The final stanza of “The Addict,” a poem by Anne Sexton published in the collection Live or Die in 1966. The poem is about a woman who becomes addicted to tranquilizers and cannot recover.

In “The Addict,” a lyric poem by Anne Sexton, an icon of Second-Wave Feminism, a woman becomes addicted to tranquilizers and slips into unconsciousness. At the beginning of the poem, published in the collection Live or Die (1966), the narrator is already addicted, as she takes “eight [pills] at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles” (Sexton line 4). The narrator denies her addiction, claiming that she’s “merely staying in shape,” which mirrors the false abilities of such drugs that physicians promoted, yet she admits that she’s “becoming somewhat of a chemical mixture” (14, 23-24). This indecisiveness is present throughout the stanzas of the poem: the narrator is so subdued by the drugs she’s addicted to that she cannot discern whether or not she is addicted to the drugs. In the fourth stanza, the vivid metaphor, “It’s a kind of war / where I plant bombs inside / of myself” indicates that the narrator knows that she is endangering herself, yet in the sixth stanza, she compares her pills to the much more favorable “eight chemical kisses” (32-34, 54). However, these kisses are not kisses of love but of death, which is communicated by the final three lines, “Fee-fi-fo-fum – / Now I’m borrowed. Now I’m numb:” the pills have won (58-60). Sexton concludes on this note of loss of bodily autonomy and control to explicitly warn her female audience of the threat tranquilizers pose to their bodies and their capacity for self-awareness.

Work Cited:

Sexton, Anne. “The Addict.” Live or Die: Poems, e-book ed., New York City, Open Road Integrated Media, 2016, pp. 91-92.

Everywoman, a newspaper published bimonthly in Los Angeles from May 1970 to April 1972, republished advertisements from other publications in order to expose expectations of patriarchal society. On the second page of the fourth issue of Everywoman, a Valium advertisement with the text “35, single and psychoneurotic” appears.

An advertisement for Valium titled, “35, Single and Psychoneurotic” by Claudia Morrow, published in the June 1970 issue of Everywoman. Reprinted from another publication and overlaid with an editorial note, the ad is portrayed as misogynistic and the drug as dangerous.

The ad includes six snapshots of a woman on vacation, accompanied by a story about an “unmarried with low self-esteem” woman named Jan who is in a “losing pattern” and is afraid she will never get married (“35, Single” 2). This ad is ridiculously misogynistic, as it is centered on the notion that women embody such a strong and innate desire to be married to a man that they enter depressive states as a result, which suggests that women are codependent to the point of needing treatment. Of course, the solution to a “neurotic sense of failure, guilt, [and] loss” is Valium, which is portrayed as a cure-all for all “psychoneurotic” states (2). Originally appearing in other publications, the ad tempts women into treating their troubles with a strong, highly addictive tranquilizer guaranteed to render them docile and complaisant. Reprinted in Everywoman alongside an editorial note that sarcastically reads “Valium does it again!,” however, subverts the original message of the advertisement, revealing that women should be wary of pharmaceutical solutions like Valium and similar drugs that claim to free women from woes that patriarchal society first creates and then dictates that they endure (2).

Work Cited:

“35, Single and Psychoneurotic.” Everywoman, vol. 1, no. 4, 10 July 1970, p. 2. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/community.28036099. Accessed 17 Nov. 2021.

In volume three, issue nine of New Woman’s Times, readers – referred to as “sisters” – of the periodical write in to narrate their experiences with prescribed tranquilizers to warn other readers about both the drugs and the physicians who attempt to prescribe them. A pregnant “Sister #1,” after having been beaten by her husband, tells her gynecologist about the domestic abuse she has suffered, only to be told by the physician to “relax more” as she is written a prescription for tranquilizers (Sojourner 8).

Three “sisters” describe their experiences with prescribed tranquilizers in the article, “Sister – Woman – Sister” by Mary Sojourner, published in the September 1977 issue of New Woman’s Times.

In addition to compelling graphic imagery, the anecdote offered by “Sister #1” increases its persuasiveness through the inclusion of an expert opinion: “Peggy McGarry, Director for a Philadelphia program for battered wives, said doctors almost universally prescribe tranquilizers for women who confide that their husbands beat them” (8). Following the story of “Sister #1,” “Sister #2” reports on an ad for Placidyl, a “short-term neurotic,” which describes a woman overwhelmed by all of life’s difficulties (8). “Sister #3” struggles with romantic troubles and depression, followed by an episode of shock after her psychiatrist neglects to warn her not to drink alcohol while on prescribed Valium and Triavil (8). Finally, “Sister #4” describes a friend of 85 years, who was sent to a nursing home despite her protests and drugged with “Stelazine, a powerful tranquilizer not recommended for use with the elderly” until her eventual death from overdose (8). These anecdotes, accompanied by an article that elaborates on the culture of drug pushers from advertisements to physicians, personalize issues of addiction and inform the audience of the threat of tranquilizers.

Work Cited:

Sojourner, Nancy. “Sister – Woman – Sister.” New Women’s Times, vol. 3, no. 9, Sept.-Oct. 1977, pp. 8-10. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/community.28041298.

Written by former psychologist Sylvia Hartman, “Princess Valium Meets Shrink Think,” published in Everywoman, defines Valium as both a tranquilizer and threat to individual freedom, and explains how psychiatrists arbitrarily prescribe the drugs to women through the sexist “Draw-a-Person” test. The article begins with an ad which depicts a “Draw-a-Person” test, and describes it as “a psychiatric diagnostic tool” that allows psychiatrists to determine whether or not a patient should be prescribed Valium (Hartman 1). Hartman dismantles the credibility of the “test,” but warns her audience that despite the ridiculousness of “shrink think,” they might be asked to “‘Draw a person, a whole person,” and lays out the method for “psyching-out [a] psychologist” (8). In a tongue-in-cheek tone, Hartman explains how to avoid being prescribed Valium by drawing parts of the body correctly, which includes “put[ting] junk around the eyes,” “mak[ing] the hair neat,” and “keeping the hands away from the body…but not TOO far away” (8). Each of these examples is an opportunity for Hartman to sarcastically point out the ridiculousness of the test. For example, she recommends avoiding shading, as that would be an opportunity for a psychiatrist to conclude that a patient “sees a ray of hope and has confidence that her future will be bright and sunny,” a state of mind that would certainly be treated with Valium (8).

Drawing a Playboy Bunny: the optimal way to take a “Draw-a-Person” test, as detailed by Sylvia Hartman in the May 1970 issue of Everywoman.

The article concludes with an illustration of the ideal way to take the “Draw-a-Person” test, a woman who is ironically a Playboy Bunny (10). Through humor and critique, Hartman reaches the audience of Everywoman and warns women of Valium and “shrink think” while simultaneously critiquing other patriarchal norms.

Work Cited:

Hartman, Sylvia. “Princess Valium Meets Shrink Think.” Everywoman, vol. 1, no. 2, 29 May 1970, pp. 1+. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/community.28036097.

Accompanied by advertisements for common prescription tranquilizers such as Stelazine, Librium, and Pavabid, an article by Michael Castleman of the Free People’s Clinic in the April 1974 issue of Her-self shares statistics that reveal the extent to which women, on average, take tranquilizers more than men. According to Castleman, “of the staggering 40% of adult Americans who take mood-altering drugs regularly, women outnumber men two to one” (12). To explain why women are consuming drugs at a higher rate, Castleman cites a study by Dr. Lind Fidell, a psychologist at the California State University at Northridge. Dr. Fidell finds that, “physicians tend to take their male patients’ symptoms of illness more seriously than those of their female patients,” who were more often stereotyped as hypochondriacs, and that 75% of ads for mood-altering drugs in the magazine Modern Medicine depicted women as likely beneficiaries of medication, convincing psychiatrists to target women (Castleman 12).

An article, “Men get cured… Women get drugged” by Michael Castleman, published alongside ads for prescription sedatives in the May 1976 issue of Her-self. In the article, Castleman shares statistics on tranquilizer abuse that reveal that addiction is a feminist issue.

The inclusion of these and similar statistics supports the stories of women, and illustrates with concrete data the dangers of prescription tranquilizers. Castleman concludes the article with his observations of similarities between ads for tranquilizers: “all of these ads have strong Freudian overtones: women are hysterical; it’s all in their heads; women can’t cope; they don’t know what’s good for them [but] luckily, their god-like male doctors do” (13). Juxtaposing ads and statistics that undermine them, this summation by Castleman, an expert in the medical industry and advocate for patients rights, reveals the misogynistic tactics of the pharmaceutical industry – from drug company to psychiatrist – that convince women that the cure is always a company’s tranquilizer.

Work Cited:

Castleman, Michael. “Men Get Cured… Women Get Drugged.” Her-self, vol. 3, no. 1, Apr. 1974, pp. 12-13. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/community.28038343.

A poem, “Simplified Version of a Woman’s Life,” by Claudia Morrow, published in the May 1975 issue of Her-self. The poem details how a woman’s evolving relationship with a benzodiazepine, Valium, affects her autonomy.

Published in the initial issue of the fourth volume of Her-Self, the poem “Simplified Version of a Woman’s Life” by Claudia Morrow tells a story of a young girl transformed into an object to be married with the help of Valium. In the first stanza, the narrator reminisces about the freedom of childhood through vibrant imagery, “look[ing] for movement / in mosaics / of leaves” and “watch[ing] the leaves / of Tullys’ fruit trees / sift the glow / of the red, summer sun” (Morrow 18). Through her awareness and observations of the world, the narrator is free. Transitioning into the second stanza, the narrator matures into adulthood and the world becomes harsher: her father says he “wouldn’t have married a smart-ass woman,” implying that the narrator needs to outgrow her freedom and become suitable for marriage while “the earth cool[s], [and] close[s] its lactic pores” (18). The misogynistic portrayal of the narrator as a commodity to be married renders the narrator a “cow woman,” and her body a dowry (18). Through an extended bovine metaphor, the narrator is “fattened on boiled hay” and forced to “suckle a myth / of dried bones / and Valium” (18). In other words, she is prepared for marriage, and is unable to observe the world, or maintain agency within her circumstances, as a result of having been sedated. The final stanza begins with the lines, “Women’s winter isn’t over. We’re still locked / in iron-rib stanchions” referencing both the shackles of prescription tranquilizers and the greater oppression of women (18). The poem ends on a powerful message of hope, as the narrator gradually comes out of her docile state, “remember[ing] how to move,” “stretching atrophied muscles,” and “mend[ing] spiritual tendons” (18). In this final stanza, the narrator rediscovers her will to fight the oppression that was prescribed, both by her doctor and patriarchal society. Ultimately, she avoids the more dire fate of Anne Sexton’s narrator in “The Addict” – perhaps, in part, thanks to the personal narratives, poetry, visual imagery, and relevant research that warned against tranquilizer abuse in second-wave feminist publications.

Work Cited:

Morrow, Claudia. “Simplified Version of a Woman’s Life.” Her-self, vol. 4, no. 1, May 1975, p. 18. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/community.28038351.