally and figuratively.
Edward’s decision to trust Bella’s judgment regarding the werewolves is certainly not the end of Edward’s controlling behavior. After all, as he tells Bella during their first time in the meadow, he’s only human. Structures of dominance are not thrown off in one day or by one decision. But Edward continues increasingly to trust Bella’s decisions even though sometimes his progress is not smooth (remember all of their conversations about sex?) and sometimes it’s in spite of himself (remember how badly he wants her to have an abortion?). Nonetheless, he gets better. He learns to negotiate with her when they disagree. At the end of
Eclipse, he finally appreciates how harmful some of his behavior has been: “I’ve clung with such idiotic obstinacy to my idea of what’s best for you, though it’s only hurt you. Hurt you so deeply, time and time again. I don’t trust myself anymore. You can have happiness your way.”
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Talked into Love
This emerging equality intensifies Bella and Edward’s already intense intimacy. Freed from the need to lie and manipulate each other, they are ever more able to talk honestly about their fears, their expectations, and their desires. Such honesty is the first step in the process of love, as hooks suggests: It signals trust and respect, and thus a break with patriarchy and control.
12 Score one for Bella and Edward.
The second step in the process of love, hooks tells us, is communication.
13 Communication is important because on the one hand, it allows us to experience our significant others as persons like ourselves (people with similar fears, hopes, ambitions), and this experience makes it difficult to participate in a relationship based on dominance and subordination. On the other hand, communication is important because it gives us knowledge of our partners, and this knowledge helps us to know how better to love them.
But despite the importance of communication, we’re rarely given examples in the media or in fiction of lovers who communicate with each other. Romantic comedies are not awash in communicative honesty, and even the classics seem to underemphasize how important open communication is to the work of love (we’re talking about you, Shakespeare!). Romeo and Juliet have very little to say to each other, except how much they’re in love—which is rather amazing, given that they know absolutely nothing about one another. And as far as what makes the headlines? Well, we’re too busy fretting over celebrity relationships to ask about the importance of communication in a truly equal and loving relationship; we’re more interested in the strange metaphysical morphings of separate persons into monolithic “Bennifers” and “Brangelinas.”
Through these examples we’re led to believe that it’s possible to love someone without really talking to him or her—without really knowing the person at all. We’re led to believe that a physical attraction or fate is all we need in order to love. We’re even led to believe that knowledge of our partner would make love less compelling, less romantic.
But Bella and Edward have a relationship that acts as antidote to these misconceptions about love and the necessity of communication in fostering it. Their relationship is even stranger than your normal vampire-human love tryst because almost all Bella and Edward do is talk, talk, talk. We can learn much about how love develops and endures from their conversations.
Of course, Bella and Edward are immediately attracted to each other. For Edward, Bella’s appearance in biology changes his definition of the word thirsty; and from her first lunch at Forks High, Bella is dazzled by Edward’s beauty. But this attraction is only the beginning of their story.
At first Edward wants to kill Bella for her blood, but before long it isn’t just her scent that’s attractive; Bella intrigues Edward. She doesn’t act like other humans: She never tells anyone about what really happened the day Tyler’s truck almost crushed her; she has given up a happy life in warm Phoenix and come to live in cold, rainy Forks, a place she clearly hates; and she gets close enough to notice things about Edward—his changing eye color, for instance. But because he can’t hear what she’s thinking, he’ll have to talk to her to better understand her.
At first Bella thinks Edward is simply a mysteriously beautiful teenager, but it doesn’t take long for her to wonder if there isn’t more to his story. Edward doesn’t act like other humans, after all. He appears to hate her for no reason at all; he comes out of nowhere to save her life; his eyes change color daily; he has an old-fashioned way of speaking; and he’s just too beautiful, too graceful. But to solve this puzzle, Bella will have to talk to Edward.
Anyone who believes communication makes love less compelling hasn’t listened in on Bella and Edward’s lunch-time talks, heard their discussion over dinner in Port Angeles, or spied on them in the meadow. During these conversations, Bella and Edward finally begin to see each other as they really are, and they like what they see: Edward the vampire who doesn’t want to be a monster (“he’s even more unbelievable behind the face”) and Bella the vulnerable but brave human with almost no instinct for self-preservation. Finally, Bella can understand Edward’s struggle and make sense out of his mood swings—he doesn’t have a multiple personality disorder. Edward begins to see that Bella is tougher than she looks—she isn’t going to run away from him screaming.
Their new knowledge of each other doesn’t shut the door to love; on the contrary, it allows it to develop. On the one hand, these conversations help them to learn how to love one another: just how much skin contact Bella’s heart and Edward’s self-control can take. One the other hand, these early conversations help them begin to look past the categories “vampire” and “human” (read “dominant” and “subordinate”). Once Bella realizes that Edward is a vampire and she decides that this fact doesn’t matter to her, and once Edward accepts that Bella is just as attached to him as he is to her, then for a short time they are able simply to enjoy their luck in finding each other: holding hands, making out, joking around.
Risk and Transformation
But things soon change as their relationship puts them at risk. When James’s coven recognizes that Bella is human and Edward moves to defend her, the game (literally) is up. Suddenly, the differences between Bella the human and Edward the vampire take center stage, and these differences are quickly construed as inequalities. Bella is weak, frail, and vulnerable; Edward is strong, fast, and lethal. As these inequalities are emphasized, their once frequent and intimate conversations notably diminish—Edward decides to leave Forks without even discussing it with Bella. Because communication makes it difficult to participate in a relationship built on dominance and subordination, perhaps it’s not surprising that Bella and Edward stop talking. In fact, it isn’t until Bella saves Edward from the Volturi and evens things up that we start to see the kinds of conversations that we did earlier.
It’s in these post-Italy conversations about sex and marriage, souls and vampires, safety and werewolves, Victoria and the Volturi that Bella and Edward recognize that they differ beyond just their chromosomal count. But it’s in these conversations that we also see their love endure and deepen. As they explore their different needs and desires, they show us how communication even in the face of disagreement and pain can bring people closer together. Edward and Bella become closer in part as they learn to treat each other as equals: It’s as a result of these conversations that Edward comes to see that his attitude toward Bella and the werewolves is misplaced; that they learn to negotiate compromises; and that they untangle the questions of sex, marriage, and vampire existence.
Bella and Edward do not emerge from Breaking Dawn as they began in Twilight. But it is less the venom that transforms Bella into a vampire than their increasing honesty and communication that marks the difference. God knows, Bella and Edward do not have a perfectly equal relationship—Edward can still be controlling and Bella really needs to see herself more clearly—but it’s these imperfections that make this unbelievable story believable—and it’s the sustained attempts to resolve these imperfections that give us hope for our own relationships.
NOTES
1 bell hooks,
All About Love: New Visions (New York: HarperCollins Press, 2001), p. 97.
2 Donna Chung, “Violence, Control, Romance and Gender Inequality: Young Women and Heterosexual Relationships,” in
Women’s Studies International Forum 28: 449, 2005.
3 See Andrea Dworkin,
Intercourse: 20th Anniversary Edition (New York: Basic Books, 2006).
4 Stephenie Meyer,
Eclipse (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2007), pp. 223-224.
5 Stephenie Meyer,
Twilight (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2005), p. 328.
6 Stephenie Meyer,
New Moon (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2006), pp. 512-513.
8 Following her lead, we will not capitalize “bell hooks.” She’s right about so much, she’s probably right about capitalization, too.
12 hooks,
All About Love, p. 157.