Saturday, January 14, 2012

Exclamations; Finding Your Voice

I really enjoyed watching I, The Worst of All for the window it provided into Colonial Mexico and the issues of gender roles in the 17th century.  I came away from the movie in amazement of how far the world has come.

As I thought about the issues within the movie, I thought most about the societal assumptions of gender roles and the hierarchy involved there.  When considering the specific expectations men had about women in the 17th century, I thought about Gloria Anzaldu's words about languages and the assumptions that come with the spoken words.  In this case, the expectation was a lack of language.  Discouraging women from receiving an education, believing women are not capable of knowledge, and expecting that women will not speak unless spoken to all played parts in the abduction of identity.  Anzaldu clearly states that language is who you are.  Men, in forbidding education and knowledge in combination with other social norms, blocked the path to Self for women during Sor Juana's time.  I cannot imagine living in that world.  

The last scene of the movie is what has stuck with me most.  Sor Juana's face is thin, haunting.  If I remember correctly, she was holding her knees, kind of hugging herself for comfort.  What a drastically different Juana from the beginning of the movie!  
In one of the first few opening scenes we see a Juana of exclamation, of joy, of passion.  This Juana made me think of a pondering pool card: http://www.ponderingpool.com/p_pool/newcards/card39.html 
In the beginning and middle of the movie, Sor Juana had found her voice, and she was writing, reading, living, in exclamations.  
The movie's last scene reminded me of this card: http://www.ponderingpool.com/p_pool/newcards/card47.html
I believe that at the end of her life, Sor Juana was torn.  She used to know who she was, she used to have a voice, but in the end she finds that she still doesn't know who she is.  She renewed her vows to live a life of humility, but i think the last scene captures a feeling of hopelessness, of Juana yearning for her books and scrolls, for herself - her essence.  

How do we define ourselves?  I'd like to think it is not with earthly possessions, but we cannot deny the role they play in our everyday lives - in who we are.  If we were to strip away all material things, who would we be, and how would we know?  

Life is so complex that it is hard for me to think about everything that the world encompasses.  When I think about humans in the midst of it all, I think about actions, success, and mistakes.  Here is one last card I think is particularly interesting concerning people and life.  I think it articulates well our desire to wrestle with life, yet our ultimate confusion, when we consider, This Thing Called Life.  

2 comments:

  1. I understand where you are coming from when making this statement; however, I believe we need to look at Sor Juana at the end of the movie at a different angle: through the lense of the Catholic Church. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC), teaches that humility is “the foundation of prayer” (CCC, #2559), and he who humbles himself will be exalted (Lk. 18:9-14).

    Sor Juana was not humbling herself she was exalting herself and reveling in her accomplishments, the praise, and the amazement of her audience. Also, I am reminded of what Jesus said, “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me” (Mt. 16:24). Sor Juana’s goal as a nun was to surrender herself to Christ, and one of her joys was to write and to revel in her audience’s enjoyment: but like her confessor mentioned, this could lead to pride. She had to accept her cross of pride and carry it, but she at first refused to do so.

    At the end of the film, we see a lonely Sor Juana but a humbler one. I am reminded of her loneliness and have likened it to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane (Lk. 22), or Jesus hanging on the Cross (Lk. 23). In his loneliness he asked why his Father abandoned him… but he didn’t. In Jesus’ agony, we see Sor Juana’s pain but we realize we are called to sacrifice what we love in order to love Christ all the more who is Savior and God.

    Sor Juana’s transformation is one of beauty and wonder, and if I may say so, in a way resembles Jesus carrying his Cross; it almost seems as if Sor Juana was carrying hers in that she was trying to isolate her pride.

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  2. Mandy, I appreciate your heartfelt response here. You capture the way that the movie draws its viewers to engage complex, multi-layered, unanswerable questions about the meaning of life and identity. You make a good connection between texts when you invoke Gloria Anzaldua's words about the importance of language to identity. This highlights Sor Juana's dilemma when all of her books are taken away and she know longer knows who she is. She was a privileged woman, in many ways, with the largest library in Mexico, and her ability to write and study was protected by church structures--until she was enticed to go too far with her words and was censured. Perhaps her final, difficult period was one of spiritual growth and learning for her, but it seems so unfair that way it happened. Zacahry's comparison to Christ's suffering here is powerful.

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