Each symbol also has a sexual significance. The living goddess is revered for her virgin status which is protected, worshiped, elevated. Once she reaches puberty and is ready for sexual activity and human reproduction, then someth ing is los t : innocence , beauty, childhood. And the veiled women? Was the color black consciously chosen to indicate the evil within? In totally obliterating their shapes with billows of cloth, is the intention to prevent others from seeing their feminine form? To deny their sexual nature? To prevent the women themCandidates are placed in a dark room, surrounded by the severed heads from sacrificial animals and subjected to frightening noises. The girl who neither cries nor protests is recognized as the true goddess. selves from fee ling proud of the ir b o d ie s— in e f fe c t , to make them ashamed? If viewed as symbols, the virgin goddess and the veiled women embody a number of traditional views of women held throughout the ages in many different cultures. The living goddess represents woman as child—sweet, innocent and unknowing; also woman as the divine—pure, beautiful, elevated, and aweinspiring. The veiled figures represent woman as evil and seductive, initiator of sin; woman as follower, helpless and lower than men; and, in the extreme, woman as property, like cows and potatoes. We should not disparage these views completely. Can we deny the pleasure, for example, of occasionally being taken care of (rather than being the provider of care), the fun of playing the seductress, or the exhilaration of dressing the divine? The danger inherent in these views of women is not in seeing each as a potential part of the feminine character; the danger lies in seeing any one of these stereotypes as the totality of a woman. The over-arching view of woman as child led to laws preventing her from owning property or voting, to assuming that she must perpetually be taken care of, to considering her incapable of making rational decisions. The view of woman as child is used to justify inhumane practices such as spouse abuse. If a wife won’t do as told, it’s her fault if she is beaten. She must be taught a lesson; she’s a misbehaving child. The traditional view of woman as divine sounds more attractive than the others, initially. But this stereotype has its own dark side. It’s hard to forgive a goddess her transgressions. It’s also hard to extend to her permission to be human. In this view, women are the keepers of morality while the men, who are only human, must be forgiven for "their sexual transgressions. There are men who dote on th e i r wom en , s e e in g w ives and daughters as good and pure and sweet, until one of them express an interest in sexuality or an enjoyment of it. Suddenly she becomes the fallen angel, ugly, evil and sinful. A man who sees woman as divine is likely not be one who believes she, too, should experience success in a career or orgasm during lovemaking. Thinking of woman as seductress is as old as Eve and as new as a recent newspaper article which reported a rape, then concluded with a warning to women from a Malaysian lawman not to go out in public unless “ appropriately” attired. According to this view, it’s a woman’s fault if she’s raped. If a man is a philanderer, it’s because his wife is “ not an understanding wife,” or it’s the fault of the “othqr woman.” Either way, the man is off scot- free. This view of woman as seductress leads to other inhumane practices, such as the sexual abuse of young girls as well as the mutilation of female genitals— clitorectomy, the so-called female circumcision—a custom spreading with the worldwide growth of some fundamentalist groups. Woman as Victim When examining these stereotypical notions of femininity there is a temptation to see woman as victim and to place blame elsewhere—on society, on religion, on men. But therein also lies danger. In fact, the stereotype of woman as victim may be the most insidious of all the traditional views. It traps women within unfortunate, sometimes lethal, circumstances; it contributes to the belief, on her part and the part of others, that she is helpless, incapable of effecting change, dependent on her discreditors, incapable of leaving a bad situation. Viewing a woman essentially as victim is disrespectful; it robs her of integrity. Each of us plays a part in whatever scenario we inhabit. The veiled women get up each morning and pull those black shrouds over their own bodies. To be sure, their religion tells them they must do so; their husbands, fathers and peers tell them they must comply. To see them entirely as victims leaves out their part in the interplay of human wills and human activity. They, too, play a part in perpetuating the stereotype of woman as property, woman as subservient companion to man. But what about the child, the virgin goddess? Surely she is a victim? Perhaps. Even here, the answer is not so clear. The Nepalese tradition itself offers a clue, however. Each girl who is chosen as the Kumari remains the virgin goddess until her blood flows—until menstruation begins or until she sheds blood from some other cause. Any other cause—a scrape, a scratch, a cut. So there are other options even for the imprisoned virgin goddess, options which bear a cost, but options nonetheless. Nothing is that simple, of course. Though prison walls impose confinement, they provide protection and solace as well. Not only that, in order to extricate oneself from a stereotyped role, one must first be aware of the inequalities inherent in the situation, and then, of course, one must also be aware of the ability to change. The child has grown up accepting the concept of the virgin goddess; she may not yet feel the sting of its restrictions, not on a conscious level. Or she may accept them as the proper order of things in her universe. There is so much of which we are unaware. A group of Oklahoma women argued fervently against the Equal Rights Amendment in their state legislature. Were they so much a product of their male-dominated culture that they were unaware of the inequalities inherent in a patriarchal system, were they fearful of losing the security which is a real and welcome aspect of dependency, or both? A most important factor in the child remaining in the tower and in the subservient behavior of the women in black is the knowledge, the bone-deep universal In order to extricate oneself from a stereotyped role, one must first be aware of the inequalities inherent in the situation, and then, of course, one must also be aware of the ability to change. knowledge, that change is painful. Extricating oneself from a stereotype is painful. Sometimes, in fact, the price is simply too high. I counseled with a woman whose husband had repeatedly beaten her. Each time she left him, he followed, found her and beat her again. Finally, after enduring a six-hour beating (during which she had passed out several times and was convinced that, this time, she would die) she got the gun away from him and shot him point blank, his splattered body falling on hers, his blood pooling with hers. All this while their two-year-old daughter looked on. Two years after the incident, this woman is still unable to sleep, to work, to care for her traumatized child. She relives the incident, she has nightmares, she suffers panic attacks, she has uncontrollable bouts of sobbing. She feels the price of freedom from the role of victim was far too high. On the other hand, she also knows the price of remaining the victim would have been her life, and perhaps her child’s as well. Woman as Individual Victimization, as ugly as it is, may not be the ultimate of indignities women face, however. Looking at the title of this article, I see a clear example of my having fallen into a pattern of response to women that is as equally destructive as viewing womanhood from the traditional stereotype of goddess, seductress or victim—that of objectifying persons, robbing them of their individual humanity, turning them into objects. Objectification happens not just to women, of course. It is only by viewing certain people as “ the enemy” that what would ordinarily be called murder can be called war. And it is the viewing of people as things that has promulgated slavery, child'labor, prostitution. Marilyn Monroe suffered this kind of objectification. It is said she lamented the fact that no one ever loved her for herself alone. They loved the stereotype she represented, the beautiful and desirous sex goddess. This objectification, which she played no little part in promoting, left her isolated and lonely; she escaped the goddess in what may have been the only way she knew how—through self destruction. Ironically enough, she destroyed Mar- ilyn-the-person, the self who longed for individual recognition, while Marilyn-the- goddess lives on. In using the terms, “ the virgin goddess” and “ the black potatoes,” I, too have destroyed individuality. I have relegated living, breathing human beings to the position of things. The glimpse I caught in that high window, though in appearance very much a goddess, was in fact a highly costumed child who has a name. Perhaps hers is a traditional Nepalese name like Deva. And certainly Deva has a personal story to tell to anyone who will hear. Perhaps she cried herself to sleep at night from the loneliness of being shut away from friends and siblings. She may have a charming singing voice, or talent as a seamstress, or trouble getting along with her father. And she has a future ahead of her; some say former Kumaris have difficulty finding a marriage partner since young men are intimidated by her earlier symbolic status. Likely though, she'll marry, have children, and grandchildren someday. In any event, Deva’s future will surely be as filled with pleasure and pain, struggle and release, love and rage as your life and mine. The women in black have names, too. Perhaps the irs are common Malay names such as Amina, Latifah, Laily, Rohana and Siti. Each has her own story, filled with sound and fury, like all human stories. Perhaps Amina has only recently married and is feeling proud of her new status and her new home. It may be that Siti has recently given birth to a stillborn child and is still grieving the loss. And possibly Latifah has only just come “ into the fold” of this religious group and is now feeling accepted and loved more than ever before. Whatever their stories, each, like all human stories, must be filled with joy and sorrow, pride and shame, passion and ennui. Each of these, then, the child and the women in black, are making choices that must be, for the moment, the best choices they know how to make. We cannot know more. We can only do our best to recognize them and their individuality, to acknowledge their struggle and their pain. And we can salute them as women living in this world, in this moment, like all women and all men, with sincerity, integrity, and grace. Writer Linda Craven lives in Selangor, Malaysia and Canyon, Texas. Her book, Stepfamilies, was published by Simon and Schuster (1982). This is her first story in CSQ. Artist Marly Stone lives in Portland. Two shows of her recent photo/art are scheduled for fall openings in Los Angeles. 16 Clinton St. Quarterly—Summer, 1988
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