Elise Cowen: An Archetype for Sexism's Intended Short-Term Memory

I entered the Evanston Public Library and was greeted by, most likely, the second youngest individual there, after me. He asked, “Can I help you?” “I’m looking for an event about the poet E...” I said. “Elise Cowen! Over here,” he replied. Projected on the screen that seemed unusually distant for such an intimate setting was a black and white photo of Elise Cowen, a whose absence in literature’s history is less mysterious than her character itself. Tony Trigilio, the director of the Creative Writing/Poetry program at Columbia College, the co-editor of the poetry magazine “Court Green,” as well as a published author, took his place in front of the distant screen. His long, wavy, grey hair placed him right alongside Cowen. His devout interest in her as a literary scholar presents itself as an emotional investment of his that grew whilst editing the book “Elise Cowen: Poems and Fragments,” and, perhaps, is in part due to his 1960’s and 70’s presence in present day.

Elise Cowen was born in 1933 in Long Island, NY to a middle class Jewish family. She attended Barnard College and graduated in 1951. Apart of the Beat Generation of poets, Cowen participated in a literary community and generation that far surpassed writing style: it was a lifestyle. Cowen’s parents were in denial of her thoughts, behavior, and direction, which included drug-use and sexual activity with both men and women. Thus, upon her death — a suicide in which she jumped out of a closed window — her parents burned her writing notebooks as a “favor” to her.

At Barnard, a professor of hers introduced her to Allen Ginsberg, a fellow Beat poet who is well known and celebrated, which Trigilio would argue is not given to Cowen because of her identity as a woman. Ginsberg visited a psychoanalyst whom he confided in, stating he was gay, and the psychoanalyst encouraged him to to date women in an effort to “cure” his homosexuality. Thus, Ginsberg dated Cowen as a heterosexual experimentation, and while they loved each other, Ginsberg eventually ended the relationship, maintaining that he was homosexual and wanted a platonic relationship with Cowen. Cowen’s relationship with Ginsberg has been written in history as the archetypal “unrequited love” narrative that is tainted with sexism. Cowen is portrayed as the “mad girlfriend,” a play into the association of mental illness with women. According to Trigilio, this type of narrative is a cultural projection of our fear of the female artist and her creativity.

Upon her suicide on February 27, 1962, many news sources and magazines romanticized her death, furthering the public’s misunderstanding of Cowen’s literary contributions and historical significance. One such news source said that by jumping through a closed window she was “reaching for a microphone,” as if the community were unaware of her depression. However, it is true that, as a woman, her poetry and frankness about the psyche were often repressed. A different source, a magazine, did a feature on female writers who committed suicide, including Cowen. In the feature, they described the dress/clothing the women were wearing upon their deaths with a store attributed to the attire for readers to buy similar articles. This disgusting minimization of women reminded me of the campaign that took place surrounding the Oscars: #AskHerMore. The campaign sought to prompt interviewers/paparazzi to ask the women more than just who designed their dress.

Women are often forgotten in our history. Creative, daring women are almost always forgotten. Cowen’s legacy, and Trujillo's dedication to restoring it in the public’s mind, serves as a reminder of the need to eradicate the stigmas surrounding female audacity and impact.

Since 1911

On Friday, March 6, about 40 individuals — 4 of which were men — gathered in Francis W. Parker School’s Harris Center for a celebration of International Women’s Day, March 8. The event was produced by a Parker club, Gender Matters, which comprises 10 students, with French teacher Lauren Pritikin as its sponsor.  “IWD is a day when women are recognized for their achievements without regard to nationality, ethnicity or cultural and political differences,” an advertisement for the event read. “It is a day for looking back on past struggles and accomplishments and looking ahead to the opportunities that await future generations of women.” This year, the event’s focus was on women in the arts.

The first International Women’s Day was held in 1911, according to the International Women’s Day’s website. In 1908, the oppression of women was brutal and prevalent, inspiring many to become more vocal in campaigning for change. 15,000 women marched through New York City demanding shorter hours, better pay, and voting rights. Then, in 1909, in accordance with a declaration by the Socialist Party of America, the first National Women’s Day was observed, primarily by women, across the U.S. on February 28. It was celebrated on the last Sunday of February until 1913. In 1910, a second International COnference of WOrking Women was held in Copenhagen, Germany. Clara Zetkin, the leader of the Women’s Office for the Social Democratic Party in Germany, suggested the observance of an International Women’s Day, which was greeted with unanimous approval by the other 100 women at the conference. Less than a week after the first celebration of International Women’s Day, March 8, 1911, on March 25, the ‘Triangle Fire’ in New York City took place in which 140 working women, mostly Italian and Jewish immigrants, were killed. The event drew attention to the dangerous working conditions in which women were expected to work, and labor legislation reform became a focus of subsequent International Women’s Day events. Today, International Women’s Day accounts for the betterment of many elements of female and male life.

While the audience in the Harris Center munched on falafel and pita, Pritikin introduced the event with a few videos. One video highlighted Eldzier Cortor, a black artist whose work is being displayed at the Art Institute of Chicago. Much of his work, as the video enumerated, “uses black women as an archetype for all people.” I was already thinking about my identity as a woman, but this video helped me to consider what always fascinates me — identity intersectionality. Throughout the rest of the event, I was not only concentrated on the presenters’ female identity, but also the other pieces of their identity which I could see or they included in their presentations.

Pritikin also showed a commercial produced by the women’s hygiene brand Always that was aired during the Superbowl. I “watched” the Superbowl. I “watched” rather than watched for reasons I have mentioned in previous blogposts: as a feminist, I can’t support the false definitions of manhood that the NFL expects of its players and viewers. But I watched, not “watched,” Always’ commercial — #likeagirl. Masculinity has become everything femininity is not, and thus, doing something “like a girl” is an insult.

The first two women to speak were Judy Hoffman and Winifred Haun. Hoffman, a filmmaker and director, introduced herself promptly as “67 years old, so I am second wave feminism.” As a student, she was forbidden from playing sports and required to wear skirts to school. She was given messages to “shut up, behave properly, get married, and be a school teacher.” Hoffman refused to be confined by conservative expectations, proving so by participating in protests against the Vietnam War and working indirectly with the Black Panther movement. Furthermore, Hoffman engaged with the Chicago Women’s Liberation Union, which held that women’s liberation wasn’t just for women — a modern concept of gender equity that I have mentioned in previous blogposts. The Union included a film union, to which Hoffman belonged as the first woman camera assistant in Chicago. Hoffman’s humble presence suggested a lot about her love for film and making connections. She encouraged the women in the audience to use their passion to dispel traditional myths and underestimations.

Haun’s artistic medium is dance. “A sculptor needs marble like a choreographer needs a dance company,” she said. Haun discussed the challenges of pursuing a career whilst being a present mother. Women are no longer expected to make motherhood their career, however, when they do, it is minimized, and when they don’t, it is considered distant and unloving. For Haun, it was finding just the right balance so as to please and fulfill herself, both of which required mothering and choreographing. “As a woman, just know you’re going to have it harder,” Haun said to close. The “knowing” is that which makes it harder to accept.