I think Amelia Earhart was ambiguous, though I wouldn't go so far as to call her a lesbian. My "conclusion," in quotations because I haven't researched the reality of my claim, is an effect of the Hilary Swank-produced film, Amelia, wherein Swank portrays the title role. Although this claim is founded on Hollywood cinema, the idea of questioning Earhart's sexuality in the larger context of a reconsideration of perspective is the real, central issue.
Friday evening, a friend and I sat among several middle-aged couples in a theatre at Showplace 7, the previews just beginning. Although I knew the basics of Earhart's aviation career and disappearance, I knew nothing of her personal life. As the reel progressed, not-so-subtle details led me to believe the film encouraged that Earhart was homosexual.
Throughout the film, Earhart describes aviation as a way for her "to be free," though she does not qualify from what she wants to be free. After referring to her "alcoholic father" at one point, it's plausible she suffered abuse, although in the same breath she describes him as "the kindest, most generous man" she ever knew. This complex father-daughter relationship, in addition to the fact she lived in Kansas, may have been the catalysts for her desire "to be free," but even in her latent years the yearning exists perniciously. Rather than flying because it make her feels free, she repeatedly refers to flying as a way to be free, suggesting freedom is not yet attained.
The film also explores Earhart's romantic life; first, with George Putnam (Richard Gere), her public relations man. Before Earhart agrees to marry Putnam, she makes him understand that if after a year the marriage has not satisfied or fulfilled her, she has the option to leave him. The hesitancy with which she treats Putnam may be an effect of the relationship she had with her father, suggesting multiple facets of her life, sexuality included, were affected.
Later, Earhart becomes entangled with Gene Vidal (Ewan McGregor), and when Earhart notices an attractive female sitting nearby, she comments, "I'd like to have legs like hers," shortly thereafter conveying her desire to be a boy. Her explorative attitude towards gender may be just a curiosity, but in the context of the film, it especially emphasizes her non-normative perspective.
Although Earhart purports to love Putnam, she lived in the era during which females had just achieved suffrage, and I wonder if her attachment possessed ulterior financial motives. Putnam initially says the thought of a female pilot making a flight around the world would be unimaginable, impossible even. Females simply didn't possess the skill, or so he thought. Yet, as Earhart and Putnam further their romance, his confidence in her swells as their finances diminish.
Despite my argument for an ambiguous reading of Amelia, perhaps an even stronger feminist reading could unfold. Notwithstanding this potentially more applicable interpretation, I felt compelled to present a case for homosexual Amelia, based on an essay I read earlier this year.
In her 1980 essay, "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," Adrienne Rich argues heterosexuality is assumed until proven otherwise, not dissimilar from our legal notion of "innocent until proven guilty." Unless someone identifies as homosexual or non-heterosexual, people generally presume that person is straight, even if said person has not identified himself or herself in any way. Part of that assumption may be derived from a vastly heterosexual population, but why do we have a presumption to begin with? What warrants the obsession with labels, especially those of a sexual nature?
Earhart's "true sexuality" is irrelevant in this instance. More important is that we can and do question the heterosexual assumption. This notion is especially practical somewhere like a college campus, which usually has more liberal than conservative politics — even one in Muncie. Strolling through the Quad, assuming what we will of people based on majority statistics, not only limits the perception we have of these people, but underscores our own reluctance to consider that which is not visible and an unwillingness to consider the minority, the implicit.