The Performative Gender Mosaic: Masculinity in Harper Lee’sTo Kill A Mockingbird and Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun

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Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird and Lorraine Hansberry’s A

Raisin in the Sun are not works that are commonly paired

together. This could be for any number of reasons, not the

least of which is that they represent different genres and

therefore have different implications. Whatever the cause,

the failure to recognize some cohesion between these two

texts creates an incomplete picture of the social fabric

which gave rise to them.

Both works are most famously known for their treatment

of racial injustice in 20th century America: Raisin for its

“insider” account of the post World War II oppression felt

heavily by the African American community and Mockingbird for

its portrayal of the still, small voice of one white

Southerner who took a stand against that oppression. While

both works are most often examined through the lens of race,

they each address issues of class and gender as well. Both

having been authored by women in mid-twentieth century

America, it is interesting how these texts depict very

unique representations of gender. Of course, the different

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perspectives offered in these texts are no doubt related to

the differences in their respective authors.

These two women seemingly have very little in common:

one a white Southerner, the other a black Chicagoan. And

naturally, they wrote and lived as distinct individuals.

However, Hansberry and Lee have some commonalities that

serve to strengthen the different perspectives we see in

their work and make it a worthwhile endeavor to study these

texts as part of a larger concept of the time.

Often, it hinders the reading of a text to assume that

the author is in some way biographically inscribed within

his or her work. As a critical audience, we must accept

that the text is itself intertextual and not a direct

representation of the author’s ideology. That being said,

it is often hard to ignore the similarities between an

author’s life and work and it may be most helpful to

consider any autobiographical information as a subtext

within the larger work. Author’s and texts are, after all,

products of their specific place and time. Reading these two

texts and their authors within their individual and somewhat

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overlapping historical contexts, can serve to provide a more

meaningful reading of their place in contemporaneous

culture.

In the same year, 1950, both women dropped out of

college and moved to New York to become writers. (CITATION)

Arriving in the Big Apple during a very tumultuous time in

America, the women reacted very differently to the city’s

literary scene. Hansberry, whose family had long had

connections with Paul Robeson, W. E. B. DuBois and others,

became very involved in the political and literary culture.

(CITATION) Lee, who was herself a childhood friend of the

soon-to-be famous author, Truman Capote, withdrew from the

limelight, preferring to keep an intimate circle of close

friends and family. (CITATION)

Interestingly enough Hansberry and Lee were penning

these two works simultaneously in the late 1950’s. Raisin

debuted on Broadway in March of 1959 and was an instant

sensation, winning Hansberry the coveted New York Drama

Critics Circle Award for Best Play of the Year. (Carter, ix)

Just over a year later, in the summer of 1960, the

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Mockingbird release was another wild success. Hollywood

versions of both works were released in 1961, Raisin winning

at the Cannes Film Festival and Mockingbird at the Academy

Awards.

While no research suggests that the two women ever knew

one another (particularly with Lee’s reclusive lifestyle),

they clearly must have known of one another after receiving

such acclaim for their work. Operating in the same sphere,

it is possible that Lee, at least, may have known of

Hansberry earlier given her connection to Capote who, along

with Hansberry, was a contributing author to local

publications such as the Village Voice.

Born in 1926 and 1930 respectively, Lee and Hansberry

both experienced a Depression Era childhood that fostered a

respect for those who led meager lives. Of course, not

everyone suffered the poverty of this era and Lorraine

Hansberry did not. Her father, Carl Hansberry, provided a

solid living for his family in real estate and other

endeavors. Her family’s comfortable finances did not keep

young Hansberry from being touched by the fury of a country

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in the midst of financial despair and, at five years old,

she was tormented and assaulted by her poverty stricken

classmates for having worn a white fur coat to school.

(Cheney, 3) However, she refused to take offense, instead

admiring their refusal of shame.

Lee too was affected by the economic climate. Although

her father was a lawyer, politician and newspaper editor,

the family was not nearly as well off as the Hansberry’s.

In an interview, Lee recalled how the lack of finances

encouraged creativity: “We didn’t have much money. Nobody

had any money. We didn’t have toys, nothing was done for us,

so the result was that we lived in our imaginations most of

the time.” (Shields, 46)

For Lee, there are many elements from her childhood

that make appearances in her novel. The character of

Atticus has quite a bit in common with her father, A.C. Lee,

the nomadic Dill is a representation of Capote as a child

and a lawsuit against Lee was threatened by a neighboring

family who felt that the Radley’s were an all too accurate

depiction of them. (CITATION)

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Hansberry also drew from elements of her personal

experience in her work. Her father, like the Younger family

in Raisin, moved his young family to a new home in an all

white neighborhood. During the time that they lived there,

the family was held prisoners in their own home while

neighbors harassed them. One angry neighbor threw a brick

through a window of the home, which narrowly missed 8-year-

old Lorraine and became lodged in the wall. (CITATION)

One of the most interesting similarities between

Hansberry and Lee is their rejection of traditional female

roles. As Steven Carter states of Hansberry in Hansberry’s

Drama:

“Her whole way of living was a repudiation of the

limitations that society has tried to place on

women. Instead of seeking fulfillment in the

traditional limiting roles of homemaker, mother,

pillar of the church, or sexual object, she sought

it in artistic creation, intellectual speculation,

political struggle, public activism, and the

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pursuit of knowledge about all aspects of life.”

(Carter, 4)

While Lee’s quiet and private lifestyle makes it

difficult to apply Carter’s argument to her, it is clear

that she questioned society’s prescriptive femininity,

choosing never to marry or have children and engaging in

behavior that was considered unfit for a southern

gentlewoman such as foul language and smoking a pipe.

(Shields, 75)

W. E. B. Du Bois, being a personal family friend of the

Hansberry’s, is said to have been a mentor to Lorraine who

was particularly affected by his work The Souls of Black Folk.

Speaking specifically regarding those who are oppressed, Du

Bois discussed a state of mind which he termed merged

consciousness. This state of mind is achieved when a person

is able to successfully blend his or her own ideology with

that of another culture without losing either. (Carter 2,

17) I would argue that individuals are constantly

reconciling identity on both a conscious and a subconscious

level and that there is in fact a merged consciousness and

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merged subconsiousness that occurs whenever elements of

identity intersect, whether it is race and class, class and

gender, gender and religion or all of the above. This

blending of identity occurs also when there is an

intersection of competing notions of race, class, gender,

etc. In examining the treatment of gender in these two

texts, it is interesting to unite this concept with that of

performativity.

In her essay, “Imitation and Gender Insubordination,”

Judith Butler argues that:

“gender is not a performance that a prior subject

elects to do, but gender is performative in the

sense that it constitutes as an effect the very

subject it appears to express. It is a compulsory

performance in the sense that acting out of line

with heterosexual norms brings with it ostracism,

punishment, violence, not to mention the

transgressive pleasures produced by those very

prohibitions.” (Butler, CITATION)

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Elsewhere, Butler argues that gender performativity is

hidden stating that, “That gender reality is created through

sustained social performances means that the very notions of

an essential sex, a true or abiding masculinity or

femininity, are also constituted as part of the strategy by

which the performative act of gender is concealed.” (Butler,

CITATION)

This theory of merged consciousness and subconsiousness

can be applied to performativity in that performativity,

while it involves conscious acts, is most often concealed

even from the self. As an umbrella theory, performativity

works to regulate gender within the heteronormative binary

system, resulting in performative genders that fall within

the spectrum created by the binary system of masculinity and

femininity. However, as we more closely examine gender

within smaller groups and on the individual level it

intersects with other aspects of identity and competing

notions of gender. This creates very specific and very

fragmented notions of gender, providing not a gender

spectrum, but a mosaic in which different characters’ gender

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are affected differently by their multiple performative acts

of identity. With Raisin calling masculinity into question

and Mockingbird calling femininity into question, the

treatment of gender within the texts provides support for

this theory of a merged and performative gender mosaic.

Masculinity in Hansberry

Overall, the presentation of gender within Raisin,

seems to contest traditional American notions of the binary

gender systems. Integral to the plot is the fact that the

patriarch of the family is dead and, instead of passing on

authority to his son, the person who steps into the role of

family leader is his wife. Of course, the audience never

sees Big Walter at all, so there is no way of being sure

that he actually assumed the implied role of head of the

family. Mama speaks as if she and Big Walter decided how to

raise their children by a mutual concession, but she is the

only character to speak of him so it is possible that she

impresses the illusion of family leadership upon his memory.

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Additionally, in the first scene of the play, Mama

recalls Big Walter experiencing the disappointment of life

that his son is now grappling with:

“RUTH: Yes, life can be a barrel of

disappointments, sometimes.

MAMA: Honey, Big Walter would come in here some

nights back then and slump down on that couch

there and just look at the rug, and look at me and

look at the rug and then back at me – and I’d know

he was down then…really down. (Hansberry, 45)”

This scene, along with the fact that the family seems to

secede so easily to Mama’s authority, seems to imply that,

against the traditional concept of femininity, Mama has

always been the head of this family.

This however, does not prevent Mama from invoking his

memory to create her version of an ideal masculine identity

that seems to reign over the play. Aside from disappointed,

Mama describes Big Walter as, “hard-headed, mean, kind of

wild with women.” What reigns supreme in her masculine

ideal is that he loved his children and was somewhat

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consoled by the hope that his disappointment in life might

eventually translate to the success of his dreams through

his children. (Hansberry, 45-46)

In her 1995 essay titled “In My Mother’s House: Black

Feminist Aesthetics, Television, and A Raisin in the Sun,” Sherry

Parks discusses how notions of femininity and masculinity

may operate differently in the African American household:

“Despite all the current discussion of the crisis in the

black family, black people, particularly working-class black

people, have long considered a female-headed household to be

a family.” She goes on to cite an anthropological study

which posits the “female-centered household as the

Afrocentrically traditional form.” (Parks, 21) This

argument seems to underscore the concept that, when gender

intersects with the identity aspects of race and class, the

performative acts of gender are affected and the result is a

unique expression of gender. Furthermore, the notion of

children as the hope for a less disappointing future is a

concept associated with women. In a speech on “The Origins

of Character,” Hansberry herself described Lena as “The

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Black matriarch incarnate: The bulwark of the Negro family

since slavery; the embodiment of the Negro will to

transcendence. It is she who, in the mind of the Black poet,

scrubs the floors of a nation in order to create Black

diplomats and university professors.” (Carter, 52) Both her

representation of her late husband and her treatment of her

son show how, for Mama, women are the authors of

masculinity.

The inference is often made that Walter is the play’s

central character and that it is his dream which is referred

to in the Langston Hughes epigraph. While Walter does have

dreams, they are secondary to Mama’s dreams as is his

character to hers. Ultimately, his version of masculinity

succeeds to that of his mother, but for almost the entire

play, we see an internal struggle within Walter as his

performative gender acts repeatedly fail.

In the opening scene of the play, we see Walter’s

attempts to put forth a version of masculinity in keeping

with that of the dominant culture. He is inconsiderate of

his son’s sleeping arrangement, carousing with his friends

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in Travis’s living room bedroom until well past his bedtime.

(Hansberry, 27) While this may not represent an ideal

notion of traditional masculinity, it is in keeping with the

notion childcare being ‘women’s work’ while men exist

seemingly unaware of how to care for their offspring.

Concurringly, he accuses his wife of not understanding the

world and being small minded, relegating her to the role of

the home and elevating his own understanding of the world

beyond. (Hansberry, 33, 35) Lastly, he further relegates

women to the confines of traditional gender roles when he

bickers with his sister over her ambitions to become a

doctor:

“WALTER: Who the hell told you you had to be a

doctor? If you so crazy ‘bout messing ‘round with

sick people – then go be a nurse like other women

– or just get married and be quiet… (Hansberry,

38)”

These revelations of Walter’s character show that his idea

of masculinity is somewhat more traditional than mama’s idea

femininity.

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Additionally, Walter’s ideal masculinity is very

closely intertwined with American capitalism as evidenced by

his dreams of investing in just about anything to achieve

the status of executive. Throughout the play, Walter argues

his case for using his father’s insurance policy death

benefit for investing in a liquor store, but early on we

find out that he was once interested in investing in the dry

cleaning business. (Hansberry, 32) Later, Walter describes

the details of his dream to Travis. He talks about a

business transaction that will change their lives and how in

just seven years, he’ll be an executive, working in an

office and attending conferences. (Hansberry, 108-109) What

is most interesting about this scene is that it very clearly

shows that, while Walter has dreams, he has no plans. He

doesn’t even seem to know exactly what it is that

“executives” do all day. He just knows that they invest

money and then earn a lot of it. One wonders how he made

the leap from liquor store owner to corporate executive.

Walter’s dream feels very much like the façade of 1950’s

sitcoms where Dad goes off to work to “bring home the

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bacon,” but no one really knows exactly where that is or

what he does there. Mama further underscores this concept

earlier in the play when she rebuffs Ruth’s support of

Walter’s investment by saying, “We ain’t no business people,

Ruth. We just plain working folks.” (Hansberry, 42) This

shows how Walter is trying to emulate a form of masculinity

that is at odds with other aspects of his identity and

ultimately with the reality of his life.

We see a more accurate performance of Walter’s ideal

masculinity in Beneatha’s suitor, George Murchison. With

several prior allusions to the Murchison’s financial

success, Walter speaks of George’s father and his capitalist

business sense which, as is already evident, Walter seeks to

emulate without really understanding. The college attending

George, who is mocked by Walter for his bookish pretension

(Hansberry, 84-85), certainly seeks to dominate Beneatha

within their relationship, further inscribing traditional

gender roles. Early in act two, George refuses to validate

Beneatha’s identity and her embracing of her West African

Heritage, calling it eccentric. (Hansberry, 80) Later,

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George objectifies her and ignores her need for stimulating

conversation, admitting that he really only desires her

physically:

“BENEATHA: Yes – and I love to talk.

GEORGE: I know it and I don’t mind it sometimes…I

want you to cut it out, see – The moody stuff, I

mean. I don’t like it. You’re a nice-looking

girl…all over. That’s all you need honey, forget

the atmosphere. Guys aren’t going to go for the

atmosphere – they’re going to go for what they

see. (Hansberry, 96)”

With a father who successfully demonstrates this dominant

type of masculinity in the business world, George finds it

much easier to enact himself. In Walter’s character, the

performative acts of gender are much different because his

attempts to perform this dominating masculinity are in

contention with other factors of his identity such as his

class. Even though both the Murchison and the Lee men are

African American, their performative masculinity operates

differently, contributing to a gender mosaic.

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Another unique example of masculinity within the work

is that of Beneatha’s other suitor, Joseph Asagai. Asagai’s

performance of masculinity is sophisticated and gentle,

while remaining impassioned regarding his heritage. Being a

world traveler, he places quite a lot of value on experience

which translates into his treatment of Beneatha, acting as

if she is in need of his schooling. When he brings her the

gift of the traditional African robes he says, “I shall have

to teach you how to drape it properly” and then he goes on

to manipulatively coax her into cutting her hair by first

calling it mutilated and then stating that he is merely

teasing her. (Hansberry, 61-62, 65)

As their dialogue unfolds, Asagai further reveals his

feelings on womanhood when Beneatha claims that multiplexed

emotions can and should exist between a man and a woman:

“ASAGAI: No. Between a man and a woman there need

be only one kind of feeling. I have that for you…

Now even…right this moment…

BENEATHA: I know – and by itself – it won’t do. I

can find that anywhere.

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ASAGAI: For a woman it should be enough.”

Asagai’s claim that desire should be all a woman needs to

feel from a man demonstrates that he also has traditional

notions of the relationship between femininity and

masculinity. However, because Asagai’s interpretations of

gender intersect with other aspects of his identity, his

masculinity, although patronizing, allows him to be more

patient and kind than George who loses interest or Walter

who is simply hostile.

Considering Walter’s more traditional notions of

manhood which are validated outside of the home, it is

ironic that he continually acknowledges that he needs

permission from his wife and mother to actually attain it.

In the very first scene of the play, he says to Ruth, “A man

needs for a woman to back him up…” (Hansberry, 32) and later

in the conversation he faults black women with the failures

of black men, implying that they hold the key to masculine

success:

“WALTER: That is just what is wrong with the

colored woman in this world…Don’t understand about

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building their men up and making ‘em feel like

they somebody. Like they can do something.

RUTH: There are colored men who do things.

WALTER: No thanks to the colored woman.”

(Hansberry, 34)

In discussing gender consciousness within the play,

Sherry Parks points out that, in Walter’s life, it is Mama

who dictates what it means to be a man:

“Although Walter has his own ideas, it is Mama who

is ultimately in a position powerful enough to

define Younger manhood; according to her, a good

man is a man who loves his children and makes them

central to his own life. Mama’s definition of a

good man is much like her definition of a good

woman: an individual who holds responsibility and

concern for the group. It is a merged position.”

(Parks, 25)

Here, Parks highlights the main source of tension within the

text. Walter feels that his dream will help him achieve his

masculinity, but it begins and ends with Mama’s money,

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without which his dream will never be a reality. On

multiple occasions, it is as if Mama shames Walter into her

idea of manhood. Mama’s reaction to one of Walter’s

outbursts is “I don’t ‘low no yellin’ in this house, Walter

Lee, and you know it.” She goes on to completely dismiss

his pleas to convince her to invest in the liquor store. As

the scene escalates, Walter attempts to vacate the

apartment, but Mama insists that he stays:

“MAMA: Walter Lee – Sit down.

WALTER: I’m a grown man, Mama.

MAMA: Ain’t nobody said you wasn’t grown. But you

still in my house and in my presence. And as long

as you are – you’ll talk to your wife civil. Now

sit down.” (Hansberry 70-71)

Mama wins: Walter stays and they talk. As their

conversation unfolds, Mama reveals to Walter that Ruth is

pregnant and considering terminating the pregnancy. After

making Walter aware of the situation, Mama endeavors to

guilt him into her idea of manhood, threatening him with the

memory of his father and repeating multiple times, “I’m

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waiting.” (Hansberry, 75) Ultimately, Mama must abdicate

her role in order for Walter’s manhood to step in.

Mama finally relinquishes authority, but she still

holds on to some of the power, making sure to provide for

her dream first and then trusting Walter with the remainder

of the funds. When Walter’s masculinity fails and he is

fleeced by Willy, Mama steps in, once again assuming her

role as head of the family. Walter’s attempt to hold on to

his dominating masculinity is to demean every other part of

his identity: to sell out his race, his rights, and his

family for a piece, any piece, of the pie. In the end, Mama

challenges him again by insisting that, if he humiliates the

family, he do it in front of his young son and subtly

reminding him that she is still in charge:

“MAMA: No. Travis, you stay right here. And you

make him understand what you doing, Walter Lee.

You teach him good. Like Willy Harris taught you.

You show where our five generations done come to.

Go ahead, son. Go ahead.” (Hansberry, 147)

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When Mama’s prescribed masculinity wins out, she finally

calls Walter a man, but in saying so, makes it quite clear

that she remains the ultimate authority: only she determines

manhood. Of course, the façade of authority remains with

Walter, who feels he has now earned his right to bargain for

his sister’s future. However, even for Beneatha, Mama’s

authority remains intact and it is she who her daughter

seeks out on the issue of marriage. (Hansberry, 150-151)

Masculinity in Lee

If we allow for a reading of A Raisin in the Sun that

questions the success of traditional masculinity, it cannot

be ignored that, in its defense of masculinity, To Kill a

Mockingbird seems to be questioning the success of

traditional femininity. The novel is replete with female

characters whose femininity either fails completely or falls

short of achieving a sufficient success. Perhaps this is

only further dichotomized by the bulwark of manhood that is

Atticus Finch.

From the very beginning, Atticus serves as the moral

compass of the novel: he is never wrong and on the rare

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occasion that he isn’t completely right, it is always with

the best intentions. His masculinity is very much defined

by the other aspects of his identity such as respect for

others, intellect and fairness all of which are in some way

related to his education and experience in the field of law.

Unlike the varieties of masculinity in Raisin, Atticus

hesitates to define his manhood by confining others to any

type of traditional role. As a parent, he challenges the

social barriers of the South, failing to take issue with his

children’s attendance at Calpurnia’s African American Church

(Lee, 146-147), their sitting in the Negro section of the

courthouse (Lee, 219) or the idea of them making friends

with children from lower class groups (Lee, 237).

Furthermore, he refuses to pass judgment on even the vilest

of characters, telling his daughter that hatred is

unacceptable, even of Hitler. (Lee, 259) While he disagrees

with Mrs. Dubose’s bigotry, he looks for other ways to

respect her and teaches his children to do the same. (Lee,

114)

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Ultimately, it is Atticus’s deep belief in democracy

and the rights of his fellow man that allow him to enact a

masculinity that is so accepting of others. As a small town

lawyer, Atticus has had regular contact with the variety of

people within the community and his liberal and democratic

view of society is that the social barriers which have been

constructed do not justify the privileging of one person’s

rights over that of another.

This is most keenly demonstrated in Atticus’s defense

of Tom Robinson, which shows that Atticus’s performance of

masculinity requires him to do what is right even at a high

price. Clearly innocent from the start, Atticus knows that

Tom’s charge of raping a white women will be the ruin of him

and his family and only because people refuse to tear down

society’s walls and see that a black man can be the victim

of a white family. Still, he insists on fighting for Tom’s

acquittal, knowing full well that he and his children will

be tormented for it. While he admits he didn’t choose to

defend Tom, he also claims that he has a moral obligation as

a lawyer and a father to stand up for what he believes is

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right. When Scout asks Atticus why he’s defending Tom, he

actually fails to tell her that he was appointed to the

position:

“‘For a number of reasons,’ said Atticus. ‘The

main one is, if I didn’t, I couldn’t hold up my

head in town, I couldn’t represent this county in

the legislature, I couldn’t even tell you or Jem

not to do something again.’” (Lee, 83)

Later, he tells his brother Jack that he couldn’t face his

children if he failed to defend Tom properly, clearly

showing that for Atticus, manhood is greatly influenced by

his identity as a lawyer.

Another defining characteristic of Atticus’s

masculinity is his thirst for knowledge. Scout notes her

childhood observation of her father’s activities: “He did

not do the things our schoolmates’ fathers did: he never

went hunting, he did not play poker or fish or drink or

smoke. He sat in the living room and read.” (Lee, 98)

Atticus’s penchant for reading is actually well known in the

community and later in the novel Scout overhears a man imply

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that he gives merit to Atticus’s ideas because he is a

“mighty deep reader.” (Lee, 174)

This love of reading affects his identity as a father

as well and he encourages it in his children, recommending

reading material for Jem and reading to Scout on a regular

basis. He even refuses to cease their reading sessions when

Scout’s teacher scolds her for having learned to read

already, choosing instead to advise her that she refrain

from sharing their reading activities at school. Here

Atticus’s intellect and wisdom intersect with his

masculinity and fatherhood as he shows Scout that, while

being an early reader is no crime, to attempt to convince

the teacher otherwise would be a futile and pointless

argument which would likely result in Scout’s further

distaste for formal education.

Atticus’s respect for the written word permeates his

entire character to the point that, even in a dangerous

situation, the man only arms himself with a newspaper. On

the night before Tom’s trial, the children sneak out to find

Atticus guarding the jailhouse with only a newspaper in

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hand. While he is brave and determined, Atticus defines his

masculinity with a power that he equates with knowledge.

The power of his knowledge is strong enough that he feels no

need to arm himself with a weapon even when he knows an

angry mob is on its way. (Lee, 161)

Furthermore, Atticus hesitates to take a weapon even

against a rabid dog which is threatening the neighborhood.

When he finally relents, it is revealed that “Atticus Finch

was the deadest shot in Maycomb County in his time” (Lee,

106) although he remains extremely modest of his skill. Lee

uses the character of a kind neighbor to further reveal this

characteristic of Atticus to the children.

“‘If your father’s anything, he’s civilized in his

heart. Marksmanship’s a gift of God, a talent –

oh, you have to practice to make it perfect, but

shootin’s different from playing the piano or the

like. I think maybe he put his gun down when he

realized that God had given him an unfair

advantage over most living things. I guess he

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decided he wouldn’t shoot til he had to, and he

had to today.’” (Lee, 107)

His civilized nature is a key element in the masculinity

that Atticus projects. While traditional notions of manhood

encompass acts that flex the masculine identity such as

hunting, fighting or other acts of domination, Atticus

defines masculinity as the refusal to dominate.

Atticus’s civilizing power goes far beyond his

treatment of wildlife. In her book, To Kill a Mockingbird:

Threatening Boundaries, Claudia Durst Johnson calls Atticus a

peacemaker and argues that the depiction of his character is

often Christ-like. (Johnson, 99-100) While Johnson provides

valid support for her point, the argument that Atticus is a

model of Christ seems strong when we consider that the real

scapegoat in the novel is Tom Robinson. However, Atticus’s

civilized nature does permeate and define his character, his

manhood and his role as a father.

The dominant lesson Atticus aims to teach his children

is to consider things from the perspective of others. Early

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in the novel he imparts some valuable advice to his

daughter:

“‘First of all,” he said, “if you can learn a

simple trick, Scout, you’ll get along a lot better

with all kinds of folks. You never really

understand a person until you consider things from

his point of view…until you climb into his skin

and walk around in it.” (Lee, 36)

The saying usually goes ‘walk a mile in someone’s

shoes,’ but, of course, shoes come of and skin does not.

Atticus’s seemingly subtle change shows just how far he is

willing to go to be understanding and considerate of his

fellow man and he does, in fact, live by this code himself

and applies it frequently throughout the novel. In spite of

Mrs. Dubose’s bigotry and the fact that she spoke harshly

about him to his children, Atticus admires how she bravely

fought her addiction to morphine. (Lee, 120) He also

repeatedly shows respect for the reclusive nature of their

neighbor Arthur Radley and graciousness towards their young

lunch guest Walter Cunningham making him feel respected an

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at ease with familiar conversation topics. However, the

most compelling display of Atticus’s empathy is regarding

Bob Ewell.

Often seen as the antithesis of Atticus, Bob’s fury

over Atticus’s defense of Tom Robinson refused to be quelled

and public encounter between the two men resulted in Bob’s

spitting in Atticus’s face and threatening revenge.

Atticus’s response: “I wish Bob Ewell wouldn’t chew

tobacco.” However, he goes on to display a deep empathy for

the man:

“Jem, see if you can stand in Bob Ewell’s shoes a

minute. I destroyed his last shred of credibility

at that trial, if he had any to begin with. The

man had to have some kind of comeback, his kind

always does. So if spitting in my face and

threatening me saved Mayella Ewell one extra

beating, that’s something I’ll gladly take.” (Lee,

231)

As a lawyer and legislator, it is Atticus’s belief in

the American system of democracy and justice that empowers

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his masculinity to be empathetic, brave, moral and wise.

Although he can’t help but express his disappointment in the

failings of the justice system as demonstrated in the Tom

Robinson trial, Atticus maintains hope for the future while

acknowledging that the road to change will be a long and

difficult. This is shown most clearly in his conversation

with Jem and Scout regarding the court process. As Jem

diligently tries to work through the justice issues

illuminated by the case, he arrives at the conclusion that,

because the jury is clearly tainted by their ideology,

juries are the problem. Atticus responds:

“You’re rather hard on us, son. I think there

might be a better way. Change the law…You’d be

surprised how hard that’d be. I won’t live to see

the law changed, and if you live to see it you’ll

be an old man.” (Lee, 232-233)

While it must be acknowledged that there is a common

thread of traditional masculinity running through the male

characters in both A Raisin in the Sun and To Kill a Mockingbird, it

must also be acknowledged that the performative acts of each

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character are distinctly unique as a result of their merged

consciousness between aspects of masculine identity:

Atticus performs an empathetic masculinity that is both

strong and brave, Walter demonstrates a masculinity fighting

for authority, George shows a privileged manhood that is

bored and impatient and Asagai enacts a superior masculine

intellect. Ultimately, it is impossible to tease apart

gender identity and other identities, creating a wide

variety of the masculine performance in both works and

begging the question, does gender really even exist?

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Works Cited

Butler, Judith. “Imitation and Gender Insubordination.” Literary Theory: An Anthology. Eds. Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 1998.

---. “Performative Acts of Gender Constitution.” Literary Theory: An Anthology. Eds. Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004.

Carter, Steven R. Hansberry’s Drama: Commitment amid Complexity. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1991.

---. “Commitment amid Complexity: Lorraine Hansberry’s Life in Action.” 1980. Feminism in Literature: A Gale Critical Companion. Vol. 6. Detroit: Gale, 2006.

Cheney, Anne. Lorraine Hansberry. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1994.

Du Bois, W. E. B. The Souls of Black Folk. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.

Hansberry, Lorraine. A Raisin in the Sun. New York: Vintage Books, 1994.

Johnson, Claudia Durst. To Kill a Mockingbird: Threatening Boundaries. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1994.

Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1960

Parks, Sherry. “In My Mother’s House: Black Feminist Aesthetics, Television and A Raisin in the Sun.” 1995. Feminism in Literature: A Gale Critical Companion. Vol.6. Detroit: Gale, 2006.

36

Shields, Charles J. Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee. New York: Henry Hold and Company, 2006.

37

Works Consulted

Kodat, Catherine Gunther. “Confusion in a Dream Deferred: Context and Culture in Teaching A Raisin in the Sun.” Studies in the Literary Imagination. 31.1 (Spring 1998): 149-164.

Leeson, Richard M. Lorraine Hansberr: A Research and Production Sourcebook. Westport, Connecticut: GreenwoodPress, 1997.

Lester, Neal A. “Seasoned with Quiet Strength: Black Womanhood in Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun (1959).” Women In Literature: Reading through the Lens of Gender. Eds. Jerilyn Fisher and Ellen S. Sibler. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 2003.

Petry, Alice Hall. Introduction. On Harper Lee. Ed. Alice Hall Petry. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2007. xv-xxxix.

Ware, Michael S. “ ‘Just a Lady’: Gender and Power in HarperLee’s To Kill a Mockingbird (1961).” Women In Literature: Reading through the Lens of Gender. Eds. Jerilyn Fisherand Ellen S. Sibler. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 2003.

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Victoria LauritaProspectusENG 730April 28, 2010

Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird and Lorraine Hansberry’s A

Raisin in the Sun are not works that are commonly paired

together. While both are most often examined through the

lens of race, they each address issues of class and gender

as well. Both having been authored by women in mid-

twentieth century America, it is interesting to consider how

these texts depict very unique representations of gender.

W. E. B. Du Bois, being a personal family friend of the

Hansberry’s, is said to have been a mentor to Lorraine who

was particularly affected by his book The Souls of Black Folk.

Drawing from Du Bois’s theory of merged consciousness and

Judith Butler’s concept of gender performativity, this

project will examine the ways in which masculinity operates

in these two texts. This analysis will demonstrate that

performative acts of gender intersect with the

performativity of other aspects of identity, revealing not a

gender spectrum existing between the binary system of

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masculinity and femininity, but rather a gender mosaic in

which gender manifests differently in every character.

Works Cited

Butler, Judith. “Imitation and Gender Insubordination.” Literary Theory: An Anthology. Eds. Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 1998.

---. “Performative Acts of Gender Constitution.” Literary Theory: An Anthology. Eds. Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004.

Carter, Steven R. Hansberry’s Drama: Commitment amid Complexity. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1991.

---. “Commitment amid Complexity: Lorraine Hansberry’s Life in Action.” 1980. Feminism in Literature: A Gale Critical Companion. Vol. 6. Detroit: Gale, 2006.

Cheney, Anne. Lorraine Hansberry. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1994.

Du Bois, W. E. B. The Souls of Black Folk. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.

Hansberry, Lorraine. A Raisin in the Sun. New York: Vintage Books, 1994.

Johnson, Claudia Durst. To Kill a Mockingbird: Threatening Boundaries. New York: Twayne Publishers, 1994.

Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1960

Parks, Sherry. “In My Mother’s House: Black Feminist Aesthetics, Television and A Raisin in the Sun.” 1995.

40

Feminism in Literature: A Gale Critical Companion. Vol.6. Detroit: Gale, 2006.

Shields, Charles J. Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee. New York: Henry Hold and Company, 2006.

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