No Man's Woman

The portrayal of women through the stories we are reading continues to baffle me. Honestly, we may as well be discussing another mythical creature. I suppose the fact that most published writers of the Renaissance were male contributes to the mysticism surrounding the "other" sex, but the whole thing is most amusing. I have said before that the tone of the writing from this time often seems almost intimidated by women, and though this may be only wishful thinking or residual sexism on my part, I think it is worth looking into.

Thursday's discussion of The Duchess of Malfi focused on astrology and Renaissance ideas of women. Normally I would not categorize those two together, but putting them side by side got me thinking about possible links. For instance, the zodiac is broken up according to cycles of the moon, a cycle to which many women maintain a physical connection. I have always found that fascinating, but is it possible that some may have found this tie to a virtually unknown outer world disturbing? There is a sort of power in it. Alternately, many animals have a greater sense than humans of the movement of the earth - seasons, direction, and such things - so perhaps it could be argued that there is something of the animal in a woman's bodily awareness.

Speaking of animals, I was also struck by the idea of the hyena as hermaphrodite, used to insult the Duchess. A hermaphrodite embodies both the male and female reproductive organs, which, depending on context, may make it an oversexed monster or a sexless divinity. In the case of the Duchess, of course, it is monstrous. But if man is superior to woman, as was the general consensus, wouldn't the best woman be the woman most like a man? This seems to be a contradiction.

In fact, the Duchess is not a hermaphrodite at all. She is no Elizabeth. She is a wife and a mother as well as a ruler. She lies, she contradicts herself in the space of a scene, and she goes through all the gritty reality of pregnancy and childbirth. She is not a saint, and she is not a man's woman. The curious thing about the Duchess is that she manages to fulfill many of the negative characteristics (besides passiveness) ascribed to women of the time, while still gaining our empathy and respect. A truly hermaphroditic woman is generally considered a strong character, but I feel that a woman who must make herself a man to be noticed only conforms to a man's world. The Duchess does no such thing. She is woman to the core, and proud of it.

Is this a fearful thing? I wonder if there is a little awe in Webster's writing. Even as he seems to deface women with graphic images of vomit and bloated stomachs, his honesty towards a real woman, and not an idealized image, lends its own sort of glory to the sex. Perhaps that is why the Duchess is never given a name. She is "other," she is "something else," but she is a little too real for comfort. She must not be made too personal.

I muse only, and perhaps we all read what we want to read. But I'm terribly fond of this woman. I really am.