Fionnuala Neville, Department of English and Communication Studies, University of New England, Armidale
This article investigates whether the contemporary open-plan kitchen of its narrator may be considered a feminine space, and uses material from several disciplines to ascertain this. Its personal style is deliberately chosen to show how the narrator's story interacts with some of the theoretical considerations discussed.
The format of this article is a fictional, guided tour of house layouts of England and Australia in modern times. The influence of masculine gender characteristics in shaping traditional domestic interiors is discussed, but the correspondence between feminine characteristics and modern interiors is overridden when gendered social relationships are considered. The tour ends back in the narrator's kitchen, which she decides, is definitely a masculine space. Recent writing on the home, including possible consequences of discarding the traditional kitchen table, is featured as part of the narrator's final musings. The article concludes with some recommendations for the creation of feminine domestic spaces.
Two children are sitting outside their cubby house one sunny day. Jake says to his elder sister, 'Let's play houses.'Anna replies, 'I'll be the daddy and sit here reading my newspaper. You be the mummy. You go inside to the kitchen and cook the meal.'1
Yesterday, while I cooked the evening meal in my open-plan kitchen at home, I was able to chat to my partner while he set the table in the dining section, watch the news on television in the living area, and supervise my dog while she wolfed down her dinner on the patio outside.
'Things have changed', I said to myself, 'from the times when we women and our kitchen work were hidden out of sight at the back of the house. Now I feel that my activity forms an integral part of the social life of the household. However, does my new-found sense of integration make my home a truly feminine space?'
I am sharing my domestic ruminations with you today in order to pursue this very question. I maintain that house design in the English-speaking world in past centuries has expressed and nurtured only the gender characteristics of men. We women have inhabited many of the houses and rooms which men have designed, built and bought. However, because of our lack of power and wealth in society, seldom have we divided and shaped our domestic spaces in a manner expressive of our gender characteristics. In this, I agree with Louise C. Johnson (1990: 20), who argues that not only is domestic space gendered, but also patriarchal, since it is structured to privilege men's needs over women's.
However, I am not claiming that there is a simple, direct or causal relationship between interior layouts and gender, but I do maintain that a discernible correspondence can be traced between them. Furthermore, in keeping with my theme of deconstructing spatial divisions, my writing style in this piece deliberately collapses the divisions between theoretical and creative/fictional styles in an attempt to create a more comfortable and accommodating approach to writing about domestic space.
This paper was first written from my research findings on space as a talk for radio.2 It was composed in response to a talk in March 1996 by Lex Blakey on Ockham's Razor, presented by Robyn Williams, on ABC Radio National. Dr Blakey deplored the 'cavernous' open-plan design popular in family homes today, and he pleaded for what he called the 'logical rational alternative' of motel-style, self-contained units for each mature family member. These, he implied, would facilitate specifically the study of maths and sciences! In response to the masculine bias implicit in these proposals, I shall conclude this paper by suggesting some steps necessary before we begin to conceive and design feminine interiors.
So let's stay in and play houses together, shall we? I want to take you on an imaginative guided tour of some typical domestic interiors in order to show you how their layouts have developed in modern times. My trip will end back in my own home where I shall reconsider my kitchen politics.
I begin my excursion into the great indoors by pulling back the mists of late medieval England. Now, as the architect Robert Furneaux Jordan (1959: 9) has outlined, you can visualize the first architects, who were men of course, busy at work redesigning the manor house. The uniform space of the great medieval hall was split into a number of smaller rooms, with food preparation relegated to one end of the house and the bedrooms located at the opposite end.
About the end of the 16th century, under the influence of the Renaissance classical style from Italy, these separate rooms were ordered in a symmetrical fashion within the great houses of England. If we look inside one we can discern how the medieval dining hall became a mere entrance hall with a splendid staircase leading to the piano nobile, where guests were entertained. The kitchen area frequently occupied a separate wing or court, illustrating how the functions of the house became specialized and segregated (Jordan, 1959: 46).
We'll stop here for a brief theoretical consideration about gender. Object relations theories say that boys achieve their masculinity through discontinuity and difference by denying their primary identification with their mothers or mother figures who are usually of the other gender. Consequently masculine identities emphasize such characteristics as difference, separatedness, erection and defence of boundaries, and self-sufficiency.3 Think how these gender characteristics, when reinforced by a male-dominated culture, encourage the over-division and over-segregation of domestic space.
Between the 17th and 19th centuries, a very important innovation occurred in domestic architecture. Imagine how English house interiors critically changed when internal corridors and passages were introduced. Connecting or thoroughfare rooms disappeared. According to the architectural writer, Robin Evans (1978), the introduction of the corridor was instrumental in changing England from a society which had been social, passionate and carnal and which esteemed the body as the person, to a society which cherished privacy, security and segregation and which regarded the body chiefly as a container for the soul.
Consider how the isolated room created by the corridor particularly reflects and fosters the masculine characteristics I have described. Notice too in passing how the name given to the master bedroom honours only the male occupant of that room, and completely ignores the mistress of the house and her rights to private space.4 This practice is not a thing of the past, for I saw recently an example of this type of linguistic coverture in the Weekend Australian Property of August 31–1 September 1996, p. 12. In the featured house belonging to the late Mrs. Kath Munro, one of the main upstairs bedrooms in the house is described as the master bedroom, although the article states that the owner was a widow when she bought the property.
Our next stop is a model gentlemen's house, as designed by the influential Robert Kerr of England in the 19th century. Visualise with me a very detailed house plan. Daphne Spain (1992: 113) outlines how each room in this house was designed for a single purpose, and each territory, including stairways and corridors but excepting the nursery, was divided into gender-segregated areas. There were three rooms deemed to be mainly for the ladies in contrast with six rooms identified as strictly gentlemen's rooms.5 With the sole exception of the ladies' boudoir, males enjoyed easier access to the female rooms than vice versa. This, of course, constitutes inequitable spatial segregation, and it highlights the close association between the number, size and degree of accessibility of spaces allocated to persons and their gender/social status.
The title of the popular English television show, Upstairs Downstairs, indicates how differences in social status were pegged to the spatial co-ordinates of high and low and domestic architecture was sub-divided accordingly. The elevated social status of the gentlefolk is given spatial expression by their practice of inhabitating the upper floors of their residences, while the ground floor or basement was the work place of the servants. Kitchens were located here. Indeed, in Victorian times it was common for the kitchen quarters to be referred to by its location, 'below stairs'. If you have ever visited Saumarez House, the National Trust property near Armidale in N.S.W., you may have noticed the step down from the dining room to the kitchen regions. This step is a concrete example as to how social attitudes to class and gender were reified in our domestic architecture in the days when servants cooked.
Initially in the newly-founded colony, Australian domestic kitchens and laundries were located in separate blocks to the rear of the first settlers' homes. This separation was due to the threat of fire, and the personal discomfort caused by their wood-burning stoves in the intense Summer heat, and possibly because of the use of convict labour. However, from about the mid-nineteenth century, the kitchen began to be integrated into the main building.6 A slow, concomitant shift in social duties took place, as gradually the wife and mother assumed responsibility for the housework in most Australian households.
The architectural critic, Robin Boyd (1991: 3), says that from the start, Australian national policy had dictated that there should be 'a separate house for every family and for every person there should be a separate room'. However, I maintain that 'the acquired English taste for privacy' and the type of individuality implied by this taste were not enjoyed by most of us women. Instead, we have been over-identified with the very concept of the home, to the detriment of our self-development.
The introduction of the California-style bungalow in the 1920s began the liberation of the Australian domestic interior from its traditional English influence. Now at last we can wave goodbye to the long passageway with stuffy little rooms to either side! In 1945 a young woman called Donna Winchester designed her dream house as part of a marriage preparation course while her fiance was overseas on war duties. John Archer quotes her decision to allocate about half the available space to a sociable and airy living room open to the garden where sulking would not be permitted. Donna designed and built a compact kitchen in one corner behind a counter for the benefit of 'the chief technician', as she styled herself.7 The mechanical functionalism of the International Style is apparent in this layout. However it is salutary to remember that Le Corbusier, the father of modern architecture, had a man's dimensions in mind when he devised the standardized module, derived from the Parthenon of the Ancient Greeks, on which he based his house designs.8
Let's pause again while I consider another aspect of object relations theories. Various authorities say that since girls are usually of the same gender as their mothers or mother figures, after differentiation girls develop less sharply-defined boundaries of the self and a greater need for emotional completion in relationships. This is in contrast with boys' clearer-cut ego boundaries (see note 3). Girls' sense of individuality can incorporate and positively evaluate such intersubjective characteristics as connection, attachment, intimacy, sharing and nurturance. In this respect, integrated kitchens like mine where mothers can supervise their young children may be said to support, at least in part, these feminine characteristics.9
I shall finish my tour here with a more comprehensive reappraisal of my own kitchen. Now I notice that its side window gives me only a slanted view of public life on the front street. Moreover, the small size of my kitchen forces me to work alone in it, which effectively prevents any interpersonal co-operation. I am still partially segregated from the household by my food preparation duties, as once I had felt isolated in the home by childcare responsibilities.
In some contemporary homes, sunken floors in the lounge and/or dining areas facilitate the surveillance of children by their mother or mother figure in the kitchen. At first glance this spatial elevation might seem to overturn the upstairs-downstairs division reified in Victorian domestic architecture. However, changes in domestic spatial oganization need to be accompanied by changes in familial and social hierarchies in order for women's domestic status and sense of ourselves to improve. I feel that these comparatively elevated kitchens today consolidate the traditional confinement of women and children to the domestic sphere, thus implicitly reaffirming men's right to the public sphere.
There seem to be elements of both change and consolidation to be discerned in the construction of gender identities, insofar as these are influenced by contemporary domestic layouts such as mine. In one sense, women's kitchen work and childcare duties are given public acknowledgement by changes in domestic architecture; at the same time, our female gaze is presumed to be focused solely on our children in the home.
Kim Dovey (1994: 139) says that the panoptic surveillance function from the kitchen was a selling feature for the new homes of the 1980s. He asserts that a study of newspaper advertisements in Perth and Melbourne between 1968 and 1989 reflects 'a persistent reproduction of gendered power relations and roles in the home' (p. 128). One such advertisement for a new open-plan home plainly perpetuates and promotes existing gendered spatial divisions, since it marketed its client's house 'as a setting for male leisure and female work'. In the advertisement, the man plays games while the woman cooks. The attempt to perpetuate masculine privilege is accentuated by putting the man's words first, in heavy print (p. 139). Whereas the position of women in public life in Australia has changed markedly, Dovey says, it could be argued that the open-plan home is a haven for men from the public demands for equal opportunity (p. 140).
On the other hand, several writers on domestic space suggest that the stream-lined, high-tech appearance of my kitchen could be said to be an inducement for me to go out to paid employment, as it seems to suggest that the housework can now be done at the mere flick of a switch.10 But satisfactory, full-time employment for women is difficult to find, particularly if they, like I, have been out of the work force during the child-rearing years. Since most visitors still assume that I am responsible for all the housework, I feel guilty if the entire living area is not kept clean and tidy most of the time, since now they can see the mess we make. I cannot easily prevent callers partaking of the sight, smell, and sound of my food preparation work. However, I am belatedly cheered when I read that Ruth Madigan et al. (1990: 631) also query the implications arising from the development of open-plan interior layouts. These writers point out that a single public room implies a degree of household unity which may not exist. Lex Blakey's talk reflects a lack of desire for communal living in the contemporary home. Moreover, according to Madigan et al., the fitted kitchen emerged in a period of increased employment and it effectively reinforced the view that domestic labour can be combined with paid employment outside the home, without threat to a gender-based division of labour.
I become aware that my kitchen design still subtly reinforces what Madigan et al. (1990: 640) refer to as 'the patriarchal structure of entitlements and obligations associated with citizenship'. The different social roles allocated to women and men mean that domestic spaces and the meanings arising from these spaces are gender-differentiated. My partner still regards this house as his display home, and I feel that while performing my kitchen chores I have become part of that display. In a sense, I have been commodified as part of his self-enhancing dream.
In my previous homes, I used to enjoy escaping from the more tense or boring moments of family life into a detached kitchen, where at least I could clatter pots and pans together, creating a new stew or a souffle. I often miss the privacy of a traditional, segregated kitchen, but most of all I miss the kitchen table, where body and soul were both fed. I remember the intimate atmosphere when we used to eat our meals in the kitchen. As a child I often enjoyed the comfort of doing my school homework on one end of the kitchen table, while my mother supervised me while doing the ironing on the other end.
This was also the best place for doing the emotional work in the house. How do today's mothers or mothering figures compete with television or computer screens in the living area when a heart-to-heart talk over the table is required? In my experience, the formal dining table in the open dining area is no substitute, as it is open, public, and often dominated by the menfolk. Seeking privacy in a bedroom or bathroom has proved to be an inadequate solution for me, one only to be availed of in a major emergency. We need more research into the effects of the disappearance of the table from our compact kitchens.
Simultaneously, I am becoming aware that my time alone in my open-plan kitchen is now structured by my partner's working routine as once it was by internal walls. Ironically, it is the masculine, capitalistic economy which regulates my enjoyment of my domestic space and hence my desires, through the financial and temporal constraints which operate in my home. Mere material walls do not keep out such pervasive factors as time and ideology.
Open-plan kitchen design both masks and legitimates married women's un- and under-employment, and thus supports the gendered social hierarchy in the wider world. In answer to Ruth Madigan et al., my modern domestic design continues to reproduce a domestic division of labour in which women's rights are subservient to those of men and our obligations greater. For these reasons, I now conclude that my domestic space is still assuredly masculine and I am packing my bags. And I ask, if living in a man's world as we do, will it ever be possible for us women to enjoy a room of our own design? Will the pattern of our inner space ever find expression in our external built environment?
However, until we do more research into our spatial needs and desires throughout our life-cycles, I hesitate to advocate any particular way of dividing up our home interiors. But I do have three brief recommendations to make. First, we need to question how, and in whose interests, our domestic space is produced, structured and divided. To do this, we need to note, and provide for, women's lesser access to owner occupation, the changing family patterns within households, and to observe also how in new homes today, generation is replacing gender and class as the main dividing principle. Second, I suggest that we reconsider what we mean by 'privacy' with a view to how best we might achieve it. Theoreticaly speaking, if we had control over the duration, frequency and content of our interpersonal interactions, and if we could regulate our acoustic privacy, then possibly we could cope without dividing walls. However, I now consider that, until the genders are equal, some internal walls are needed to afford privacy for women in the home. Third, we need new names for many of the new rooms and spaces we create and live in today.
My tour ends here and I'm leaving with you. Take care—and watch that step!
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Fionnuala Neville is a PhD Candidate, Department of English and Communication Studies, and Department of Administration and Training, University of New England, Armidale, NSW 2351. Tel: (02) 6773 2078/6771 2434; Fax: (02) 6773 2623; e-mail: fnevill2@metz.une.edu.au