I wrote something a while back in Scott's comments about pulp fiction girls and true confessions rags. Yesterday's post got me thinking about the topic again. Here's what originally got me started: Scott, writing in Serious Victorianist mode about the Fallen Woman archetype in Victorian lit, said:

Their fall is not the result, then, of the machinations of some libertine seducer; it's the result of a series of internal, individual failures. ... Dingley's arguments, however, suggest a greater consideration for the environmental causes of the woman's fall.

It's nature versus nurture, to some extent. Is the fallen woman constructed by her environment or is she inherently corrupt?

It is the latter position that dominates much of the public discussion (and especially the more evangelical sermons) on the subject for the 100 years between the founding of the Magdalen and the emergence of the tremendously popular reclamation movement in the middle of the nineteenth century. The fallen woman is a social pariah. She is dangerous, libidinous, and predatory. She corrupts all those around her, and she is to be avoided at all costs. Her path as set, and representations of her, like Hogarth's can serve as cautionary tales.

So I was thinking, isn't the 20th century corollary to all this found in pulp fiction covers and True Confessions magazines? Pulp fiction covers concerning women seem to focus on the she-devil within - with titles like Lust Is A Woman, Sin on Wheels and Dime-A-Dance Queen, how could they not? These are inherently lusty creatures - "dangerous, libidinous and predatory" - who lure men down the path of sin. Prostitution (or at least promiscuity) is inherent nature, and is even seen as destiny.

On the other hand, the True Confessions genre deals with the flip side of the coin - good girls led astray, or who merely perceive themselves as "dirty girls." Their sinfulness comes about accidentally, or due to untoward circumstances - i.e., nurture. There's always remorse, guilt and repentance. Florence King wrote true confessions before moving on to her better-known novels and historical essays. Her first published piece was "I Committed Adultery in A Diabetic Coma." In Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady, she details her initial survey of the genre, ending with:

What really mattered in all the stories was not what actually happened but what the heroine believed she had done, or what she seemed to have done in the eyes of other people. Once in a while a heroine went out and got plastered and fucked, but it was never worth it, never. Every plot was constructed on a solid foundation of free-floating female guilt." (245)

It seems to me that the Magdalen operated on a premise of female guilt combined with religious guilt. Of course, their goals surrounding public hygiene were noble - I certainly don't begrudge them that. (But I never cease to be fascinated by organized religion's demonization of female sexuality.) Besides concerning themselves with venereal health, they also contributed to general cleanliness. As I told Scott, I think it's interesting that the Magdalen put these women to work doing laundry as rehabilitation exercise - impure women/dirty girls redeeming themselves by cleaning. Laundry, and the boiling of sheets particularly, is nothing if not purification. (As is cleaning up the everyday impurities of the home. This was an age of chamberpots and mysterious diseases, after all.) Was the metaphorical supposed to transform the personal, perhaps?

Also, now I'm thinking about how traditional "women's work" is all about purification. And the fact that there are fallen women, but no fallen men. Good little girls are clean, both sexually and otherwise; males who are "all boy" are lusty and grimy. And the old observation that girls who sleep around are sluts, but boys who sleep around are just sowing their oats.

Scott also mentioned that the Magdalen sheared incoming inmates' hair, possibly for hygiene reasons. But I think one could argue that this is symbolically significant as well - woman's glory and all that. Shearing women of an essential, wild bit of femaleness might make them easier to control. Look at all the pulp fiction girls - wild, long hair, preferably of some strong shade - red or blonde or black. Cutting all that off means no messy bed hair, just a clean, innocent-looking face. If you don't look lusty, then you must not be lusty. The external informs (reforms?) the internal.