Women and the Gift: Beyond the Given and All-Giving

Introduction

Morny Joy

Gift is a word with many different resonances—of celebration, of appreciation and thanks, of farewell, of sharing, of reward, even of compensation. Yet it can also have less positive connotations of indebtedness as an obligation to reciprocate in kind, or in excess. There are also warnings about the duplicitous motives of certain people bearing gifts—the Greeks with the Trojan horse come to mind. Finally there is Pandora, so aptly named, perhaps the prototype for women’s ambivalent relation to the gift—at once bountiful yet potentially malevolent. In the latter half of the twentieth century, however, the association of women with the gift has been the focus of a number of studies by male thinkers, such as Jacques Derrida ([1978] 1979, [1991] 1992b) and Georges Bataille ([1957] 1987, 1985). In their writings women were portrayed as emblematic of a mode of excess. Their idealized evocations of women and the feminine also promoted a notion of giving without any expectation of return.¹ Such depictions, however, had nothing to do with women themselves, as women were not consulted about being represented in this manner. It is intriguing to surmise the motives for this development. It could be interpreted as a protest against the exploitation of women, or perhaps as a rebuttal of bourgeois complacency, or maybe even as a rejection of obsessive late capitalism. Such extravagant gestures, however, were also in the French tradition of elaborate commentary on the classic book of Marcel Mauss, The Gift ([1924] 1990).

Mauss’s work, however, did not concern itself with women, except for a few minor references. It was written from ethnological, sociological, and historical perspectives, exploring variations on the theme of the gift so as to appreciate its aesthetic, moral, religious, and economic motivations (Mauss [1924] 1990, 107). His reflections ranged from commentary on studies of the indigenous peoples of North America, Oceania, and Australia written by earlier ethnographers to historical examination of Roman and Germanic legal systems. It was Claude Lévi-Strauss, a former student of Mauss, who proposed in The Elementary Structures of Kinship ([1949] 1969) that women, as gifts given in marriage, constituted the gift par excellence, thus establishing the foundation for premonetary exchange systems. His suggestion was certainly controversial—today as much for its colonialist views as for its provocative assumptions about women. This legacy underlies and inevitably influences much contemporary discussion about women and the gift. Undoubtedly Mauss’s and Lévi-Strauss’s proclamations about the gift do provide a provocation to revisit their data, as well as to try and extricate any further deliberations on this topic from their own Eurocentric preoccupations.

Recent studies, such as The Potlatch Papers, by Christopher Bracken (1997), have been extremely helpful in indicating some of Mauss’s and Lévi-Strauss’s more dubious colonialist claims. Bracken also points to a contradiction inherent in locating their project at the limits of western thought as it encounters the other.² He demonstrates that these limits are actually protective boundaries that indeed impede the possibilities for learning anything from other peoples. Bracken describes how the gift is symptomatic of the implicit prejudices of western thought and language in attempts to define other peoples in relation to its presumed self-image. His discussions of the potlatch ceremony and western efforts to contain and define the perceived profligate waste involved—both literally and legally—are telling. Bracken’s analyses of the writings of Gilbert Sproat, a nineteenth-century government agent; of the anthropologist Franz Boas; and even of Derrida’s more recent commentary on Mauss actually expose these writers’ inability to discern and express the potlatch’s meaning, as it will forever exceed their grasp (Bracken 1997, 48–49, 153–62). Yet such appropriations of indigenous peoples’ traditions still continue to service western desires and designs, be they neocolonial, ethnological, or deconstructive.

So why write a book on women and the gift today? Where does it belong, if not in the history of such deceptive and compromised enterprises? It is only too apparent that there can no longer be any appeal today to women to provide a figure of infinite generosity, although there are still contemporary writers, such as Genevieve Vaughan (1997, 2007), who believe they can. Nor can one presume in this age of über-commodification, of continued exploitation by neocolonial interests in a globalized world,³ to introduce a theory exempt from any complicity—of either an intellectual or a material nature.

The first response to such challenges would be to note that although such thinkers as Hélène Cixous in Sorties (Cixous 1986), Luce Irigaray ([1977] 1985, [1987] 1993), Marilyn Strathern (1988), and Annette Weiner (1976) have passionately written on aspects of the gift and its relation to women, there has not been a comprehensive collection that appraises women’s own interventions both on the gift itself and on the pronouncements made by the men. Of itself, however, such a rationale alone is not persuasive. So, while the stated intention of the volume is to provide a forum for present-day women scholars to reflect on the nature of the gift, its aspirations are more ambitious. The hope is that the book will appeal to readers of many backgrounds who want to understand how women are defining their roles and making considered responses to the challenges of contemporary existence. These challenges include relationships of care, fidelity, generosity, and trust, such as the gift often evokes. The list of topics discussed is not exhaustive, but it does represent the most prominent ideas and ideals that have been advanced recently. The crucial question is whether in this alleged postmodern, postcolonial, postfeminist, and postsecular age, these issues can engage the hearts and intellects of like-minded women.

In earlier commentaries, especially those on the work of Marcel Mauss and Claude Lévi-Strauss, the gift was employed to ascribe certain roles for women, as well as to designate attributes considered appropriate for a docile and amenable female character. Then the writings of Derrida and Bataille introduced a new model of femininity—where women’s extravagant generosity subverted former constraints. These pronouncements were declared by male scholars in the absence of women themselves and without regard for their own input. It is time to undertake a thorough evaluation of all such artificial constructs. To reflect on women and the gift today is to conduct a careful, if not rigorous, examination in light of all that has been learned by women from many years of feminist interrogation. What recommendations can be distilled from the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears that have been expended in the past forty years as women have struggled to achieve integrity and recognition? These have not been easy years, and it is necessary to remain constantly on alert against ongoing forays such as the backlash in the name of postfeminism. Nevertheless, a goodly measure of wisdom and insight has been acquired. The essays in this book attest to this wisdom as women honestly and attentively strive to discern ways of flourishing in relationships—with one another, with men, with other sentient beings in the cosmos—in ways that celebrate life. The gift thus serves as an indicator that can help to conceive of relations that are affirmative and non-exploitative, where there is trust, respect, and reciprocity. Above all, the writings in this book attest to a need for tolerance and openness. Such recommendations help to foster an orientation that would recognize differences and allow them to exist in a non-coercive space that does not stipulate any exclusionary sex-specific or gender-appropriate requisites for admittance.

Some essays in this volume speak to new inclusions, while others draw attention to continued exclusions. The gift has indeed had a checkered history. It is crucial to be aware that, as formerly, it can be specious in its intentions and detrimental in its effects. Ever mindful of such deviations, it is also important to acknowledge that the gift, in the form of testimonials to past violations and omissions, can foster reconciliation.

A PERSONAL ITINERARY

My own attraction to this topic was prompted by a conference on the gift in which I participated, organized by Professor Constantin Boundas at Trent University in 1996.⁴ At that conference, where most attendees were philosophers, only a few papers mentioned women and the gift, although efforts had been made to include this topic. Similarly, in the resulting publication of seventeen articles in an issue of the journal Angelaki (2001), there was little analysis.⁵ Alan Schrift, a conference participant, also subsequently edited a volume, The Logic of the Gift (1997), in which he acknowledged the importance of the question of gender and the gift by including excerpts from the published work of Hélène Cixous and Luce Irigaray.⁶ Their ideas stimulated me to investigate this phenomenon further.

Over the intervening years I invited a number of women colleagues to offer their reflections on this relationship of women to the gift. The response was overwhelming. This present volume is the first of two. It is mainly theoretical in nature: it principally addresses philosophical ideas about women and the gift. The second volume, which will be published in the near future, is more concrete in its approach. It comprises a survey of different varieties of gifts—both material and figurative, many of them unacknowledged or deliberately overlooked—that have been contributed by women to various religions of the world.

The first volume, however, is not overtly religious, but ranges over a number of disciplines, eliciting responses from women as they evaluate certain presumptions concerning the ways women stand in relation to the gift. Often such presumptions are not particularly affirmative. Even when they do seem initially positive, on further reflection they tend to define women in ways that regard their qualities as subsidiary, or as lacking in the more robust attributes that characterize masculinity. Such implications of inferiority did not start with Mauss’s book—in fact he rarely mentions women—or with the work of his commentators. Insofar as both philosophy and religion are concerned, women’s role as the lesser vehicle, with reference to both her mind and her body, has been amply described in western literature from the time of the Greeks.⁷ The first chapter in this volume, by Deborah Lyons, succinctly articulates the position that women, and the gifts they have provided since the time of Pandora, have been held in highest suspicion.

A BRIEF HISTORICAL OVERVIEW

This attitude of suspicion, however, is not the only negative value ascribed to women. In the western tradition, there is ample evidence that, from the era of the early church fathers, women were deemed subordinate. Their bodies were suspect, and their minds, specifically their reasoning abilities, were regarded as deficient. Church fathers such as Augustine and Jerome (fifth century ce) associated sexuality with sin and women as temptation incarnate.⁸ Aquinas later adapted Aristotle’s rather bizarre biological designations of male and female characteristics as proof of women’s lack.⁹ Certain types of penitential practices were recommended to curb these wayward tendencies, but basically there was a belief in the early church that women could attain sainthood only by forsaking their deviant feminine form and taking on aspects of a virile masculinity. This view was extant in later centuries, though it was not universal.

In an article on Carolingian hagiography of women, Julia M. H. Smith provides a description of the conventions that informed this tradition:

Patristic writers adapted to their own purposes a classical vocabulary which identified right moral action with masculinity and deemed moral weakness a characteristic of women. . . . Manly action manifested the strength and virtue necessary to pursue the ascetic life. . . . Jerome and others elaborated the theme of femina virilis or virago, the manly woman, whose ascetic prowess transcended her gender. (Smith 1995, 18)

Yet these recommendations of a needed asceticism and control of women took another anomalous direction. Women, who were expected to be subservient to men in all things, could find an earthly form of redemption in their role as a mother. Both early and late medieval hagiographies exhorted women—those who did not enter nunneries—to follow the example of Mary, the mother of Jesus, who was depicted as living an exemplary life of humility, purity, and sacrifice. Mary’s boundless love for her son and excessive suffering at his death was proposed as a model of the sacrificial love that women should imitate to fulfill their maternal mandate. At the same time, Mary’s virginal status was incongruously extolled as constituting the model of chastity to which women should aspire.¹⁰ These idealized projections of maternity were not especially practical for the average woman, either then or now, as it deprived her of access to any form of independent activity. Such restrictions virtually dictated that the better part of women’s endowments, or gifts, were to be exercised in the service of men and their families. As such, it amounted to a mode of giving as self-sacrifice.

Although there have been exceptions, this version of women as all-giving, encouraging self-abnegation, has sustained many of the world’s religions over the centuries. From the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries, however, women did begin to experiment in ways that challenged these formulas, as Erica Longfellow has illustrated in her writing on early modern England (2004).¹¹ Remnants of the social attitudes and the cultural structures that have enforced these restrictive measures, however, can still be found today in fundamentalist forms of both eastern and western religions. This is only too evident in their concerted opposition to women’s access to both birth control and abortion counseling.¹²

Another predominant feature of women’s role in relation to the gift is that of being given away, i.e., the given. This feature is graphically described by Lévi-Strauss in The Elementary Structures of Kinship ([1949] 1969).¹³ Lévi-Strauss’s designation of women as the pawns in whatever matrimonial arrangements are determined by the men of the tribe, in the name of incest prohibition, does not allow women any basis of agency. Yet the work of Annette Weiner, in her study of Trobriand Island women, demonstrates that in this society, women certainly could, and did, wield power in ways that refute Lévi-Strauss’s facile generalization.¹⁴ It does need to be noted, unfortunately, that, in certain contemporary religions, such arrangements continue. Many women have little or no say in their being traded or given away in marriage, functioning simply as tokens in agreements that confirm patriarchal and/or tribal allegiances.

Both of the above stereotypes—of women as all-giving or given—may seem somewhat arcane to many young women in the present-day secularized west, where Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues (1998) has been performed worldwide to appreciative audiences.¹⁵ This has occurred at the same time that second-wave feminists are both worried and critical of the behavior of young women in western countries, citing both raunch culture and the cult of the perfect or ideal body. The first of these concerns, that of raunch culture, indicates a number of young women’s practices—from going to male strip clubs, to attending bare-it-all gatherings occurring under the salubrious title of Girls Gone Wild,¹⁶ to imitating role models such as Britney Spears and Miley Cyrus—all of which are justified by the rhetoric of individual choice and self-empowerment. Natasha Walter has addressed these issues in her book Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism (2010). As she observes ruefully: The rise of hypersexual culture is not proof that we have reached full equality; rather it has reflected and exaggerated the deeper imbalances of power in our society (8). She later elaborates on the detrimental effects that this shift has on women: By co-opting the language of choice and empowerment, this culture creates smoke and mirrors that prevent many people from seeing just how limiting such so-called choices can be (39). In many cases of self-expression, as described by Walter (2010, 28–35), the existence of free choice would appear to be conspicuously absent.

The second and related form of worrisome behavior is connected to extreme dieting and constant critical self-appraisal, resulting in low self-esteem for young women and even girls. Many young women have a negative relation to their bodies, finding them wanting according to highly artificial constructs of the body beautiful. Such images are relentlessly promoted by all forms of media. These two examples may seem somewhat removed from the topic of the gift, but my reasons for introducing them at this juncture have to do with the form of co-optation of women and girls that is involved in the two cases. For what is patently apparent behind both the contemporary slogans, as well as the simplifications coded by the given and the allgiving, is a stark fact. This is that women’s emotions and energies are being both contained and directed by a system that is basically controlled by men. Contemporary young women and their bodies are being packaged, or commodified, to fit the needs of a consumer market that caters to the desires of men. It is indeed troubling that women, whether as gifts or as goods, have not yet escaped from insidious bonds that can dictate their destiny.

From this perspective, it is then quite fascinating to review the present-day literature on women and the gift, particularly that written by men. The major problem with such work—be it concerned with either theoretical or practical matters, or even when it’s idealistic in its exhortations—is that, by excluding the voices of women, it presumes to speak for them. It raises a significant question: In what way are such recommendations any different from the decrees of religious or authority figures that continue to dictate the terms of a woman’s life? Keeping these reflections and questions in mind, I will give a brief survey of certain recent works, by men as well as women, before introducing the essays in this volume. The intent is not to dismiss such thinkers peremptorily, but to try and understand how such ideas and ideals arose and still continue to be circulated and considered as appropriate. In undertaking this exercise, my own approach, informed by a hermeneutics of suspicion, in the manner of Paul Ricoeur, seeks to uncover not just conscious, but unconscious motivations.¹⁷ It will also seek to discern whatever lingering romantic conventions or misogynistic attitudes endure behind the rationalizations and idealizations that align women with an expansive orientation of gift-giving.

CONTEMPORARY EXPLORATIONS

Many contemporary thinkers who have engaged with Marcel Mauss’s seminal work The Gift ([1924] 1990) have taken issue with his findings and/ or with the interpretations of commentators of more recent vintage. Among the many fascinating titles presently in circulation are The Enigma of the Gift, by Maurice Godelier ([1996] 1999); The World of the Gift, by Jacques T. Godbout ([1992] 1998); The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property, by Lewis Hyde (1983); The Gift: An Interdisciplinary Perspective, edited by Aafke E. Komter (1996); The Question of the Gift: Essays across the Disciplines, edited by Mark Osteen (2002); The Logic of the Gift, by Alan Schrift (1997); and The Work of the Gift, by Scott Cutler Shershow (2005). All attempt to revisit Mauss’s deliberations on the gift and rework his ideas so as to render them accessible to a contemporary audience. Perhaps, however, the most illuminating exploration of the gift in recent years has been Marcel Hénaff’s The Price of Truth ([2002] 2010). Hénaff’s subtle and penetrating reading of Mauss, and also of later respondents to Mauss, makes many routine remarks, such as There is no such thing as a free gift¹⁸ or any gift that has an expectation of a return, is not a gift,¹⁹ appear somewhat simplistic, if not trite. For what Hénaff has endeavored to portray is the complex and multifaceted dimensions that inform Mauss’s analysis, at the same time as he refines and expands certain of Mauss’s somewhat limited observations.

Probably the most dramatic clarification that Hénaff makes is that gift-giving, as described by Mauss, is not a preliminary form of contemporary market exchange. It is sufficient unto itself as a ceremonial mode of sumptuary gift-giving, undertaken first to establish alliances and then to initiate further exchanges that cement this relationship. What is at stake is reciprocal recognition, rather than commercial trade, which would involve exchange of goods with economic value. As Hénaff further explains: The good offered is not considered something to be consumed but is presented as a mark of respect, as an expression of the desire to honour the existence and status of the other, and finally as testimony to an alliance (Hénaff [2002] 2010, 153). In this sense the gift is at once incommensurable and priceless. As Hénaff then observes: There is no gift economy (153). This is a brilliant insight that rebuts the earlier elaborations of many thinkers. It also clarifies Mauss’s own equivocations (Mauss [1924] 1990, 100–108), as well as certain statements of his commentators who have idealized the gift as involving an archaic and less avaricious mode of economy, in contrast to present-day business dealings.

Hénaff also realizes that something of major importance is occurring with marriage: Matrimonial alliance is the highest and most decisive form of the relationship of recognition between groups that reciprocal ceremonial gift exchange constitutes (Hénaff [2002] 2010, 143). To appreciate the full import of this gesture, it is necessary to explore certain of Hénaff’s other careful qualifications of Mauss’s depiction of gift-giving as a total social fact (Mauss 1990, 16). Hénaff qualifies Mauss’s claim by insisting that this form of gift-giving is not totalizing in any absolute sense. Instead, for Hénaff, [i]t is a total social fact because it involves the entire society and society as a whole (even if it does not constitute everything in this society): it is not a marginal or private phenomenon but an institutional one (Hénaff 2010, 153). Yet, as Hénaff further clarifies, such exchanges do not amount to a total social phenomenon because they do no more than create or preserve bonds between local groups or persons (154).

Another, more exalted element is nevertheless involved. This element, however, needs amplification in order to grasp what Mauss’s enigmatic references to other relations might signify. In this connection Hénaff further refines Mauss’s explanation of total as encompassing more than a merely mortal realm. He states: Ceremonial gift exchange would not be total if it were not cosmic (2010, 129). This cosmic affiliation evokes an even grander scale within which gift-giving also takes place: Besides the system of reciprocal exchanges between humans, a different system is constituted that involves humans in their relationship to deities (150). This relationship to deities, to which Mauss also alludes, but which he does not develop in great detail (Mauss 1990, 20–22), has certain symbolic ties that distinguish it from the more mundane reciprocal human interactions connected to the gift. As Hénaff explains:

Whereas the former system, symmetrical and horizontal, ensures social life in the present and only concerns relationships between humans, the latter, asymmetrical relationships and vertical, seems designed to confront the permanence of the community through time . . . [E]ven beyond this permanence, what is at stake is establishing a bond with the deities to which the group owes its existence and identity and on which its fate depends. (2010, 150)

There is not the space to pursue this crucial connection with deities at length, but central to the process, as Mauss also perceived, are specific precious items associated with the gods. These items, which Mauss named sacra, guarantee the identity and continuity of a particular society or group. But, as Hénaff himself acknowledges, it was the anthropologist Annette Weiner who first labeled such goods inalienable (Weiner 1976, 149). They constitute the symbolic bedrock of a group, and they do not circulate. Such sacred objects represent not just allegiance to the gods, but a recognition that humanity’s very existence derives from these beings, as does their integrity and survival as a people. Hénaff recognizes that this divine relationship encompasses the whole of the cosmic realm: Furthermore, the alliance to which the precious goods kept within the group are a testament expresses this requirement: reciprocity must bond together not only humans and gods or humans with each other but all living beings, every element, and the totality of the world: this is the first gift (2010, 152).

Such a panorama of the interweaving strands of gods and humans with all living things delineates a cosmic design that is complex in its demands and inexhaustible in its possible combinations. As Hénaff discerns, there is a mode of reciprocity that is integral to this special relationship. Often it takes the form of rituals of gift exchange, even sacrifice.²⁰ Hénaff’s account, then, does not reduce the world to a finely calibrated structural system of checks and balances, as does Lévi-Strauss’s, but he appreciates that from the beginning, people have honored the gift of life, which is incalculable. Hénaff captures the wonder and extraordinary reach of this originary gift. The anthropology of gift exchange offers a different interpretation: spirits and deities are conceived of and named as the addressors of this inaugural, constant, and infinite gift of which humans know that they are the addressees (2010, 151).

It is within this cosmic framework that the full significance of marriage is realized. To support this, Hénaff states: Because the wives are essential to the group’s existence, the group’s very being is at stake in the recognition ensured by matrimonial alliance (2010, 143). But although Hénaff recognizes the importance of Weiner’s work on inalienable goods (1992), he misses a golden opportunity when he does not engage further with Weiner’s profound insights about women. And this is, unfortunately, the major omission in Hénaff’s work. He could have used Weiner’s findings to help him incorporate the roles of women as active partners and even power brokers in the exchange of gifts at both the material and the symbolic levels. Annette Weiner has demonstrated that women are just as capable as men of being full participants in procedures of gift-giving. They are agents in a process which confirms their own symbolic worth in both the horizontal and the vertical dimensions of gift exchange. Weiner describes the way in which marriage provides the context in which a woman can display, manipulate, and channel the power of Trobriand womanness. As Weiner observes:

The power of Trobriand women, from a cultural view, is not merely a fact of biology. Rather, the value of womanness is identified through the cultural symbols of her wealth—skirts and bundles which serve to objectify this transformation. The value of womanness, not women, is what men gain at marriage, and this value is now exploited in a positive sense by women themselves on every level. (1976, 230)

It needs to be acknowledged, however, that the Trobriand society that informed Weiner’s portrayal of women both as actors and as having access to negotiations of power was a matrilineal society. As such, it accorded women a high status (Weiner 1976, 225, 228). Women partake in activities that establish their symbolic worth, where they both negotiate respect and have their integrity affirmed. This takes place on two planes. Weiner’s depiction of the intricate maneuvers involved in these activities does acknowledge women as serious players in horizontal gift exchange, while a higher symbolic level also pervades these material transactions.²¹ Weiner elaborates on the significance for both men and women:

One must understand the power structure in which Trobriand women operate in order to understand how Trobriand men perceive themselves. Nature exists in order to be shaped and transformed to serve one’s purposes. All manner of human resources and energy is turned to this effort. The basic premise on which this effort is sustained is the regeneration of human beings. The symbolic qualities of exchange objects mirror the preoccupation with the developmental cycle of life and death. Stone axe blades (male wealth), skirts and bundles (female wealth), and yams (the composite of male and female wealth) constitute the basic artifacts of Trobriand exchange, and each object symbolically represents some measure of regeneration. (1976, 231)

She then concludes that in these multifaceted arrangements Trobriand women participate on both social and cosmic planes (231). Her further remarks to the effect that, in Trobriand society, the female domain, the regenesis of human life, is accorded primary value (234) attest to the fact that women are specifically revered for their intimate connection with birth and life within a regenerative cosmic framework. Thus: Perpetuation of life or human survival is given far more transcendental significance than is the kind of immortality found in objects or in ‘cultural’ survival. Therefore women, innately tied to the continuity of life, remain the locus for the means by which human survival transcends itself (234).²²

Women are specifically honored for this revered power of cosmic connection. Yet it would seem that while Weiner did discern and communicate, for the first time, the symbolic status of such womanness, she did not detect the actual process of recognition that Hénaff understands to be taking place. This is possibly because at the time Weiner wrote, the current scholarship on recognition was not available.²³ But there could be other reasons. It is apparent that Hénaff does not seem to accord women the same powerful and respected status that Weiner does. This raises pertinent questions about the implications of Hénaff’s work for women in the course of recognition that he so ably defines. For Henaff’s conclusions would seem to point in the direction that, when women are married in ceremonial exchanges, they need not be regarded simply as commodities. But though Hénaff acknowledges that [m]atrimonial alliance is the highest and most decisive form of the relationship of recognition between groups that reciprocal ceremonial gift exchange constitutes (2010, 143), he does not analyze women’s role in the ceremony. He also does not state, as does Weiner, that women themselves are active participants in marriage, bringing their own worth and integrity to the agreement. In Hénaff’s portrayal, women could thus still function as pawns, as they do in Lévi-Strauss. This is because Hénaff does not mention the symbolic status and special cosmic connection that Weiner so powerfully ascribes to women. It could well be that Hénaff is not willing to concede that women are sufficiently qualified to be a part of a process of recognition, and that such proceedings are reserved for men. Hénaff’s silence on these issues is puzzling, as he is not unaware of Weiner’s work. It raises the issue of not only Hénaff’s, but also male scholars’ lack of acknowledgment of women’s work, let alone gifts—in