57 pages • 1 hour read
Content Warning: This section of the guide contains explicit descriptions of sex work, alcohol dependency, sex trafficking, domestic violence, child neglect, and death by suicide.
Historical narratives about women can reflect biases and stereotypes from the time the narratives were written. Hallie Rubenhold argues that the treatment of Jack the Ripper’s “canonical” five victims has echoed and preserved Victorian attitudes toward women and morality. To counter these tendencies, Rubenhold seeks to expose and question the misrepresentation of women in history.
Rubenhold cites the still-widespread and mistaken idea that all five victims were sex workers, when the evidence suggests only Mary Kelly and Elisabeth Stride practiced sex work. The Victorian press even suggested that “the majority of women who inhabited” the lodging houses of Whitechapel were “with very few exceptions […] all sex workers” (22). As Rubenhold repeatedly points out, this assumption was false: Many poor and lower-class women in Whitechapel and elsewhere in the East End performed a variety of odd jobs, often alternating between workhouses, rooms in boarding houses, and living on the streets when they did not have sufficient funds to secure a room.
While the view painting most poor, unhoused women as sex workers was influenced by the Victorian media’s common views of Whitechapel, it was also buttressed by more general Victorian ideas of the “fallen woman” (86). For example, as in the case of Elisabeth Eddowes, 19th-century European society made little distinction between a woman who was single and pregnant and a “prostitute who solicited openly” (167). In fact, simply by being women who lived without a male presence in their lives, these women were seen as immoral and prone to sexual deviance. Such a lack of distinctions reflects the Victorian era’s strict policing of women’s sexuality, which in turn created social stigma and barriers to legal employment that could worsen the situations of women who fell on hard times.
Likewise, alcohol dependency was regarded as “a marker of a person’s degenerate character, ‘intemperate’ nature, poor judgment, moral weakness, and idleness” (123), especially for women. Rubenhold explains how these moralizing views tended to distort or ignore the social and economic circumstances that made alcohol dependency so prevalent among the poor and lower-class, such as the poor quality of London’s drinking water that led to high rates of consumption of alcoholic beverages. As Rubenhold points out in the experiences of Annie Chapman, even those who sought professional medical help did not receive the care they needed, as the emphasis on alcohol dependency as a moral failing led to ineffective treatments and further exacerbated the stigma and shame felt by those experiencing dependency.
Rubenhold thus seeks to complicate the common narratives surrounding the “canonical” five by exposing how common prejudices and assumptions about women, poverty, and alcohol dependency enabled reductive or dismissive narratives about the five women to flourish. In more closely examining the women’s lives and wider context, Rubenhold seeks to offer a more nuanced understanding of the lives of Victorian women.
Victorian culture saw women who were unhoused and impoverished as morally and sexually suspect. Throughout The Five, Rubenhold exposes how the social dynamics of poverty and gender intersected to create special difficulties for women who found themselves in adverse economic and social circumstances.
The five women all experienced periods when they either lived with men outside of formal marriage, or lived outside of a stable relationship. Since Victorian England conceived of women primarily in terms of their relation to men, such irregular situations made the lives of the five women especially difficult. Describing the situation faced by Polly Nichols after her marital separation, Rubenhold writes of how her contemporaries would regard her as “an aberration, a failure,” leading to assumptions of “sexual immorality” (58). Women were expected to remain married and faithful even in situations of neglect or abuse; male adultery was not considered sufficient grounds for a divorce. Whatever a woman’s circumstances, it was often believed “that a person’s own choices and behavior were the cause of poverty” (126). This was arguably even more true for women, who were held to far narrower and stricter moral standards than Victorian men.
Women’s gender also made them more likely to fall into and stay in poverty. The traditional menial jobs for women, laundry and sewing work, did not pay a living wage. Work in a factory was harsh and demanded very long hours. Rubenhold describes how for women “without an offer of employment or any money at their disposal, it could prove impossible to extract oneself from the cycle of poverty” (61). There was no safety net for widows either, like Annie Chapman’s mother Ruth (108-09), who had no legal claims on her deceased husband’s pension and needed the support of her husband’s employer to sustain her family. Likewise, a woman like Kate Eddowes who became pregnant outside of wedlock would be singled out and unable to find a willing employer. Like poverty, “it was widely believed that personal choice, and not circumstance, motivated women to take up prostitution” (172), even though it was precisely the economic and social circumstances surrounding women that forced so many of them into sex work to survive.
Thus, even though the Victorian view was that women were especially vulnerable and needed protection, the realities of Victorian working-class life and poverty created a vicious cycle for women, including all five women whose lives are described in The Five.
Rubenhold sees her responsibility in writing biographies of all five “canonical” victims of Jack the Ripper as an attempt to humanize them. While Jack the Ripper has become something of a notorious and famous figure, his victims have been frequently dismissed as “mere” sex workers. Rubenhold argues that this dismissive tendency implies that the women, in a way, deserved to be killed for engaging in behavior seen as immoral and risky: “[W]e embrace the set of values […] which teaches women that they are of a lesser value and can expect to be dishonored and abused […] We enforce the notion that ‘bad women’ deserve punishment and that ‘prostitutes’ are a subspecies of female” (346). By writing about the women and calling attention to the ways their lives illuminate the lives of other Victorian women, Rubenhold believes she can restore their “dignity” (24).
With this goal, Rubenhold is careful to include personal and relatable details of each woman’s life. She provides as many details as possible about their family backgrounds and recounts the difficulties they faced with sympathy, such as when she emphasizes that Annie Chapman sought treatment for her alcohol dependency or writes about Mary Kelly’s sadness after having to relocate to the East End to evade traffickers. She also attempts to highlight key items or cultural artifacts that illuminate something personal about each woman, such as the Swedish hymnbook from Elisabeth Stride’s childhood that was still among her few possessions when she was murdered (208). Similarly, she spotlights Kate Eddowes’s chapbook on the execution of Charles Christopher Robinson that she likely co-wrote with her husband Tom (267-69), and the song Mary Kelly sung shortly before her death (332-33). Such details serve to not only present the women in the context of their own time, but to also make them more individualized and humanized. As Rubenhold sums up how she wanted to present the five women, “They argued with their siblings, they wept, they dreamed, they hurt, they enjoyed small triumphs” (24).
The Five is therefore an effort to reinterpret the Jack the Ripper story to make it about the lives of the five victims, rather than about their murders or the figure of the killer. In this sense, Rubenhold’s argument in The Five is not just a feminist critique of how Jack the Ripper has been discussed by historians and the general public; it is also a criticism of true crime narratives involving female victims that focus on the killer and exclude or diminish those who were killed.
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