Heinlein’s Women

I’m not over at Tor.com participating in this conversation because I haven’t read enough Heinlein to be qualified to pass judgment on the treatment of women in his body of work.

Lack of qualification doesn’t stop me from airing my opinions on my own blog, though. So here we go.

I’ve read only Starship Troopers, Time Enough for Love, and the very beginning of To Sail Beyond the Sunset. (I’ll get to Stranger in a Strange Land someday, I promise.) Starship Troopers has, if I recall correctly, two female characters (the mother and the female pilot) who are onstage for a grand total of something like five pages. So moving right along. Let’s talk about Heinlein’s treatment of women in Time Enough for Love.

Ms. Hoyt postulates the following reasons for why “some women feel required to stone Heinlein in effigy whenever his name is mentioned”:

Oh, yeah, I know, he wrote women who like sex and all penetration is violation (my aching left foot) and all that rot. Which is why vast pickets of marching women have formed outside every theater showing Sex and the City, right? No? Odd.

Wait—it’s because he wrote women who wanted to have babies. And this, as we all know, is a gross lie. Liberated women do NOT want to have babies. This is why there is absolutely NO industry devoted to infertility, in vitro fertilization, and other techniques devoted to helping women who built high power careers first realize their dream of having babies. Also, older women who are educated and have careers do not EVER adopt from abroad, with or without the help/support of a husband. In fact these things were never heard of. Wait—WHAT? What parallel universe is this?

So it must be because his women characters were attracted to men and tried to be attractive to the male gender. Of course, he should never write things that do not portray the life of women in the current world. Women are NEVER attracted to men. As for dressing for men—why, you can’t find a pair of high heels anywhere on display in store windows. Dresses? What are dresses? They’ve long been abolished. The closest to dressing nice a woman goes is the pantsuit…unless one looks outside the Women’s Studies departments in colleges—but who would want to do that?

Okay—if everyone is done screaming, may we now speak as adults discussing adult problems?

You betcha, Ms. Hoyt. Coming right up. Taking the points in turn:

1)      My issue with the women in Time Enough for Love is not that they like sex… but that they are all so desperate to have sex with their men that they will do so on any terms the man dictates.

“Lazarus, if Ira refuses me—refuses me utterly; he need not marry me—would you… teach me ‘Eros’?”

– Minerva

I also can’t help noticing that although the man dictating the terms is Ira in the example I just quoted, usually the man who dictates terms to women dying to sleep with him is Lazarus. The POV character. Marty Stu, much?

2)      My second issue with the women in Time Enough for Love is not that they want babies… but that they want to have Lazarus Long’s babies so much that they will do so (again) on any terms he dictates.

“Lazarus, I’m certain you’ve married your descendents in the past; is there some reason to discriminate against me? If you’ll tell me, perhaps I can correct it… Or it could be for progeny only, though I would be proud and happy to be permitted to live with you.”

– Hamadrayad

“Time is short, you are leaving. Can you truly forgive me? Will you put your child into me before you go?” Her eyes were welling tears, but she stared at him steadily. “I want your child, Lazarus. I will not ask twice… but I could not let you leave without asking.”

– Minerva

“It’s time for you to impregnate us.”

“Both of us.”

-          Lorelai Lee and Lapis Lazuili

She looked him steadily in the eye. “I want your child, Lazarus.”

Lazarus Long took a deep breath, tried to steady his heartbeat. “Dora, Dora, you are hardly more than a child yourself; it is too soon for you to be talking about having one. You don’t want to marry me—”

“I did not ask you to marry me.”

And when he says that he would not father a child without marrying the mother:

“What is your purpose in insisting on a marriage ceremony, Woodrow? So that our child will bear your name? I don’t want to be a sky widow… but if that is what it takes, let us ride back into town and find a Moderator…”

“Dora, I won’t settle for only one child. You’re going to have half a dozen children by me, or more. Probably more. Maybe a dozen. Any objection?”

“Yes, Woodrow—I mean No, I do not object. Yes, I will have a dozen children by you. Or more.”

“Having a dozen children takes time, Dora. How often should I show up? Every two years, maybe?”

“Whatever you say, Woodrow. Whenever you come back—each time you come back—I’ll have a child by you.  But I do ask that we start the first one at once.”

“You crazy little idiot, I believe you would do it that way.”

“Not ‘would’—shall. If you will.”

– Dora and Lazarus Long (aka Woodrow Wilson Smith)

3)      And my third issue with the women in Time Enough for Love is not that they are attracted to men and try to be attractive to the male gender… but that major life decisions are made on the basis of their attraction to a particular specimen of the male gender. Show me a woman in Time Enough for Love who prioritizes anything else in her life (career, artistic aspirations, whatever) over having as many babies as possible. Not just having sex, having babies.

With those points responded to, I might add that I am also disturbed by the large number of relationships in that book that are between father-figures and daughter-figures. Lazarus’s paramount love story is entitled “The Tale of the Adopted Daughter,” for God’s sake. He describes his love for Dora at the time of their marriage as that of “a doting father for a favorite child”—his words. Later he sleeps with Minerva-the-former-computer, whom he cared for while she was learning to be flesh-and-blood—how is that not raising a child?—and with Laz and Lori, whom he raised from birth. When telling the story of turning down Llita, he explains that his rule of thumb is to never sleep with a dependent woman unless he plans to marry her. Not, say, to never sleep with a dependent woman at all because of the enormous power differential.

Said power differential is pretty much a pre-requisite for a relationship with Lazarus Long, actually. If there were nothing else squicky about his marriage to Dora, their wedding vows would seal it for me:

“Dora, will you go where I go, do what I do, live where I live?”

She looked startled but answered steadily, “Yes, Woodrow. If that is truly what you want.”

“Don’t put any conditions on it. Will you, or won’t you?”

“I will.”

“If it comes to a showdown, will you do what I tell you to? Not give me any more stubborn arguments?”

“Yes, Woodrow.”

“Will you bear my children and be my wife till death do us part?”

“I will.”

“I take thee, Dora, to be my wife, to love and protect and cherish—and never to leave you… so long as we both shall live. Don’t sniffle! Lean over here and kiss me instead. We’re married.”

“I was not either sniffling! Are we really married?”

“We are. Oh, you can have any wedding ceremony you want. Later.”

-          Lazarus and Dora

In case you missed it as it went by, he makes her promise to do what he tells her to, first, and then he takes her as his wife and promises to protect her. And in fact, all of Lazarus’ wives end up doing what he tells them, his patronizing “bless their hearts” nattering about compromise notwithstanding.

And finally, there is the fascinating fetishization of gynecological exams—specifically, the numerous scenes involving a biological father or father-figure performing a gynecological examination on a daughter or daughter-figure. Brought to its inevitable conclusion in To Sail Beyond the Sunset (I didn’t get this far, but I am going by a summary I read) where Maureen feels sexually attracted to her father while he is examining her.

A lot of transgressive art comes with an awesome catch-22 attached to it—if someone reacts by saying, “hey man, WTF, ick,” the artist can claim that the critic is too closed-minded to appreciate the genius inherent in the art and is therefore unqualified to critique it. Mr. Heinlein explicitly builds this into his fiction with expressions like “tell Mrs. Grundy to go fly a kite.” Should you object to some aspect of his futuristic advanced-human society (parent-figures having sex with child-figures, for instance), you’re Mrs. Grundy and your criticism is automatically rendered invalid.

There have been plenty of occasions when something presented by an SF novelist initially squicked me, then got me to question my own prejudices, then led me to the conclusion, “Well, that bothers me, but it probably shouldn’t. Hm, I’ll have to think more about that.” Heinlein’s presentation of group marriage among the quasi-immortal Howard Family (a new and shocking idea to someone of my background when I encountered it at age nineteen) was something that made me question the Mrs. Grundy rules in my brain and be glad I had done so.

As far as father-daughter romantic relationships go, however—no. Ick. I’m comfortable being uncomfortable with that, thanks.

So, yeah. I don’t have a problem with female characters who like sex; I actually think Maureen of Time Enough for Love is an awesome character, she being the one who is attracted to Lazarus and just wants to have some fun, rather than wanting to fawn over him, follow him everywhere, and bear lots and lots of his babies. I don’t have a problem with female characters who want children; I have a problem with the enormous percentage of female characters in Time Enough for Love who proposition Lazarus not by saying, “Hey, you’re pretty cute, want to get together sometime?” but “I want to have your child.” I don’t have a problem with group marriages; I do have a huge problem with marriages between fathers and daughters.

Assuming Time Enough for Love is representative of Heinlein’s portrayal of women… which may or may not be true; I really need to read more Heinlein before making that assessment… then yeah, I have a problem with Heinlein’s portrayal of women.

(His worldbuilding is pretty awesome, though. I have really got to read Stranger in a Strange Land and The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.)

Was that an adult enough discussion for you, Ms. Hoyt?