Monthly Archives: November 2021

11/4/21

The Horrible Little Orphan

Portela presents a twisted fairytale-style story with an important message about the impacts of patriarchy and issues of gendered violence. Particularly, I noticed that the narrator uses far more derogatory and disrespectful language when describing the women in this story. This effect is emphasized by the fairytale context; we expect women to fit within a particular fantasy within this genre, but these descriptions are strikingly harsh. Through this demeaning language and critical tone, patriarchal ideology is demonstrated. The narrator, Regan, is particularly self-deprecating about her appearance, perhaps suggesting an element of internalized misogyny. However, another example of the patriarchy in action in this story is the abrupt switch in the description of Cleis from a “sweet little orphan” (pg 4) to a “horrible little orphan” (pg 5) after she accuses the millionaire of assault. This language presents a victim-blaming attitude, how could a man ever be at fault for hurting a woman? This is a patriarchal society that protects men and their aggression towards women, particularly if they have money. For example, the millionaire easily wipes away his crime of femicide with the work of his lawyers. The change in the description of Cleis from ‘sweet’ to ‘horrible’ also suggests that women’s bodies only have value if and when they are obedient and conform to the desires of men.

Traditionally, fairy tales present the man as a hero. In this story, despite the explicit femicide by the man in this story, he is still extremely desired by other women, particularly for his wealth, reflecting an element of desperation. Additionally, the way that women will demean themselves to be with a man for his wealth is potentially reflective of the desperation of Cuban’s during the Special Period. Despite Cleis warning others that Prince Charming is a ‘demented sicko’ (pg 5), Lotta still gets engaged to him, she takes the risk for the money. It seems that Portela is attempting to critique the persistence of patriarchal ideology; it is explicit, internalized, and pervasive.

11/4/21

Fairy Tales – A Symbol of What?

Portela’s short story took me by surprise, as I did not expect a fairy tale inspired story to emerge in the context of this class, but it left me wondering much about the cultural context of fairy stories. In the story, the fairy tale seems to serve a few purposes. First, it is an easy way to subvert an expectation – by priming the reader with Cinderella, the darkness and reality of the story feel much more vivid. Second, it allows the story to do something interesting with narration. Though the revelation that the narrator is a character in the story is surprising regardless of genre if done right, the fairy tale genre is unique in its rigidity for narration. In a given work of literary fiction, one can expect the narrator to do pretty much anything, but in a fairy tale, the narrator is quite narrowly expected to either be omniscient, or to be retelling the story orally from a point further in time than the tale. In Portela’s work, Regan’s narration feels jarring because a fairy tale is meant to be an act of story-telling, not something real and personal. Third, though further research is needed to verify this point, it seems that using the fairy tale alludes to a western, and perhaps Disney-specific “violent innocence”. Cinderella is something one might heavily associate with Disney and America, and though the story itself is innocent and harmless, the culture it represents can be seen to be quite violent. Using this story in such a way thus infiltrates this genre and reveals the violence within it. The story takes something supposedly innocent from an imperialistic culture, and infiltrates it with the violent reality of its own culture.

Though I’m quite confident of the relationship between the story and its genre, I find myself wondering about the ideology of fairy tales. Though associating them with Disney makes the answer easy, seeing them in their wider context makes it much more complex. The European-ness of fairy tales somehow does not feel very harmful, but rather quite whimsical, like one might see a lederhosen or a Scottish quilt. On the other hand, they can be very dark, and they hold within some very western tropes. I would be interested to learn more of how fairy tales fit into the picture of modern ideology, because I have difficulty making sense of what they now represent.

11/4/21

Looking the Other Way

Throughout Cinderella’s secret dream women are shown as unhelpful to other women, even at the beginning Cleis’ stepmother hates her for being more beautiful than her and the descriptions of other women are unkind. This shows how women enforce beauty standards on each other. When Regan sees Cleis in the garden during the party she does not attempt to help her, she just watches as the businessman tries to grab her. It seems like she doesn’t want the violence to be redirected at her, it is accepted as long as it’s happening to someone else. This is also seen when Cleis goes to her stepmother for money to leave, the stepmother doesn’t believe her and thinks that she must have brought it upon herself somehow. The story shows how often the victim is blamed for the violence and that when it is so ingrained in society it is easier to look the other way rather than acknowledge what is happening.

11/4/21

from constraints to control

A big theme within this unit on Gendered Violence seems to be the notion of “escapism.” We see this in Santos-Febres’ Broken Strands, where Yetsaida wants to  escape not only her looks (her curly hair, which she thinks is “ugly” and “limiting”) but also her hometown, to move to Miami. Likewise, Cleofilas in Cisneros’ Woman Hollering Creek wants to escape her entire life – her husband, his abuse, the town in which they settled. She does this by watching telenovelas as a form of escapism, and then by physically leaving, too. In Cinderella’s Secret Dream, Cleis also longs for an escape from her daily life under the oppression of her stepmother, as well as from the town in which she lives – her dream is to be an actor, playing the role of the “bad girl” as a way to escape the obedient, submissive role she has played in her own life thus far. In all three of these readings we encounter this longing for “something else.”

I think this reflects a longing to not only escape their circumstances, but also to exert agency over their own lives. As women, Yetsaida, Cleofilas and Cleis have been subject to the constraints placed around them by their fathers, brothers, husbands, and society at large. Yetsaida’s desire to pursue hair school in Miami, and Cleis’s pursuit of her acting career, are ways in which they can shake the yoke of suppression at the hands of their father and stepmother, respectively. For Cleofilas, fleeing her town means taking control of her situation where her father, husband and society had always exerted control. Thus, not only is this recurring theme of “escapism” reflective of a need to literally flee a situation; it represents these womens’ reclamation of agency, decision-making and control over their own lives.

11/4/21

My Body Belongs to the State

Through the excerpts of Grieving, Cristina Rivera voices the tiredness of simply existing in a state whose interests lie in the profit of your suffering (pg. 22). As Mexican citizens, our dignity, and sovereignty are robbed through violent means to enrich a few. Our path is laid out before even being born, our body will not belong to us but to the Mexican Narco-State. We do not get to dictate our safety and define our bodily autonomy. Instead, violence infiltrates both public and private spheres. There is no corner of Mexico where one can isolate from corruption and its exercise of violence. Equally, there is no corner where justice can be found (pg. 21). Furthermore, we do not hold ownership over our labour, and we are constantly robbed of self-sufficiency (pg 4-5). Thus, the State simultaneously deprives us of justice while not allowing us to access alternatives outside State structures (pg. 4). Our integrity and bodily autonomy are non-existent, and despite the different cycles of historical and political contexts, the outcome is the same: our bodies do not belong to us. The body is the most personal and only ‘guaranteed’ form of ownership that follows us until death. Yet, the Mexican Narco-State and corrupted allies have found ways in which to infringe our last resort of dignity.  

Additionally, intersecting gender identities further creates the helplessness that Rivera speaks about. The State embodies patriarchal and capitalist notions of power, which trickle down to everyday violence, with women and gender non-conforming identities being primary targets. We are defenceless to the State’s “Why Should I Care?” attitude (pg. 5). While providing the example of Señorita Signatory, Rivera says, “her organs were a question of the state” (pg. 20). Although the example is from 1939, 80 years later, the conditions in which Mexican society finds itself are the same. Our bodies and the autonomy associated with simply ‘being’ are continually violated to accommodate State interests while leaving the rest of us in an agonizing state of survival. 

11/4/21

A Lotta Violence for a Fairy Tale

In “Cinderella’s Secret Dream”, the intrusive narrator provides a unique perspective that casts both Cleis, as Cinderella, and the billionaire, as the prince, in a new light. As the narrator, Regan portrays Cleis positively, highlighting her beauty and tenacity, while constantly criticizing her mother, her sister Lotta, and even herself. Cleis, whose character is traditionally submissive⁠—mostly accepting how she is treated and only passively dreaming of a better future⁠—now actively works towards her “one-way train ticket” (2) to a new life. Likewise, the millionaire is no Prince Charming; rather, he assaults Cleis and murders Lotta⁠.

In this version of the story, the stepmother’s cruelty becomes part of the backstory and the role of the antagonist is shifted to the millionaire, yet unlike in typical fairy tales, he faces virtually no consequences. Cleis, at least, stands up for herself and is able to escape the town and begin a career elsewhere, but little attention is paid to Lotta’s suffering. Only two paragraphs are dedicated to explaining her death, which, on a whole, is brushed aside casually. In contrast to Cleis’s success, Lotta’s murder is never truly avenged (though the millionaire later dies in a helicopter accident, this is an unrelated incident and does not bring a sense of justice being served). Even more unnerving is Regan’s description of her own sister’s death, with which she holds the same attitude that she has towards her sister’s murderer.

Despite Cleis’s unconventional happy ending subverting genre expectations, the narrative ultimately stays within the confines of a society that has normalized the existence of femicides and gender-based violence. The exploration of these topics within a typically lighter genre, and the way they are integrated so as to unsettle readers without taking away from the focus of the Cinderella plot, leaves a stronger impact on the audience.

11/3/21

The Visceraless State: Physical Body and Psychological (Percepticide)

Reading Cristina Rivera Garza’s “The Visceraless State,” reminded me of the idea of percepticide related to Argentina’s Dirty War. Garza employs the metaphor of the human body, considering its complex structure, to compare it to the state of Mexico. Just like a human body, a political system can either be healthy or sick. Garza writes that “the neoliberal state has established visceraless relationships with its citizens. Relationships without hearts or bones or innards. Disemboweled relationships” (p. 22). Due to the corruption of the Mexican government, prioritizing profits over the carful protection of its citizens, it left its citizens out to dry and subject to violence by the tyrannical regime, like a body without its organs which cannot protect itself to stay alive.

This can translate into percepticide because as state violence and lack of governmental care become ubiquitous, the citizens can internalize the trauma as a normal occurrence. “It is the forgetting of the body, in both political and personal terms, that opens the door to violence. Those who are no longer human will be the ones to walk through it” (p. 25). In other words, a body without its organs is barely human, just like a loss in morality is inhumane. A careless government strips people of their humanity when violence becomes normalized, which ultimately leads to people adopting percepticide. The metaphor of body as the consequence of a corrupt government, in this case, is as much physical (death and the process of dying) as it is psychological (suffering and percepticide).

11/2/21

Why Cinderella?

When reading “Cinderella’s Secret Dream” by Ena Lucia Portela, I immediately wondered why the author specifically chose Cinderella to tell a story of domestic violence. Many fairy tales involve young women becoming swept up with successful men with higher social standing such as The Little Mermaid, Snow White, and The Princess and the Frog. Yet Portela picks Cinderella, leading me to do more research. Cinderella is a global folk tale; from Cambodia to Greece to China, numerous cultures have passed on stories that bear a close similarity to the Disney Cinderella. One of the most important aspects of Cinderella stories is the skewed power balance between the man and woman. The man is often royalty or very wealthy whereas the woman is lowly, a peasant, and being with the man is a privilege. Additionally, Cinderella stories often include jealous and mean step sisters who further subjugate the woman. Cinderella is also often motherless, which in the context of this story, is perhaps a commentary on the plight of womanhood.

In the context of “Cinderella’s Secret Dream,” Cinderella is the perfect fairytale to tell a story of domestic violence and gender inequality. Prince Charming is wealthy, powerful, and elite and therefore faces few reprocussions for his actions and violence against Lotta. He uses his wealth and his party as a method to lure women to his home and views Cleis as a sexual object. Prince Charming is representative of the ways in which social and economic privilage are leverage within the  justice system. Additionally, Lotta and Regan serve as examples of internalized sexism and the ways which society pits women against each other. The step sisters view Cleis as an obstacle and a bother. Finally, our modern conceptions of Cinderella depict her as the epitome of idealized eurocentric beauty. In the short story, Prince Charming wants Cleis because she is blonde and fair, showing how beauty standards are also couched in racism.

11/2/21

Regan: A Night Predator (“Cinderella’s Secret Dream” )

Is it obvious that “Cinderella’s Secret Dream” is a story about four women, each in pain, and each trying to cope with this pain. However, the way in which each woman is referred to reflects the perceptions of the narrator herself. Regan, the narrator, often demonstrates her opinions and thoughts with her keen observations. But since she is narrating the story, one cannot trust the accuracy of her words. For example, she portrays Cleis in a beautiful light, often praising her beauty and attributing her behaviours as virtues. Meanwhile, she compares her own family members with the worst vices and attributes. Her hatred for her family could be a projection of the hatred she feels for herself. Throughout the story, she barely refers to herself, and when she does, she often does it in a dark light. I believe she uses her family as a means to outwardly express her own self-hatred instead of directly hating herself. Her low self-esteem is softly noted by the audience when it is revealed that it was her that used the worst description to portray herself. Interestingly, Regan compares herself to an owl multiple times, however, it is important to note that owls are predators. Similarly, Regan is a predator; she uses negative mental thoughts to “harm” her family and herself. In addition, Regan is similar to an owl because owls use the dark to prey. Likewise, the reason for Regan’s hatred is because she keeps her thoughts in the dark by not letting anyone know them. Thus, not letting anyone return feedback on the correctness of her thoughts. She is only able to prey on herself and her family because it is located in the dark (a place where no one knows; her mind).

11/2/21

Now I’m the Bad Guy

Ena Lucia Portela’s “Cinderella’s Secret Dream” highlights the problematic portrayal of the evil villainess. Portela demonstrates this through Cleis’ own criticism of the heroine, “Cleis couldn’t imagine anything more boring and stupid… She longed to play the “villainess,” an evil woman who gets her kicks committing all sorts of dastardly deeds” (2). The evil woman is active, she gets to do the “committing”; in contrast, the ingenue is acted upon, and the only thing she can do is cry. However, it is precisely the agency that positions the villainess’ as evil. They become transgressive figures and must be made into a villain in order to subdue their appeal. In the classic trope, there are only two options: you can either be the sweet, ‘morally correct’ woman that is submissive, or if you want agency, it must mean you are evil and monstrous. 

However, Portela criticizes this dichotomy. In contrast to the original fairy tale, Cleis must have her own agency. She must be the one to buy her own dress, to bring herself to the party, and, most importantly, to get herself away from the party. Like her own stepmother, she must take action for herself. Perhaps also like her stepmother, she perpetrates the downfall of another woman. Just like how the old housekeeper now makes Cleis do the housework, Cleis makes Lotta take her place in the demented mansion of Price Charming. In this comparison, Lotta was truly the one without her own agency — her life is almost entirely determined by her mother. Cleis is the only one to make it out of the town and achieve her own dreams. Through the success of Cleis, Portela offers a different option from the classic dichotomy, one far more realistic and probable: we all have, and we all should, exercise our own agency, even if it makes us the villain sometimes.