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Re: MiraBai on Gender
Tsuya said Jun 7, 2006, 11:58 PM:
Okay, this may seem like a completely random association, but reading of MiraBai being refused entrance and her reply made me think of a fragment of a speech given by Newberry Award award winner Robin McKinley about Tolkien's seemingly ONLY acknowledgment of the existence of the female gender:
“Tolkien has received much criticism for his inability to portray women - or perhaps better to say his unwillingness to deal with women at all, except as tersely and tangentially as possible, and with teeth visibly clenched. When I was first reading LOTR, it never occurred to me to protest - beyond a mild wistfulness - that there were no girls in it. Even in the makeup of the Fellowship of the Ring, the Nine Walkers, so carefully chosen to represent the races of Elves, Dwarves, and Men - and one Wizard, who is also called “he” - no thought is given to, uh, female persons of each persuasion, creed, or national origin. That’s just the way the best books usually are. “But wait. In the middle of all this unmitigated male bonding there’s a surprising and highly uncharacteristic scene in The Return of the King… before the gates of Gondor, where the forces of Mordor have besieged it. The Riders of Rohan have swept down and engaged the enemy in battle, and the defenders are briefly hopeful, but the Nazgul, the Black Riders, Sauron’s deadliest servants, return, and neither horse nor man can stand against the terror of their coming. The Rohan king, Theoden, falls beneath his maddened horse, and his Riders are scattered. Or all his Riders but one: Dernhelm, the mysterious, solitary young man who befriended the hobbit Merry, remains at Theoden’s side, even when the Lord of the Nazgul threatens him. The rest of this scene is in Tolkien’s own words:
'[Dernhelm’s] sword rang as it was drawn. “Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.” “Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!” Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. “But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Eowyn I am, Eomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.”
The winged creature screamed at her, but the Ringwraith made no answer, and was silent, as if in sudden doubt. Very amazement for a moment conquered Merry’s fear. He opened his eyes and the blackness was lifted from them. There some paces from him sat the great beast, and all seemed dark about it, and above it loomed the Nazgul Lord like a shadow of despair. A little to the left facing them stood she whom he had called Dernhelm. But the helm of her secrecy had fallen from her, and her bright hair, released from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears were on her cheek. A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy’s eyes.' ”
What's interesting about this to me is that even from a writer with zero cognizance of the existence of women, much less any intrinsic worth they might bear, comes this passage acknowledging some mysterious power that comes merely from being a woman. Culturally, if not biologically, male is the default sex. Merely being a woman in a 'man's world,' therefore, confers some quality of surprise, of unexpectedness, something unforeseen, and even more so, unforeseeable. Is this reverse sexism? Or a deeper cultural archetype, as evinced by the many stories of unexpected female heroines? Is there some meaning of the veil of secrecy under which these women (from Charlotte Bronte to MuLan) succeed, only to unmask themselves? I know this is a bit of a departure, and I am also curious about why are 'all souls female before God?'
It seems like with a male deity, whatever the religion, whatever the priest caste, there are always women devotees referred to as 'brides.' Is this a pagan remnant? The fragment sass cited seemed remarkably similar both to the Inanna/Dumuzi sacred marriage ritual I've read of, and to relatively modern Christian women mystic saints. Or of course, the Song of Songs. And what was that you were saying elsewhere Metta, about all love poetry might be read as spiritual? Maybe it goes both ways…
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