A Domestic War: The Feminine Discourse of Louisa May Alcott’s "Little Women"
- Emma Mete
- Jan 24, 2023
- 9 min read
Updated: Jan 27, 2023
In a 2002 article on domesticity and nationalism in the nineteenth century novel, Diane Archibald criticizes works of fiction where “the ‘home’ functions both as an oasis for men in the midst of the cruel world…and as a fortress protecting women from contamination by that world” (5). Archibald’s criticism of the nineteenth century novel follows a similar line of literary criticism which, in drawing attention to the oppressive nature of domesticity, neglects to address the role of the female character within the nation understood as the larger domestic space. My focus for this analysis is Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, which follows the life of heroine Jo March as she navigates her literary ambitions and dreams of self-reliance against the constraints placed on nineteenth-century women. In this reflection, I will demonstrate that against the context of the American Civil War, Alcott’s heroine represents women’s resistance to the patriarchal nineteenth- century workforce and subverts cultural systems of power by conceiving a post-war nation that is shaped by feminine discourse. Furthermore, I will show how the novel participates in what I will call a “double domesticity”, whereby the valorization of domesticity is presented as a national value, not simply a feminine value. Within the framework of the national domestic body at war, I will suggest Jo represents what Elizabeth Young calls “the woman author at war with herself,” (441) and blurs the line of conventional gender roles within the context of external and internal conflict.
My analysis will first discuss the historical background of Alcott’s experience as a woman writer influenced heavily by philosophies on the masculine ideal self-reliance, specifically described by Carolyn R. Maibor’s histographical discussion that Alcott “had no real models of women” (88). I will then discuss the historical genre of the Civil War backdrop that has long been the setting of women’s nineteenth-century fiction, and how novels by women define the literary genealogy of Civil War fiction. Next, I will pursue a close reading of Jo’s repeated assertions of masculine qualities and domestic roles as a means to investigate how Alcott seeks to disrupt the gender binary traditionally affirmed by war and national crisis. Finally, I will look at the ways Alcott subverts the kinds of labour traditionally associated with the domestic space through Jo’s approach to work and her ambitions as a writer, teacher, and household supporter. For example, I will investigate how “femininity” plays a role in shaping the discourse around national conflict in the March home, and how the broken body politic is paralleled to the disordered nineteenth-century female body, represented by Jo March. Throughout all sections of the paper, I will demonstrate that Alcott subverts cultural discourse of female labour through the characterization of Jo where domesticity itself is refashioned as being a necessary component for the post-war nation.
In order to appreciate the significance of Alcott’s representation of Jo March in Little Women, it is essential to understand the nineteenth century historical and contextual backdrop that frame Alcott’s authorship. Raised under the influence of her father’s intellectual circle of friends including Emerson and Hawthorne, Alcott, as Carolyn R. Maibor notes, was specifically inspired by Emerson’s philosophies of self- reliance; Maibor suggests that Alcott “took personally his insistence that finding ones vocation is the most pressing issue of young adulthood” (Maibor 88). Maibor outlines how Alcott, in pursuit of her own vocation as a writer, was deeply troubled by the lack of “female role-models” to look to for guidance in this path of self-reliance. Janis Dawson agrees with Maibor, and further outlines how Alcott’s support for women’s labour is based largely on her own experiences in the workforce. Dawson discusses how “for much of Alcott’s childhood and youth, the family was financially dependent on whatever Mrs. Alcott and her daughters were able to earn outside the home” (Dawson 112). For Alcott, her experience in the workforce from a young age taught her the value of women’s work outside of the domestic space, but Maibor suggests that these experiences made her long to earn wages doing what she loved, which was writing (89). As a result of her childhood experience, Maibor argues, Alcott’s pursuit of authorship was rooted in her attempt to break out of defined women’s roles, without becoming “men-like” or masculine (89). Alcott firmly believed in the value of women’s work and that the feminine figure in the nation’s workforce was not only important, but essential for the future of a post-war America (89).
Shifting the historical focus to the state of the nineteenth century national body, Elizabeth Young’s article on Civil War fiction discusses the prevalence of women writers who make up a significant portion of war fiction in the late nineteenth century America. Young argues that women writers “feminized Civil War fiction not only by their presence in the literary marketplace, but also through their self-conscious use of the theme of feminization within their fictional plots” (Young 440). In an essay on the reception of Alcott’s Little Women in Civil War America, Judith Fetterly argues that within the genre of war novels, dominated by the women author, there is a heavy emphasis placed on the domestic space and the representation of women’s role within that space (Fetterly 372). While Fetterly suggests that popularity of women-authored war fiction can be attributed to societies support for separate spheres and women’s role in the home, Young argues instead that these women authors project feminine “domesticity” on the body of the domestic nation where gender and nation function as “reciprocal metaphors”. By uniting the public and private spheres in women-authored war fiction, Young argues that nineteenth-century women writers, including Alcott, are instrumental in becoming the “feminine role models” of self-reliance that Maibor proposes; a concept specifically reflected in Alcott’s construction of her female heroine, Jo.
The opening chapter of the novel, titled “Playing Pilgrims”, introduces readers to the four March sisters framed within a warm domestic setting, discussing ladylike attitudes and dreams. Within this opening chapter, Jo stands as an outlier in comparison to her sisters who, in this discussion of feminine behaviour, associates herself with masculine attributes and characteristics. While Alcott identifies her heroine as “Jo” from the opening moments of the novel, we learn that her full name is Josephine when Beth reminds her to “be contented with making [her] name boyish, and playing brother to us girls” (Alcott 6). Jo’s mannerisms are repeatedly described by her sisters as “boyish” in this opening scene, specifically drawing attention to her constant whistling, her refusal to pin up her hair and her “desire to go fight with Papa” in the war (6). She goes on to dramatically announce that “It’s bad enough to be a girl…when I like boy’s games, and work, and manners. I can’t get over my disappointment in not being a boy” (5). While critics like Judith Fetterly (164) argue that this opening scene disempowers women by suggesting the only way to experience independence is to be a “boy”, I, like Maibor, would argue that Alcott is not characterizing Jo as a man, but with traditionally masculine privledges that reflect agency, liberty and independence. A close reading of Jo’s commentary and representation in this scene illustrates her desire to contribute to the world, outside of the hearth and living room that her restless body is confined in throughout this scene. In Alcott’s representation of domesticity in this scene, the domestic home significantly does not include the patriarchal father figure, a man whom the four sisters adore and admire, specifically Jo. Contrary to Archibald’s historical commentary (5) on the “sacred space” of the home in nineteenth century fictions, the March home is not presented as an “oasis” for men, nor is it “fortress” for women. All four girls, except Amy who is still in school, comment on their work outside of the home each day and their ability to support the family and household based off the wages they (and their mother) individually earn. Jo specifically values the money she earns, and although she dislikes having to work for her Aunt March, she appreciates the opportunity to earn a wage for herself and is eager to support her family. This notion is further evident in the scene where Jo cuts off her hair in exchange for earnings that will help support her mother’s trip to care for the injured Mr. March coming home from the war. Jo comments that “I earned it….I only sold what was my own” (Alcott 171). Through this radical act of selflessness, Jo represents what the domestic space can and should be. Alcott constructs a domestic space that is not confiding to Jo, but rather empowers her ambitions and desires for independence and self-reliance. Although the perception of Jo’s decision to sell her hair can be seen as an action of objectification of women in a more contemporary context , within a nineteenth century culture, Jo represents a radical departure from internalized societal norms of beauty for women. Furthermore, Jo’s decision to cut off her hair allows her to metaphorically participate in the war, like an injured solider going through amputation. Jo values earning her own wage to support her family at all costs, and this domestic space is the better because of Jo’s contributions.
As Jo’s growth and maturity progresses throughout the novel, the context of the Civil War frames a crucial aspect Alcott’s positioning of feminine discourse in a post war nation. As a war novel, Jo’s desire to work and provide for her family is seen primarily through her ambitions of authorship. Young suggests that Jo represents the “figure of the feminized Civil War soldier” (441), and Jo’s writing and desire for authorship metaphorically connect the domestic nation and the domestic home. For Jo, home represents a place a freedom through writing, where she finds peace and inspiration in her private “garret” upstairs where she “scribbles away” at an old desk (Alcott 156). Here, she is allowed creative freedom, and her writing becomes a place where she can insert hero’s but more importantly, “heroines” into her fictions. After her first success of publication, she describes that “to be independent, and to earn the praise of those she loved, were the dearest wishes of her heart” (165). Through Jo’s ambitions of authorship, Alcott is able to construct a domestic space that celebrates women’s work and independence in a way that presents feminine discourse as valuable. Dawson’s article on women and the marketplace of a Civil War America discusses how Jo’s writing pays dividends in the house and pays for comforts for her family (Dawson, 115). For Jo, work is not only a necessity economically, but is something she takes pride in as a form of self-fulfillment. In this way, Alcott sets up the radical suggestion that women do not only have to work for need, rather it can, and should, be something rewarding. Specifically visible when Jo mourns the death of Beth, she turns to writing “simple stories” of family, love and memories, which ultimately bring her healing. Throughout the text, Beth’s struggle with illness is described by Jo using language of war and battle. Jo begs Beth to “work and pray and fight against it” and “don’t give up yet” (Alcott, 396), although ultimately, Beth represents the figure of a martyr in battle, leaving Jo to pick up the pieces and continue the fight. By drawing comparisons between the domestic battle within the imagery and conventions of a Civil War novel, Alcott suggests that women’s work and independence can both heal the domestic household and transform and the domestic nation from war. Just as Jo’s post-war years in the text demonstrate a process of reconstruction and restoration of her vocation as a women writer, Alcott similarly suggests that a post-war America will be saved because of feminine discourse and women’s model of selfhood.
Staring up into the sky one summer afternoon, Jo tells Laurie and her sisters that “I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous; that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream” (Alcott 151). Jo’s most important ambitions for herself significantly do not follow the accepted nineteenth century feminine conventions of matrimony or raising a family. Rather, Jo dreams of ink and paper, making a living for herself, and leaving a lasting impact on her nation. Although she grows, matures and changes throughout the text, Jo’s determination for independence never wavers, and she is able to accomplish all she aspired to and more; publishing a novel, providing for her aging family, and opening a school for boys. As Jo negotiates her femine ambition and determination in a male-driven world, Alcott inserts feminine discourse in the complicated Civil War narrative, and by doing so, suggests that women’s contribution to the workforce is a means of healing for the broken nation. Through Jo’s tragedies and triumphs, Alcott provides a nineteenth century feminine role model whose “topsy-turvy” attitude and passionate loyalty to those she loves re-fashions the definition and value of feminine discourse in a post-war nation.
Works Cited
Alcott, Louisa M. Little Women. New York: Sterling Publishing, 2004.
Archibald, Diana. C. Domesticity, Imperialism, and Emigration in the Victorian Novel. University of Missouri, 2002.
Dawson, Janis. “Little Women Out to Work: Women and the Marketplace in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and Work”. Children’s Literature in Education, vol.34, no.2, 2003, pp.111-130.
Fetterley, Judith. “Little Women: Alcott’s Civil War”. Feminist Studies, vol.5, no.2, 1979, pp.369-383.
Maibor, Carolyn. Labor Pains: Emerson, Hawthorne, & Alcott on Work, Women, & the Development of the Self. Taylor and Francis, 2013.
Young, Elizabeth. “A Wound of One’s Own: Louisa May Alcott’s Civil War Fiction”. The John Hopkins University Press, vol.28, no.3, 1996, pp.439-482.
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