There has been much in the news over the last week about “women’s power,” particularly in the political sense. It’s a natural outgrowth of last weekend’s “Women’s March,” one of the largest instances in history of women together, worldwide, to demand that their voices be heard.
I was not among them.
Part of it was a matter of resources, time and money both. Part of it is that my health no longer permits me to travel, still less to march, and even less to stand for hours in one place.
But part of it was also the sure and certain knowledge that women like me would never be accepted, respected, welcome in any genuine sense. The reports of the experiences of indigenous women who did attend only bear out that conviction.
To be clear: For me, it’s not a question of being affirmatively “welcomed”; I learned decades ago that my presence as a woman, as a person of mixed race, of color meant that I would be unwelcome in countless contexts. I show up anyway. But it does get tiring, and never more so that when one is treated like an object to be appropriated, fetishized, commodified and consumed, and then erased and tossed aside when one proves to be an individual human being, one with ideas and principles and notions of personal sovereignty and autonomy. And the insulting behavior of mainstream march participants toward the indigenous women present was, sadly, all too predictable.
In our cultures, gender roles are often understood very differently from the way the dominant culture perceives them. They may seem clearly, sometimes even rigidly defined, and to outsiders they often no doubt seem out of date — representative of the very dynamics against which the march was staged.
It’s not that simple.
Our gender roles were often grounded in both general biology and an efficient division of labor, but many of our cultures were also societies that rejected gender binaries completely, understanding that both identity and orientation exist along a spectrum of possibilities, some of which coincide or overlap with others. And social roles often reflected that.
Things have changed, of course, in the centuries since the epic waves of colonial invasion first began. Force leaves its mark, and that is as true of the brute force of invader dynamics, including religious oppression and coercive assimilation, as anything else. Even so, each of our cultures has its own understanding of women’s identity, of women’s power — and of the wisdom to be found in it.
It’s an understanding reflected in the feminine imagery and iconography of indigenous art, and especially so in its creation by Native woman artists, where it represents a deeply personal manifestation of culture. Such is the case with today’s featured works, a pair that, while not matched, are certainly complementary. They’re also a pair that I saved expressly for this week because of what they represent.
This month, we’ve used this space to explore, in some depth, the traditional spirit cups (or mugs, or bowls) created by Jessie Marcus. Jessie’s medium in the Pueblo’s traditional micaceous clay, and her repertoire includes a wide variety of shapes and sizes and styles of pottery. But she is best known for her small spirit cups, each sized to the human hand and ach inhabited by its own particular spirit.
We’ve looked at some of those spirits here in recent weeks: Buffalo Dancers, male elders, even an animal spirit in the form of the horse. But today, the spirits featured are decidedly feminine.
Each of these represents traditional conceptualizations of women, and of the deeper spiritual and practical symbolism associated with female spirits. Such symbolism is not, of course, confined to our own cultures; you’ll see analogues, with some variation, in cultures the world over. But in this context, and manifest in this particular form, they assume a specific identity indigenous to this place.
The first displays the fundamental symbolic connection between woman and Earth, with an image of the mountain etched into the body of cup itself. From its description in the Other Artists: Pottery gallery here on the site:
Grandmother emerges from within this traditional mug as though from within the mountain etched on its front. Made of traditional micaceous clay by Jessie Marcus (Taos Pueblo), the mug is hand-coiled, the side merging into the woman’s blanket, wrapped around her figure arising from one edge. An image of the old village, sacred peaks in the background, is incised on the exterior. Mug stands 3.75″ high on the figurative side (dimensions approximate).
Micaceous clay
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
The second is one that invokes another distinctly feminine spirit: the corn. We call them the Three Sisters, corn, beans, and squash — indigenous plants that have sustained our peoples since time immemorial, and that have become integral elements of culture in other ways. The Corn Maidens play a significant role in the cosmologies and lifeways of Pueblo peoples, as does the plant itself. With this work, Jessie has paired a female human spirit with the female spirit of the corn, with a supple young stalk etched into the front of the piece. From its description:
Grandmother sings to the corn plants as she works, her head and voice rising from the side of this old-style handle-less mug. Brought forth from the body of this hand-coiled micaceous mug by Jessie Marcus (Taos Pueblo), she wears her hair tied back in the traditional bun, bangs on her forehead. The corn plants she nurtures are incised into the mug’s front. Stands 3.75″ high on figurative side (dimensions approximate).
Micaceous clay
$125 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Our peoples have always known that we can find wisdom for dark times within the natural world. The corn feeds us, body and spirit, even as it teaches us. So, too, does the earth impart lessons we need to learn.
And sometimes, the world would do well to learn them from the perspective of indigenous women. It’s wisdom for the generations.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2017; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
