In “The World of Wrestling,” Roland Barthes argues that wrestlers are very much like characters in a play, and each wrestler has a designated role or “type,” such as “the bastard” or “the underdog.”  It reminded me of an Elizabeth Robins short story I read in my modernist women writers class called “Under His Roof” about the strained relationship between two former friends. Esther is a well-off housewife who takes pride in her house and doesn’t like change.  Miranda intends to join the suffrage movement and break into Parliament, against Esther’s advice.  

It becomes apparent that the characters embody the opposing views of women during the suffrage movement.  On the one hand, there’s Esther, who’s comfortable in her decaying and unsafe house (representing patriarchy) and who fears the suffrage movement (and change).  She marries out of desperation, believing this is the best and safest option. In Miranda’s words, she lives in the past. Miranda, on the other hand, is willing to risk life and limb for the right to vote.  She doesn’t admire the old house, and she points out its flaws. She is unmarried, independent, and determined. By reducing her characters to archetypes, Robins has a clear medium to convey the viewpoints and make an argument about suffrage.  Barthes touches on this idea when he praises wrestling for its clarity and lack of ambiguity.  

This level of simplicity can draw criticism from people who think it’s too heavy-handed.  So how clear is too clear? Robins manages this balance by giving her two archetypal characters a backstory unrelated to suffrage that also connects them.  She also doesn’t bypass the range of emotions both women show. Esther is proud and condescending, but worried for Miranda. Miranda, in turn, struggled with heartbreak in the past, finds a purpose and dignity in the movement, and feels a degree of tenderness toward Esther.  

And if a character type is meant to be unpredictable (as Barthes describes the “bastard”), how can one be unpredictable and yet clear?  I suspect by “unpredictable,” Barthes means “appearing unpredictable,” as the entire wrestling match is an appearance or show. We can have a general idea of what the character will do, even if how he goes about it, and the result, is familiar.  For example, Wile E. Coyote tries all sorts of bizarre methods to catch Road Runner, but someone who’s seen enough episodes knows he’ll always fail.   

Further, at one point, Barthes says at least some of the audience members aren’t within the roles of society.  This suggests that a person who watches a flamboyant display like wrestling becomes a type or role, the same as the wrestlers.  It seems strange that people who normally don’t encourage fighting may egg on fighting and violence in a staged setting—until we consider how humans behave differently in different environments, a deconstructionist outlook on human identity.  The person I am in my dorm, the person I am in band class, and the person I am when I’m at church are not identical. Role playing and archetypes aren’t limited to wrestlers or fictional characters; it’s a life skill for everyday people.