Abstract
Michel Foucault's work illustrates two central problems which run through any scholarly attempt to consider gender. First, thinking about gender is painful and embarrassing, no matter who is doing it: even those fortunate souls who are completely confident in their own sexuality and relationships are surrounded by loved ones who may feel threatened by public consideration of intimate concerns, whether these are gay or straight, familial or romantic, fulfilling or frustrating. Secondly, the inherent unpleasantness of coming to terms with modern patriarchy makes this area very difficult to write cogently and fluently about. To put it simply, the discomfort of the writer is apt to show itself in mangled and impenetrable prose. Foucault is a case in point. For some, he illuminates confused personal ideas by connecting private feelings with currents of thought and political power struggles
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