Suchergebnisse

Intro -- Half Title -- Title Page -- Copyright Page -- Dedication -- CONTENTS -- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS -- Introduction: Gender and Genocide Studies -- Why Gender Analysis Matters -- Genocide and the Soviet Union -- Contributions to the Volume -- Part I: Gender and Genocide: Part I -- Chapter 1: Imperialism, Modern Race Thinking, Gender, and Genocide -- Chapter 2: Gender and the Holocaust: Male and Female Experiences of Auschwitz -- Chapter 3: Masculinities and Vulnerabilities in the Rwandan and Congolese Genocides -- Part II: Sexual Violence and Mass Rape: Part II -- Chapter 4: Exposed Bodies: A Conceptual Approach to Sexual Violence during the Armenian Genocide -- Chapter 5: An Exceptional Genocide?: Sexual Violence in the Holocaust -- Chapter 6: Constructions of Identity and Sexual Violence in Wartime: The Case of Bosnia and Herzegovina -- Chapter 7: Rape as a Weapon of Genocide: Gender, Patriarchy, and Sexual Violence in Rwanda -- Part III: Gender and Complicity : Part III -- Chapter 8: Ordinary Masculinity: Gender Analysis and Holocaust Scholarship -- Chapter 9: Women as Perpetrators: Agency and Authority in Genocidal Rwanda -- Part IV: Gendered Genocidal Trauma and Its Aftermaths : Part IV -- Chapter 10: The Biopolitics of "Rescue": Women and the Politics of Inclusion after the Armenian Genocide 1 -- Chapter 11: Wartime Rape and Its Shunned Victims -- Part V: Gender, Memory, and Narratives about the Past: Part V -- Chapter 12: Memory, Gender, and the Intergenerational Transmission of Trauma among Daughters and Granddaughters of Holocaust Survivors -- Chapter 13: Gendered Silences, Gendered Memories: New Memory Work on Islamized Armenians in Turkey -- Part VI: International Law and Genocide Studies Prevention: Part VI.

This article introduces the translated pamphlet For the Father of a Newborn by contextualizing it in Soviet medical efforts to deploy men as allies in safeguarding reproduction and bolstering procreation in the 1960s and 1970s. It examines the pamphlet as an illustration of how doctors and other health personnel tried to educate men to protect their wives' pregnancy and the health of their wives and newborns in the postpartum period, and it considers the implications of these initiatives for women's bodies, gender norms, sexual practices, models of masculinity, and the socialist goal of promoting women's equality.

Vladimir Putin's macho image and his deployment of a masculinized Russian nationalism have fascinated Russians and non-Russians alike, generating considerable public and scholarly analysis. This article argues that the appeal of Putin as a powerful and hypermasculine leader over the last twenty years is best understood not just in the larger geopolitical context of Russia's national and economic decline in the 1990s but also in terms of Soviet and post-Soviet discourses of failed manhood. In particular, this work focuses on the widespread critique of men as fathers in the 1950s and 1960s and the accompanying campaign to create a new model of Soviet fatherhood, aiming to make men into "family men" and better fathers. The construction of the new ideal father—actively engaged in household tasks and child-rearing—challenged the Soviet gender order and contributed to the development of a domestic and family-oriented model of Communist manhood. Although it is primarily an investigation of the problematization of Soviet fathers and the reconfiguration of Soviet fatherhood in the 1950s and 1960s, this article also suggests that perceptions of failed fatherhood and Communist manhood in the post-Stalin and late Soviet eras, combined with post-Soviet anxieties about masculinity in the new political and economic order of Russia in the 1990s, provide a window into the appeal not only of Putin and his strongman persona but also of the broader narratives of masculinized nationalism in contemporary Russia.

In the 1930s, the Stalinist regime promoted a campaign to establish "Soviet trade," a non-capitalist system of "socialist" retailing. Policymakers also legitimized ordinary people's desires for greater material comfort and increased consumption, and encouraged them to act as new Soviet consumers by engaging in new consumer behavior and official efforts to improve retail trade. This essay examines how the government's mobilization of consumers helped to produce a new identity, the Soviet "citizen-consumer," whose consumer practices facilitated the integration of consumers into the Soviet polity and the building of socialism. It also considers how this mobilization of Soviet consumers was similar to and different from the government mobilization of consumers in other countries during the interwar era. Whether in the Soviet Union, the United States, China, or Germany, the recognition of consumers as central actors in economic and political affairs had particular implications for women. The material culture of different societies, however, in conjunction with differing political and economic contexts, shaped the "rights" and "responsibilities" of these women "citizen-consumers."

When it comes to understanding genocide, gender matters. This has not always been evident, and even today there are critics and skeptics. Indeed, when feminist scholars in Holocaust studies first began examining women's experiences and gender questions, their scholarship was ignored or met with hostility by many academics and others, including some survivors. Opponents expressed various concerns, including the idea that gender research and analysis would "trivialize" or "politicize" the Holocaust, de-emphasize the centrality of anti-Semitism and racism to Nazi persecution,1 and promote "comparative victimhood or creat[e] unequal victims."2 Studying the gendered dimensions of genocide, however, does not trivialize the enormity of the crime. Nor does it minimize the importance of real and imagined ideas about ethnic, national, racial, and religious difference in explaining the victimization, destruction, and mass killing of certain groups. The fear that gender analysis will lead to a hierarchy of victims is also misplaced. Gender scholarship does not argue that women had it better or worse than men; rather, it acknowledges differences in women's and men's experiences and examines how the unfolding of genocide has involved "events that specifically affect men as men and women as women."3 More generally, the purpose of this scholarship is to use gender as a lens for better comprehending the seemingly incomprehensible crime of genocide. As this volume makes clear, an examination of gender and genocide allows us to hear the voices and stories of women that are often overlooked and to read men's voices and stories in a more nuanced way. By considering both women and men as gendered subjects, this research sheds light on how discourses of femininity and masculinity, gender norms, and understandings of female and male identities contribute to victims' experiences and responses. Such analysis highlights, for example, how Jewish men became demoralized in Nazi Germany, not merely because of the marginalization and increasingly alarming situation of Jews, but also because they could not fulfill their traditional male gender roles as providers for and protectors of their families. Moreover, this feeling of manly "failure" was then compounded by the utter inability of Jewish husbands, fathers, and brothers in concentration/death camps to protect their loved ones.4

This article examines Soviet reproductive politics after the Communist regime legalized abortion in 1955. The regime's new abortion policy did not result in an end to the condemnation of abortion in official discourse. The government instead launched an extensive campaign against abortion. Why did authorities bother legalizing the procedure if they still disapproved of it so strongly? Using archival sources, public health materials, and medical as well as popular journals to investigate the antiabortion campaign, this article argues that the Soviet government sought to regulate gender and sexuality through medical intervention and health "education" rather than prohibition and force in the post-Stalin era. It also explores how the antiabortion public health campaign produced "knowledge" not only about the procedure and its effects, but also about gender and sexuality, subjecting both women and men to new pressures and regulatory norms.

During the Cold War era, many westerners considered the Soviet Union a repressive threatening entity, one that possessed nuclear weapons, issued military threats, enacted violence, repressed dissidents, and fostered alcoholism. Some took a more measured view; after all, this was a country that produced Sputnik as well as outstanding Soviet writers, musicians, and scientists. Moreover, the communist system provided basic (even if problematic) education, healthcare, and housing for its populace. The Soviet Union seemed marked by contradictions.

This article examines Soviet reproductive politics after the Communist regime legalized abortion in 1955. The regime's new abortion policy did not result in an end to the condemnation of abortion in official discourse. The government instead launched an extensive campaign against abortion. Why did authorities bother legalizing the procedure if they still disapproved of it so strongly? Using archival sources, public health materials, and medical as well as popular journals to investigate the antiabortion campaign, this article argues that the Soviet government sought to regulate gender and sexuality through medical intervention and health "education" rather than prohibition and force in the post-Stalin era. It also explores how the antiabortion public health campaign produced "knowledge" not only about the procedure and its effects, but also about gender and sexuality, subjecting both women and men to new pressures and regulatory norms.

In 1955 the Soviet government lifted its ban on abortion (which had been in place since 1936 after an earlier period of legalization). Official pronatalism informed this policy shift: Communist authorities and medical experts hoped to fortify the nation's reproductive capacity because they believed that illegal underground abortion adversely affected women's procreative health to a greater extent than legal medicalized abortion. Unlike the 1920 decree that had first decriminalized the procedure, the 1955 decree recognized a woman's right to control her reproduction. But it also emphasized that preventing abortion — illegal and legal — remained a key government objective.