- 14 Mar 2002
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Lie back and think of Japan
Barbara Ellen
Sunday April 1, 2001
The Observer
The geisha is, and has always been, the pretty painted face of Japanese patriarchy. No amount of waffle about tradition, ritual, art, silken kimonos, tea ceremonies, and all those other things that make ignorant, sensation-greedy Westerners go weak at the knees, has been able to disguise the ethical fungus at the heart of geisha culture. We are always hearing that these white-faced dollies are not 'strictly prostitutes' and Western tourists are happy to snap away at these willow-pattern workers in a way they never would at the women of King's Cross.
Nevertheless, geishas remain as they always were - satin-slippered throwbacks, trapped in a psychosexual halfway house between companion, hostess, servant and *****.
Strip away all the trimmings, the beauty, grace and mystery of what Liza Dalby, the first foreigner to become a geisha, called 'the flower and willow world', and you're left with the vulgar reality of a very peculiar brand of a glorified hostess, who is quite happy to bang their married john, and then pour him a nice post-coital cup of tea. Which explains why it would be impossible to transplant the geisha on to Western society. Our prostitutes would do the sex, in a skimpy kimono if necessary (whatever!), but they'd doubtless draw the line at putting the kettle on afterwards.
Bearing this in mind, if we are to look for geisha-parallels in Western culture, maybe we should stop gawping at the streets of King's Cross and look inside the staid homesteads of suburbia, as well as the 'self help' industry which serves them. For, it seems to me, that, unlike hookers, ordinary women of the West seem more than happy to go a bit 'geisha' if that's what it takes to rescue their sham-relationships. If you don't accept that, then just think about how often we've heard that domesticity is the new destiny, or subservience is the new pashmina? If you still don't buy it, then take a look at the latest of these tomes to be published here, The Surrendered Wife by US housewife and self-styled 'feminist and former shrew' Laura Doyle. Then find me a prostitute who would lower herself to read it.
Self-help books have long been the amyl nitrite, the gay-disco 'poppers', of the female psyche - addictive in their own way, but decimating millions of brain cells with every sour, hectoring, ill-informed hit. Such tomes like to give the lie that male-female dynamics can be handled like Rubik's Cubes - a few clumsy twists and it's all solved - and The Surrendered Wife is no different. Having read Doyle's book, and seen her ranting on Richard and Judy, I can tell you that she dresses up 'surrendering' very prettily, but, basically, she is arguing that bovine is the new emancipated. In her view, the woman should hand over financial power to the man, obey even if she doesn't agree, and say yes to sex even if she doesn't feel like it. And if the man doesn't feel like sex? 'Put on a negligee and lay on the bed with a book,' purrs Doyle. Down boys!
When relinquishing financial power, and kowtowing to men is suddenly promoted as the fashionable lifestyle choice, you know it's all gone horribly wrong. Moreover, at least the classic geishas got to exude mystery and history. Now we get twinsetted harridans sitting on daytime-TV sofas telling other women that the way forward is to lie around in baby doll nighties, reading improving literature.
Indeed, what's really interesting about all this is not how successful The Surrendered Wife is (there's a ****** born every moment and we're all watching Richard and Judy), nor how little it takes to throw generations of hard-won autonomy away, but how mundane and dowdy they have made geisha-style behaviour seem. Not to mention ugly and stupid. Even the dumbest hooker on the street knows where to draw the line between sex and love, and how to build a spiritual wall between her job and her essential self. By contrast, in the case of the geishas, both of the classic Eastern and new-style Western varieties, femininity itself seems to be up for sale.
Copyright ﾂｩ Guardian Newspapers Limited 2001
Barbara Ellen
Sunday April 1, 2001
The Observer
The geisha is, and has always been, the pretty painted face of Japanese patriarchy. No amount of waffle about tradition, ritual, art, silken kimonos, tea ceremonies, and all those other things that make ignorant, sensation-greedy Westerners go weak at the knees, has been able to disguise the ethical fungus at the heart of geisha culture. We are always hearing that these white-faced dollies are not 'strictly prostitutes' and Western tourists are happy to snap away at these willow-pattern workers in a way they never would at the women of King's Cross.
Nevertheless, geishas remain as they always were - satin-slippered throwbacks, trapped in a psychosexual halfway house between companion, hostess, servant and *****.
Strip away all the trimmings, the beauty, grace and mystery of what Liza Dalby, the first foreigner to become a geisha, called 'the flower and willow world', and you're left with the vulgar reality of a very peculiar brand of a glorified hostess, who is quite happy to bang their married john, and then pour him a nice post-coital cup of tea. Which explains why it would be impossible to transplant the geisha on to Western society. Our prostitutes would do the sex, in a skimpy kimono if necessary (whatever!), but they'd doubtless draw the line at putting the kettle on afterwards.
Bearing this in mind, if we are to look for geisha-parallels in Western culture, maybe we should stop gawping at the streets of King's Cross and look inside the staid homesteads of suburbia, as well as the 'self help' industry which serves them. For, it seems to me, that, unlike hookers, ordinary women of the West seem more than happy to go a bit 'geisha' if that's what it takes to rescue their sham-relationships. If you don't accept that, then just think about how often we've heard that domesticity is the new destiny, or subservience is the new pashmina? If you still don't buy it, then take a look at the latest of these tomes to be published here, The Surrendered Wife by US housewife and self-styled 'feminist and former shrew' Laura Doyle. Then find me a prostitute who would lower herself to read it.
Self-help books have long been the amyl nitrite, the gay-disco 'poppers', of the female psyche - addictive in their own way, but decimating millions of brain cells with every sour, hectoring, ill-informed hit. Such tomes like to give the lie that male-female dynamics can be handled like Rubik's Cubes - a few clumsy twists and it's all solved - and The Surrendered Wife is no different. Having read Doyle's book, and seen her ranting on Richard and Judy, I can tell you that she dresses up 'surrendering' very prettily, but, basically, she is arguing that bovine is the new emancipated. In her view, the woman should hand over financial power to the man, obey even if she doesn't agree, and say yes to sex even if she doesn't feel like it. And if the man doesn't feel like sex? 'Put on a negligee and lay on the bed with a book,' purrs Doyle. Down boys!
When relinquishing financial power, and kowtowing to men is suddenly promoted as the fashionable lifestyle choice, you know it's all gone horribly wrong. Moreover, at least the classic geishas got to exude mystery and history. Now we get twinsetted harridans sitting on daytime-TV sofas telling other women that the way forward is to lie around in baby doll nighties, reading improving literature.
Indeed, what's really interesting about all this is not how successful The Surrendered Wife is (there's a ****** born every moment and we're all watching Richard and Judy), nor how little it takes to throw generations of hard-won autonomy away, but how mundane and dowdy they have made geisha-style behaviour seem. Not to mention ugly and stupid. Even the dumbest hooker on the street knows where to draw the line between sex and love, and how to build a spiritual wall between her job and her essential self. By contrast, in the case of the geishas, both of the classic Eastern and new-style Western varieties, femininity itself seems to be up for sale.
Copyright ﾂｩ Guardian Newspapers Limited 2001
