“Nowhere is the sadistic potential of a language built on agency so visible as in torture. While torture contains language, specific human words and sounds, it is itself a language, an objectification, an acting out.”
-Elaine Scarry
Leslie Feinberg's Stone Butch Blues tests the ability to narrativize torture. Jess Goldberg does not entirely understand herself; she endures insults about her gender and sexuality from other kids in school every day. Before she can discern her gender identity, at the age of sixteen, a gang of football players violently rape her. Even after promising herself that she will never be raped again, Jess undergoes this torture a second time with police officers. Feinberg describes both obstructions of dignity merely in words. The second time, however, Feinberg does not explain moment by moment what is happening; Jess’ mind drifts to a happier place while the police officers have her handcuffed and subject her to their hateful actions. Juxtaposing the two situations with the same crime makes me wonder: does one way express trauma better than the other? The answer to this question lies in our recognition of her pain. We need to know exactly what happened and learn to actively read traumatic stories. The structure of this novel serves as a realistic, disturbing, and first-hand account, not only of the humiliation of butch rape, but also the extent to which we can understand Jess’ trauma through narrative.
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