Post-Colonialism/Gender/Sex (I use books as metaphors a lot, have you noticed?)

Whilst we were having our discussion this week about sex, sexuality, gender and the roles that those things designate within a culture, I kept thinking of Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe and The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. More specifically, I kept thinking about the discussions we had about them in my 11th grade English class.  (Isn't it irritating that almost everything I do now can be related to a different phase in my life?)
When my English teacher introduced the ideas of a post colonial lens to the class, he brought up the idea that reading books from previously "colonialized" places helped  you to understand their point of view.

 But then he brought up the converse of that point-how can you be "free" when you're using the tools of your oppressors to express yourself?

This same idea was one that I had broached upon when discussing gender roles in The House on Mango Street.  The protagonist starts acting more like a boy in order to gain control in her extremely patriarchal household.  This idea frustrated me-if she had to act less like her gender, was she escaping the patriarchal system or enforcing it?

Which then creates a nice segway into Ragtime.  If Evelyn Nesbit has to use her sexual appeal to gain power, is she really doing that, or is she just helping her own victimization?  (I firmly believe that Evelyn is a victim-a silly, beautiful fool in the style of Daisy Buchannan).  How do you beat the system by working from within it?  Is it not better to work outside the system, a la Emma Goldman or Coalhouse?  Are revolutions not fought in order to foster the creation of a new system?  I.e. The American Revolution overthrowing a monarchy and creating a democracy? In the latter cases, their subversion of the system ultimately spells out their own undoing, but I feel like they're the more transcendent of the characters.

This is part of the reason that I think the end of chapter eight with "THAT SCENE" is so important. Yeah, it's probably one of the most awkward things I've ever read in the history of my life as a reader (about sixteen years)-and hopefully one of the last...Every person I've brought the book up to says "Isn't that the book with the guy in the closet who..." and then they trail off, embarrassed. Despite the unpleasantness, the scene demonstrates perhaps the one time that Evelyn is in control of something, her sexuality, without a male gaze (that she knows of).  Even then though, she only gains that control through Emma, so is it really her control again?  

The whole scene just reeks of tragedy (and awkward euphemisms). The one time Evelyn comes into an iota of control, Mother's Younger Brother suddenly...um...appears... um...and covers her in capitalism.

There's no real escape from the oppression when you're using it to your advantage.  You're still enforcing that system.  Even if Evelyn has taken controtl for that moment, she's lost it for all the others.  That may not necessarily be Doctorow's point, but I'm reminded of how Authorial intent is so often overshadowed by the reader's interpretation.  I feel like Evelyn is a victim of circumstance, like Daisy, like Okonkwo, like Esperanza.  They may recognize the system, but their attempted subversion just turns into a reinforcement.