Tytöt, pojat ja sukupuolinen häirintä

In this research I ask what is interpreted as sex-based harassment by 15-16-year old girls and boys. By sex-based harassment I refer to one-sided, unwanted attention that is based on gender and that makes the target feel embarrassed, frightened, hurt or angry. My focus is not on the most overt cases of harassment but rather on everyday encounters. While young people differentiate between harassing and non-harassing attention, at the same time they define, assign value to and construct differences and power relations on the basis of gender, age and ethnicity, for example. My main data consists of essays (N 104, 54 girls, 54 boys) and thematic interviews (N 14; 20 girls, 3 boys) of ninth graders of a secondary school in Helsinki. In the essays and interviews, students construe the border between pleasant and unpleasant, tolerable and intolerable attention as clear in principle, but, they suggest that in practice this border is ambivalent, negotiable and contextual. The interpretations of incidents are justified by referring to features of the target, the scene or the perpetrator. Targets of harassment are most often construed as being girls who are characterized as thin-skinned, but at the same time they are expected to be understanding toward any sex-based attention they may get, particularly when it is not physical. On the other hand, girls are regarded as equal and even active participants in incidents of harassment. Such statements include considerations of how girls either reject or invite particular kinds of attention by their actions and outward appearance. Forms of harassment, ways of understanding it as well as overcoming it vary according to spatial context. By situating incidents in different spaces and places, young people contrast their experiences with ordinary and predictable non-harassment that takes place e.g. in discos and unusual and unexpected harassment that takes place e.g. in the city streets in the daytime. The behaviour of boys harassing a girls is naturalized by appealing to young masculinity and the childishness but also strong sexual drive which is seen as characteristic of teenage boys. On the other hand, sex-based harassment is racialized and pathologized in ways that separate the phenomenon from young, Finnish, normal masculinity. Both the material experiences of the young people and the definitions of the parties involved in harassing incidents are gendered. Girls encounter and deal with sexualized commenting and unwanted approaches much more often and in a more intensive way than boys. Furthermore, there is a vast cultural repertoire of acceptable accounts that can be mobilised in order to excuse male harassers, to critically evaluate the appearance or action of the female targets and to divide the responsibility between the female target and the male perpetrator.

Minor Moves: Growth, Fugitivity, and Children's Physical Movement

From tendencies to reduce the Underground Railroad to the imperative "follow the north star" to the iconic images of Ruby Bridges' 1960 "step forward" on the stairs of William Frantz Elementary School, America prefers to picture freedom as an upwardly mobile development. This preoccupation with the subtractive and linear force of development makes it hard to hear the palpable steps of so many truant children marching in the Movement and renders illegible the nonlinear movements of minors in the Underground. Yet a black fugitive hugging a tree, a white boy walking alone in a field, or even pieces of a discarded raft floating downstream like remnants of child's play are constitutive gestures of the Underground's networks of care and escape. Responding to 19th-century Americanists and cultural studies scholars' important illumination of the child as central to national narratives of development and freedom, "Minor Moves" reads major literary narratives not for the child and development but for the fugitive trace of minor and growth.

In four chapters, I trace the physical gestures of Nathaniel Hawthorne's Pearl, Harriet Beecher Stowe's Topsy, Harriet Wilson's Frado, and Mark Twain's Huck against the historical backdrop of the Fugitive Slave Act and the passing of the first compulsory education bills that made truancy illegal. I ask how, within a discourse of independence that fails to imagine any serious movements in the minor, we might understand the depictions of moving children as interrupting a U.S. preoccupation with normative development and recognize in them the emergence of an alternative imaginary. To attend to the movement of the minor is to attend to what the discursive order of a development-centered imaginary deems inconsequential and what its grammar can render only as mistakes. Engaging the insights of performance studies, I regard what these narratives depict as childish missteps (Topsy's spins, Frado's climbing the roof) as dances that trouble the narrative's discursive order. At the same time, drawing upon the observations of black studies and literary theory, I take note of the pressure these "minor moves" put on the literal grammar of the text (Stowe's run-on sentences and Hawthorne's shaky subject-verb agreements). I regard these ungrammatical moves as poetic ruptures from which emerges an alternative and prior force of the imaginary at work in these narratives--a force I call "growth."

Reading these "minor moves" holds open the possibility of thinking about a generative association between blackness and childishness, one that neither supports racist ideas of biological inferiority nor mandates in the name of political uplift the subsequent repudiation of childishness. I argue that recognizing the fugitive force of growth indicated in the interplay between the conceptual and grammatical disjunctures of these minor moves opens a deeper understanding of agency and dependency that exceeds notions of arrested development and social death. For once we interrupt the desire to picture development (which is to say the desire to picture), dependency is no longer a state (of social death or arrested development) of what does not belong, but rather it is what Édouard Glissant might have called a "departure" (from "be[ing] a single being"). Topsy's hard-to-see pick-pocketing and Pearl's running amok with brown men in the market are not moves out of dependency but indeed social turns (a dance) by way of dependency. Dependent, moving and ungrammatical, the growth evidenced in these childish ruptures enables different stories about slavery, freedom, and childishness--ones that do not necessitate a repudiation of childishness in the name of freedom, but recognize in such minor moves a fugitive way out.

Sonic Movie Memories: Sound, Childhood, and American Cinema

Though the trend rarely receives attention, since the 1970s many American filmmakers have been taking sound and music tropes from children’s films, television shows, and other forms of media and incorporating those sounds into films intended for adult audiences. Initially, these references might seem like regressive attempts at targeting some nostalgic desire to relive childhood. However, this dissertation asserts that these children’s sounds are instead designed to reconnect audience members with the multi-faceted fantasies and coping mechanisms that once, through children’s media, helped these audience members manage life’s anxieties. Because sound is the sense that Western audiences most associate with emotion and memory, it offers audiences immediate connection with these barely conscious longings. The first chapter turns to children’s media itself and analyzes Disney’s 1950s forays into television. The chapter argues that by selectively repurposing the gentlest sonic devices from the studio’s films, television shows like Disneyland created the studio’s signature sentimental “Disney sound.” As a result, a generation of baby boomers like Steven Spielberg comes of age and longs to recreate that comforting sound world. The second chapter thus focuses on Spielberg, who incorporates Disney music in films like Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977). Rather than recreate Disney’s sound world, Spielberg uses this music as a springboard into a new realm I refer to as “sublime refuge” - an acoustic haven that combines overpowering sublimity and soothing comfort into one fantastical experience. The second half of the dissertation pivots into more experimental children’s cartoons like Gerald McBoing-Boing (1951) - cartoons that embrace audio-visual dissonance in ways that soothe even as they create tension through a phenomenon I call “comfortable discord.” In the final chapter, director Wes Anderson reveals that these sonic tensions have just as much appeal to adults. In films like The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), Anderson demonstrates that comfortable discord can simultaneously provide a balm for anxiety and create an open-ended space that makes empathetic connections between characters possible. The dissertation closes with a call to rethink nostalgia, not as a romanticization of the past, but rather as a reconnection with forgotten affective channels.