Putting the Hap Back into Happiness: Notes on Sara Ahmed's Killjoy Feminism

saranahmed.com / feministkilljoys.com

 

'My name is Sara Ahmed. I am a feminist killjoy. It is what I do. 

It is how I think. It is my philosophy and my politics.'

 

 

Sara Ahmed has long been interested in feminism and the question of happiness and last year saw publication of The Feminist Killjoy Handbook in which she conveniently brought together many of her ideas and insights gathered over the years on this topic. 

 

In a nutshell, Ahmed wishes for her readers to suspend their belief that happiness is a good thing and to conceive of feminist history as essentially a struggle against happiness; the latter understood as a way in which oppressive social norms are made to seem natural, desirable, and innocent. To paraphrase Nietzsche, in happiness all that is unjust is pronounced joyous and absolved by laughter [1]. 

 

In a society which she regards as sexist, racist, and homophobic, the queer woman of colour - such as herself - has a duty to be unhappy and to defiantly declare herself to be a killjoy, which means, for example, refusing to laugh at unfunny jokes [2] and pointing out the things that systemically divide people; exposing the lies that are said to constitute common sense. 

 

 

II. 

 

On the one hand, I can see the logic of her argument and sympathise with her position. There are very good reasons why we can't all just get along and I've always liked the idea of reclaiming negative stereotypes and epiphets (the humourless feminist; the angry black woman; the unhappy queer). 

 

It's perfectly valid - and probably crucial - to expose the ironic fact that a conventional (and almost compulsory) model of happiness can have very unhappy consequences for some. 

 

On the other hand, however, I fear that Ahmed's joy killing ideology quickly becomes a form of the political asceticism that Foucault warned against in his preface to Anti-Oedipus: "Do not think that one has to be sad in order to be militant, even though the thing one is fighting is abominable." [3] 

 

I don't know, maybe I'm more under the spell of French theorists than Ahmed; that I still hear, for example, the laugh of the Medusa and still affirm a practice of writing which is above all else joyful and premised upon the idea that revolution begins with a smile and does not necessitate the turning of warm flesh into cold stone, or the hardening of hearts [4]. 

 

Ultimately, when I start reading Ahmed the words of Emma Goldman also come to mind: 'If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be part of your revolution' [5]. 

 

 

III.

 

Having said that, readers are encouraged to make up their own minds and can do so by clicking here and accessing one of the concluding sections of her handbook, entitled 'A Killjoy Manifesto', and which, amongst other things, attempts to show how feminist principles are born of adversity and bumping up against a world that does not live in accordance with feminist principles. 

 

If you are: 

 

(i) unwilling to make happiness your cause ...

 

(ii) willing to cause unhappiness to others ...

 

(iii) keen to support others who are willing to cause unhappiness ... 

 

then you might just be the kind of committed, grumpy, ungrateful, bond-snapping killjoy that Ahmed celebrates and wishes to form a community with. 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes 

 

[1] See Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Book III, 'The Seven Seals', section 6. 

 

[2] Principle 4 of 'A Killjoy Manifesto' is: I Am Not Willing to Laugh at Jokes Designed to Cause Offense. In it, Ahmed asserts that humour is "a crucial technique for reproducing inequality and injustice". She also admits that the killjoy "exists in close proximity to the figure of the oversensitive subject who is too easily offended". 

      See The Feminist Killjoy Handbook (Allen Lane, 2023), pp. 261-262. I provide a link to this concluding section of Ahmed's book (pp. 251-268) later in the post. 

 

[3] Michel Foucault, Preface to Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-Oedipus, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane (University of Minnesota Press, 1983), p. xiil. 

 

[4] I'm referring here to the famous essay by Hélène Cixous. Originally written in French as Le Rire de la Méduse (1975), a revised version was translated into English by Paula Cohen and Keith Cohen as 'The Laugh of the Medusa' the following year. See my short post on this essay published on 24 June 2013: click here. 

 

[5] Although this line is frequently attributed to anarcho-feminist Emma Goldman, it never actually appears in any of her work. It was invented by the American anarchist Jack Frager in 1973 for a series of t-shirts and rather nicely transforms a much longer paragraph from the first volume of Goldman's two-volume autobiography into a memorable slogan: 

      "At the dances I was one of the most untiring and gayest. One evening a cousin of Sasha, a young boy, took me aside. With a grave face, as if he were about to announce the death of a dear comrade, he whispered to me that it did not behoove an agitator to dance. Certainly not with such reckless abandon, anyway. It was undignified for one who was on the way to become a force in the anarchist movement. My frivolity would only hurt the Cause. I grew furious at the impudent interference of the boy. I told him to mind his own business. I was tired of having the Cause constantly thrown into my face. I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from convention and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy. I insisted that our Cause could not expect me to become a nun and that the movement would not be turned into a cloister. If it meant that, I did not want it." 

      - See Emma Goldman, Living My Life, Vol. 1 (Alfred A. Knopf, 1931), Ch. 5, p. 56. 

 

 

Bonus: those who are particularly interested in this topic might like to click here to watch a book launch event for The Feminist Killjoy Handbook at The People's Forum (NYC), with Sara Ahmed & Mona Eltahawy in conversation (3 Oct 2023).

 

 

Dancing Jesus

 

 

I. 

 

'Lord of the Dance' is one of those hymns we were expected to sing when I was a young child at school which I truly hated.

 

The problem was, I had a difficult time accepting such a groovy Jesus; even as a six-year-old, I could sense that Our Lord and Saviour, weighed down as he was by the sins of mankind - not to mention a heavy wooden cross - wasn't likely to be light on his feet.

 

The song was thus revisionist at best; fraudulent at worst. 

 

For the fact is, there is no record in scripture of Jesus laughing and I'm pretty sure he didn't dance (or sing) a great deal (if at all) either; he wept, he prayed, he agonised over things, but the Man of Sorrows didn't get down and boogie nor strut his funky stuff. 

 

And I'm sure Sydney Carter, who wrote the lyrics to the hymn - having adapted the melody from an old Shaker song - knew this perfectly well. 

 

Indeed, according his own account, 'Lord of the Dance' was only partly written with Jesus in mind; a statue of the Hindu deity Shiva that sat on his desk also inspired him; as did the idea of Jesus as some kind of Pied Piper; as did the possibility of a cosmic Christ who inspired alien races in far away galaxies to dance the shape and pattern which is at the heart of reality. 

      

It is astonishing, when one considers this, that the song became such a huge and immediate hit with Christians all over the English-speaking world: I mean, the tune is quite catchy and it has an optimistic message at its heart - as well as an antisemitic verse [1] - but as at least one commentator has pointed out the underlying theology is unorthodox to say the very least.

 

Even Carter was surprised by the hymn's success. He later confessed: "I did not think the churches would like it at all. I thought many people would find it pretty far flown, probably heretical and anyway dubiously Christian." [2] 

 

 

II. 

 

In some ways, thinking about the hymn now, Carter's dancing Jesus reminds me of the resurrected figure in Lawrence's The Escaped Cock (1929) and there's the same interesting mix of Christianity and paganism in the lines "I danced in the morning / When the world begun / And I danced in the moon / And the stars and the sun" [3] which one finds in the latter. 

 

Thus, although the song still irritates the hell out of me - it's just so impossibly upbeat - I acknowledge its heretical character and the fact that it counters the puritanism of those who would reject song and dance as a vital part of religious worship.    

 

To paraphrase Emma Goldman: If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your religion. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The third verse of Carter's hymn implies collective Jewish responsibility for the death of Jesus. This dangerous idea of Jewish deicide - which conflicts with Catholic doctrine - is central to much religious antisemitism. 

 

[2] Sydney Carter quoted in his obituary in The Telegraph (16 March 2004): click here. 

     

[3] Sydney Carter, opening four lines of the first verse of 'Lord of the Dance' (1963). For full lyrics and further information visit the Stainer & Bell website: click here.  

 

On Those Who Have Been Refused Entry Into the Land of the Free ...

Photo by John Tiberi of the Sex Pistols 

(Steve Jones / Johnny Rotten / Sid Vicious / Paul Cook) 

on the eve of their first American tour (January 1978)

 

 

I. 

 

As might be imagined, there exists a fairly extensive list of notable persons who have been deported from the United States for one reason or another, often on the grounds that they are aliens who are hostile to the American way of life defined in terms of motherhood and apple pie [1].  

 

It's a list that includes, for example, the English comic actor and director Charlie Chaplin and the Russian political activist and writer Emma Goldman; the latter described by J. Edgar Hoover shortly before her removal in 1919, as one of the most dangerous women alive.

 

II. 

 

But it's not this list or the figures upon it which interests me here: I am, rather, concerned with the list of notable people who have been refused entry into the Land of the Free ...

 

This a list that includes Kurt Blome, the high-ranking Nazi scientist who performed illicit medical experiments on concentration camp prisoners, Gerry Adams, the Sinn Fein President and IRA sympathiser, and, rather more surprisingly, footballer Diego Maradona, domestic goddess Nigella Lawson, and singer-songwriter Lily Allen [2].    

I think my favourite entry on the list, however, is Sebastian Horsley, who, after arriving at Newwark Airport in March 2008, was denied entry into the United States on the grounds of moral turpitude. 

 

After eight hours of questioning - and despite the fact that he had removed his nail polish as a concession to American sensibilities - Horsley was placed on a plane and sent back to London; his planned book tour and six-month stay in the US over before it had even begun [3]. 

 

In failing to enter and tour America, Horsley actually goes one better than his heroes the Sex Pistols, who, seen above in passport photos taken at the time, were initially denied visas by the US Embassy in London on the eve of their first American tour (members of the band having committed a number of criminal misdemeanours).   

 

Although obliged to cancel several shows, the band were, of course, eventually allowed in to the States, thanks to the efforts of their American record company, Warner Bros., and the lawyers acting on their behalf. Unfortunately, as everyone knows, things did not go well - which is not to say they didn't go as Malcolm hoped; the plan being not to sell tickets or records, but incite mayhem and disillusion [4]. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] It might be noted that only those designated as aliens are subject to removal from the United States. In other words, a U.S. citizen or a U.S. national cannot be removed from the United States under any circumstances.  

[2] Maradona had numerous criminal convictions in Argentina, Italy, and elsewhere; Nigella was barred from boarding a flight leaving London for LA in 2014, having recently confessed to a cocaine habit; Lily Allen was refused a U.S. visa for having assaulted a photographer in 2007 and for singing in a mockney accent. 

 

[3] Torpedophiles will be aware that I have already written a post on the idea of moral turpitude with reference to the case of Sebastian Horsley: click here.   

[4] At the Winterland Ballroom, San Francisco, on the 14th of January, 1978, the Sex Pistols self-imploded before the eyes of the world and exposed rock music as a dying beast that needed putting out of its misery. To watch the show in full, click here. 

Letter to a Harsh Critic

Deleuze isn't the only one to receive mail from harsh critics containing a vicious mixture of aggression, accusation, and abuse. Almost everyday in my inbox there's something from someone or other outlining the weaknesses of my arguments and my personal shortcomings; i.e. a sort of celebration of my supposedly sorry condition. 

Thus, for example, I was recently informed by a correspondent - who shall remain nameless - that I'm a text-obsessed, theory-loving intellectual with no experience of actual events in the real world and that this - coupled to my continued support for radical feminism - makes me the kind of weak and unmanly figure who refuses to take a firm or fixed position and simply dances round the issues.

Obviously, these charges are meant to make me feel bad or guilty in some manner and are intended not just to provoke a response, but to wound and to shame. But, unfortunately for my finger-pointing and finger-wagging friend, they simply make me smile.

For one thing, it's true that I do love books. Indeed, I'd proudly identify myself as a homotextual. However, I must insist that reading and writing is not something abstract or ideal; rather, it's a fully material process that is itself an actual event in the real world. In other words, theory is a form of praxis. As an anti-dualist, I simply don't subscribe to the metaphysical model that places thinking on one side of a divide and doing on the other.

Further, I would advise my critic to be extremely wary of using the word 'intellectual' in a derogatory manner as if it were a term of abuse. For whilst there is a long tradition of anti-intellectualism, it's really not one that any decent individual should wish to belong to, originating as it does in French anti-Semitism (the term 'intellectual' having been coined by those who sought the conviction of Dreyfus to sneer at his supporters such as Zola). 

As for this idea of skirting or dancing around ideas like a woman ... Well, I can't see anything wrong with that either: I am openly transpositional and admire all those individuals who are light-footed as well as lighthearted and quick-witted. My critic seems to think that being flat-footed, iron-fisted, and pig-headed makes one manly and Nietzschean. But he's mistaken on both counts: it just makes boring. And stupid. As Zarathustra says, he would never make himself the enemy of young girls with fair ankles. Besides, what is all great writing - be it philosophical or literary in character - other than a process of becoming-woman?

One is tempted in closing to paraphrase Emma Goldman: If I can't dance, then I don't want to be part of your libertarian revolution! And just as Deleuze advises Michel Cressole so I would advise my critic: as charming, intelligent, and mischievous as you are, you might also try to be a bit kinder.


Disclaimer: The character appearing as my critic in the above post is of course entirely fictitious; a functional component of the text. As of course am I in my role as author and narrator. Any resemblance to actual persons outside of this textual space, living or dead, is purely coincidental. My apologies to those for whom this goes without saying.