Essay: In the Dream House
Title: In the Dream House
Author: Carmen Maria Machado
Genre: Autobiography
Carmen Maria Machado’s away-winning experimental memoir In the Dream House challenges the popular narrative of the absence of domestic violence in same-sex relationships. Written as a series of powerful vignettes against the background of an account of abuse, the Dream House serves as a metaphor for the domestic violence Machado experiences at the hands of her partner as well as a physical location. Machado describes the importance of reframing the fictional archive surrounding the LGBTQ+ community by “writing against the archive” and “imagining what cannot be verified,” effectively altering the common assumption that domestic violence only exists in heterosexual relationships (Machado 5). The very act of writing and publishing the memoir has given Machado the agency to challenge the veracity of the aforementioned archive but resist its narrative by offering her own. This, in turn, creates an alternate archive, one that reveals the realities of domestic violence in same-sex relationships without upholding the heteronormative perception of men as the sole aggressors of domestic violence in relationships.
Machado’s destruction of the many existing stereotypes of domestic violence is evident through the fragmentary and incohesive structure of the memoir’s plot. Her incorporation of the pronouns “I” and “you,” in the story creates an intimacy allowing for the development of an interpersonal relationship throughout the story between the reader and writer. This relationship, all-embracing and intimate, not only presents her memoir as highly credible but successfully challenges the myth that all romantic relationships in the queer community are free of the aggression and violence that are so freely applied to domestic violence in heterosexual relationships. Machado writes, “You were not always just a You. I was whole - a symbiotic relationship between my best and worst parts - and then, in one sense of the definition, I was cleaved: a neat lop that took first person - the assured, confident woman, the girl detective, the adventurer - away from the second'' (14). Here, Machado both highlights how her perception of her past and present self have been permanently altered as a lasting result of domestic abuse and speaks for the silenced voices of members belonging to the LGBTQ+ community with similar experiences. If one were to interpret the use of pronouns as Machado’s form of communication between her past and present self, it could also be argued that they inadvertently place her readers in the titular Dream House. Readers are forced to examine the abusive relationship between Machado and the Woman of the Dream House as if they were Machado. Furthermore, the use of pronouns, accompanied by vivid descriptions of pivotal moments in her life before, during, and after the relationship, allows readers to gain further knowledge about domestic violence between individuals in same-sex relationships from a first-hand experience. As a result, her writing sparks the empathy and understanding needed to effectively deconstruct the heteronormative archive that suppresses the voices of millions of others.
By recounting her own story of domestic abuse in a relationship with another woman in her memoir, it could be argued that she offers an archive that challenges that which has been previously been established by centuries of heteronormative stereotypes. Machado’s choice to present the Dream House as a metaphor for the domestic abuse she experienced and as a physical structure in which the abuse took place encourages readers to draw connections between the reconstruction of the archive and the literal structure of the house. Machado describes her time spent living in the Dream House as a, “struggle against an unchangeable landscape that has been hammered into existence by nothing less than time itself; a house that is too big to dismantle by hand…” (Machado 72). It is also worth noting that the architecture of the Dream House is fragmentary and polyphonic, echoing how Machado tells her story through vignetted chapters. The effect of this narrative structure suggestions that each chapter can be compared to the emotionally-charged rooms in the house. This further supports the function of the Dream House as a metaphor used by Machado to invoke particular emotions for her readers that reflect her own. The house itself is a mental prison of traumatic memories that emboldened her partner and made it more difficult for Machado to escape both the house and her abusive partner.
The Dream House also possesses the traumatic memories of Machado’s abusive relationship while living inside it and serves as a haunting reminder of her past trauma. It should be noted that on page 5 Machado describes each room in the house as filled with emotions and memories from the time in which Machado and her partner inhabited it. To her, these experiences invoke the feelings of haunting; establishing the house in her mind as one of horror. It is not until Machado eventually leaves the house, that she is no longer haunted by its violent past. When describing the significance of the Dream House, she states that for victims of abuse, the locations in which they experienced abuse are, “never just places in a piece of writing. If they are, the author has failed. Setting is not inert. It is activated by point of view” (72). This statement, while about the overall experiences of victims of abuse, also supports the argument that the location of the abuse is significant to one’s lasting trauma. To revisit these locations, in person or through the text of a memoir like Machado’s would mean to once again encounter the memories of abuse. Consequently, without the support or resources available for survivors of same-sex abuse, these accounts are ultimately neglected and invalidated by society. Therefore, without any archive to draw from, accounts of same-sex domestic abuse remain overwhelmingly limited and inconclusive.
Like the construction of the Dream House, the existing archive is supported by the historical accounts and validation to support it. Her experiences, while unique to her, are representative of victims of domestic abuse within the LGBTQ+ community and beyond. Rather than immediately referencing historical accounts of domestic abuse between same-sex couples, she briefly describes the role of trauma in the lives of domestic abuse victims who identify as members of the queer community. The constructed archive described by Machado at the beginning of her memoir is also dependent on the perpetuation of narratives that are supported by the normalization of abuse acts in heterosexual relationships. The absence of stories like Machado’s are also normalized, and thus, are overwhelmingly invalidated. The limited information and resources allotted to victims of same-sex domestic abuse are explored primarily in small amount of dedicated social experiments and psychological studies available to the general public. Machado writes that by, “Acknowledging the insufficiency of this idealism is nearly as painful as acknowledging that we’re the same as everyone else. All of this fantasy is an act of supreme optimism, or if you’re feeling less charitable, arrogance” (109). By directly referencing the role of limited research on domestic abuse in same-sex relationships, she acknowledges one of the main reasonings for the continued perpetuation of stereotypes and narratives attributed to domestic abuse. The exclusion of LGBTQ+ testimonies allows for their continued silencing and alienation of their stories numerous accounts.
In The Dream House also provides a platform for the circulation of stories like Machado’s that are absent from the existing archive. This idea is examined by author Saidiya Hartman in her 2008 essay, “Venus in Two Acts,” in which she discusses how Venus, a goddess and emblematic figure for enslaved African women in the transatlantic slave trade, is omnipresent in the archive of Atlantic Slavery. Of this, Hartman writes, “The archive is, in this case, a death sentence, a tomb, a display of the violated body, an inventory of property…” (Hartman 2). She offers writing as an act of defiance to the westernized archive of the transatlantic slave trade that has enabled the perpetuation of false narratives of experiences across the Black diaspora. Hartman also writes “As a writer committed to telling stories, I have endeavored to represent the lives of the nameless and the forgotten, to reckon with loss, and to respect the limits of what cannot be known” (4). Hartman recognizes the power her writing holds to oppose the exclusionary nature of historical accounts and takes it upon herself to challenge them with her own. She also acknowledges the ability of writers who represent an underrepresented population to present their narratives on important topics that are often overlooked as the basis for discourse through her general discussion of abuse in the Dream House. Likewise, Machado offers her experience with domestic violence in a same-sex relationship as a basis for which to build an all-inclusive archive. Thus, Machado opposes the existing archive on the historically reinforced archive of domestic violence existing only in heterosexual relationships.
In determining the role of the Dream House as an archive in the memoir, the importance of documentation in the development of an archive should also be taken into consideration. An example of Machado doing this can be found in the chapter titled, “Dream House a Prologue,” when she makes her goal for writing the book known to her readers. Machado acknowledges the privileges afforded to her abusive ex-partner as a white woman, and the continuous silencing of her own voice. She states that by writing her memoir, she “enters into the archive that domestic abuse between two partners who share gender identity is both possible and not uncommon. It can look something like this. I speak into the silence. I toss the strone into a crevice; measure the emptiness by the sound” (Machado 4). She aims to not only share her experiences as a survivor of same-sex domestic violence as a fat, bi-sexual woman of color, but to pave the way for others to do the same. With this, she highlights the importance of openly speaking about her experiences and encouraging discourse on domestic abuse in same-sex relationships where there is none. Hartman addresses the idea of documentation in a similar way in her essay by describing the archive in terms of its violent nature. She explains that “The libidinal investment in violence is everywhere apparent in the documents, statements, and institutions that decide our knowledge of the past. What has been said and what can be said about Venus takes for granted the traffic between fact, fantasy, desire, and violence” (Hartman 5). Both Machado’s and Hartman’s arguments are based on the idea that documentation not only establishes the validity of the archive, it can be used against the experiences of those who remain unrepresented in public discourse on important topics. For Machado, this means that as a survivor of domestic abuse in a same-sex relationship, she is unprotected by the same laws that have been put in place to protect individuals who have survived domestic abuse in heterosexual relationships.
Machado’s arguments for the absence of LGBTQ+ voices in the popular archive is supported by a majority of the very limited number of studies on domestic violence in same-sex relationships. Adam M. Messinger, an associate professor at and researcher in Justice Studies at Northeastern Illinois University, writes about the importance of studying and documenting IPV (Intimate Partner Violence) in same-sex relationships in his book LGBTQ Intiamte Partner Violence: Lessons for Policy, Practice, and Research. He describes the outcomes of IPV in LGBTQ+ relationships as, “quite severe, ranging from medical health issues and substance abuse to sexual risk-taking, economic problems, fear for safety, and physical injury” (Messinger 195). In her memoir, Machado shares that she experiences each of these outcomes as a victim of domestic violence and that, because they were at the hands of another woman, are treated differently by the legal system. For example, on page 125 of her memoir titled “Dream House as Chekhov’s Gun,” Machado recounts her intoxicated partner suddenly assaulting her after an intense interaction at a bowling alley during which she was injured. The woman from the Dream House throws items at her, sending Machado running to the bathroom for protection. Messinger also argues that some victims of same-sex domestic violence, “Decide that silence is the best path. For instance, a number of LGBTQ IPV victims report seeking help from LGBTQ friends and being told to remain quiet, lest IPV further stigmatizes an already stigmatized population” (196). The act of writing and publishing the book is evidence of Machado’s desire to push for the same attention and study of same-sex domestic violence and to encourage other victims of domestic abuse to choose their voice over silence. Additionally, she gives her readers the access to information and tools to develop an archive that represents their stories. For Machado, this alternate archive exists in the form of her memoir and in the metaphor of the Dream House.
By offering her own experience, Machado also has the unique ability to construct an archive of stories to reflect her identity and sexuality while deconstructing existing stereotypes. Hartman echoes this in her essay when discussing the ways in which an established archive can benefit one population while permanently harming another. The stories belonging to the latter, while just as credible, are absent from public discussion. In her introduction, Hartman states, “The loss of stories sharpens the hunger for them. So it is tempting to fill the gaps and provide closure where there is none. To create a space for mourning where it is prohibited. To fabricate a witness to a death not much noticed” (Hartman 8). The absence of certain narratives, whether they are about the Transatlantic Slave Trade or domestic violence in the LGBTQ+ community leads to the continued circulation of other more dominant narratives. In addition to her personal account of domestic violence, Machado also provides the historical accounts of domestic abuse between individuals in heterosexual and homosexual relationships throughout the book to further support her experiences. Readers are presented with the rare documentation of same-sex domestic abuse that Machado argues was so important for her metaphorical destruction of the Dream House and of the stereotypical archive that supports the existence domestic violence in heterosexual relationships but not in same-sex relationships.
When describing the way in which same-sex domestic violence is generally received by the public, Machado uses the metaphor of the Dream House to illustrate how a dominant archive can be binding and controlling. Throughout the book, frequent connections are made between the trauma she experienced at the hands of her partner and the memories that she will always associate with the Dream House. Once her relationship became abusive with the Woman from the Dream House, the house which she once perceived to be a beacon of possibility, transforms into a house of horrors. This altered perception of the house also reflects how her approach to the abuse she experienced changed after she found the strength to escape and pursue a life outside its walls. Rather than seeking immediate support; she began to seek sources on domestic abuse between women. With limited findings, Machado came to the conclusion that accounts of domestic abuse between women are commonly questioned and refuted. Machado writes, “In other words, one woman writing is mad and a woman-who-loves-women writing is mad squared. Hysteria and inversion, compounded like interest; is an eternally growing debt” (Machado 126). She continues to highlight how, as a woman who was abused by another woman, her experiences have been largely overlooked by the general public. This supports the argument that Machado makes throughout the book that because there is no basis for comparison between domestic violence in heterosexual and homosexual relationships, as there are little to no resources available for survivors.
Machado, like her readers, have largely been exposed to the stereotypes surrounding domestic abuse without the inclusion of LGBTQ+ experiences. The metaphor of the Dream House gives readers a basis on which they may continue to build an all-inclusive archive countering the myths about the non-aggressive nature of queer relationionships. Its also used to highlight the impacts of the lack of exposure to domestic violence in same-sex relationships. This is especially significant when determining the normalization of aggression in males and its stigmatization in females in the existing archive. Machado describes earliest understandings of bi-sexuality as a teenager, during which she finds herself sexually attracted to a girl in one of her classes. She writes, “Years later, I’d figured that part out. But then, I didn’t know what it meant to be afraid of another woman. Do you see now? Do you understand?” (Machado 139). Because of the absence of resources on domestic violence in LGBTQ+ relationships, Machado initially found these experiences to be abnormal rather than something comparable to heterosexual domestic violence. She describes this lack of attention as the act of “circling essential truths that no one wanted to look at directly as if they were the sun: Women could abuse other women. Women have abused other women'' (200). The memoir aids in the deconstruction of Machado’s Dream House and the validation of her experiences by addressing it publicly and in a way that encourages discourse and further documentation.
In conclusion, The Dream House addresses the importance of deconstructing the existing narratives around domestic violence in heterosexual and homsequal relationships by creating an archive that is all-inclusive and free of stereotypes drive by gender bias. The raw emotions presented to and experienced by her readers illustrates the experience of many victims and survivors of same-sex domestic abuse in a way that remains untouched by the limited number of studies on the subject. By using her platform as a writer to inform the general public about the realities of same-sex domestic violence, Machado encourages the further discussion of an important topic and phenomenon that is so often overlooked and misunderstood by the masses.
Works Cited
“CONCLUSIONS: Where Do We Go from Here?” LGBTQ Intimate Partner Violence: Lessons for Policy, Practice, and Research, by Adam M. Messinger, 1st ed., University of California Press, Oakland, California, 2017, pp. 195–198. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/j.ctt1j2n8sf.12. Accessed 8 Dec. 2020.
Machado, Carmen Maria. In the Dream House: a Memoir. Graywolf Press, 2019.
“Venus in Two Acts.” Small Axe, Number 26 (Volume 12, Number 2), by Hartman, Saidiya V., Duke University Press, 2008. pp. 1-14.