[In the following essay, Detwiler underscores the role of cultural difference as it pertains to gender oppression in The Day of the Swallows.]

Estela Portillo-Trambley is most noted for her two dramas, The Day of the Swallows and Sor Juana, and is also praised for her collection of short stories and plays entitled Rain of Scorpions and Other Writings. Born in El Paso, Texas, the writer has expressed on one occasion that “I think I have the feel, the earth-roots, the historical consciousness of a Mejicana, enough to re-create the authentic experience” (Vowell 59). While her Chicanaism is clearly reflected by these words, Portillo-Trambley's identification with feminism appears somewhat ambiguous on another occasion: “Algunas reseñas de Rain of Scorpions dicen que yo soy feminista, cosa que yo no había visto; pero cuando miro toda mi obra, bueno, qué te parece, sí lo soy” (Bruce-Novoa 37-38). Portillo-Trambley did not begin to devote herself to writing until later in life when she realized that she “had to do something besides raise children and teach school” (Vowell 59). The Day of the Swallows, the first published work of this self-proclaimed novice, was in fact submitted by a college friend and served to establish Portillo-Trambley as a writer (Vowell 60).

Following the traditional three-act structure, The Day of the Swallows is replete with symbolism and possesses a mystical quality that sets the tone throughout the play. Alfonso Rodríguez has analyzed the work in terms of its tragic vision and concluded that it is a “modern tragedy” with relevance in the incorporation of contemporary issues such as “women's liberation, suicide, and homosexuality” (157). The play focuses upon the secret life of the protagonist Josefa, a highly respected member of the Chicano community of San Lorenzo. She is praised by the townspeople for her charitable deeds, caring spirit, and personal quest to combat local oppressive elements. True to her reputation, Josefa has rescued a young girl, Alysea, from a seedy town establishment and taken the youth into her home. Josefa also cares for another disadvantaged child, David. Unbeknownst to the townspeople or David, Josefa and Alysea carry on a clandestine lesbian relationship. One evening, however, David happens to surprise them as they are making love. Josefa cruelly proceeds to cut out his tongue and then rushes him to the hospital with false stories of an intruder. Tormented by the horror of this act and having fallen in love with a young Native American named Eduardo, Alysea leaves Josefa. Full of despair, Josefa confesses her secrets to Father Prado. In the final scene, the reader/spectator learns that Josefa has drowned herself in the lake of San Lorenzo. Later that day, the town virgins were to have bathed themselves in this lake as part of a local ritual to secure their future prospects for marriage. Josefa had been chosen to lead the ceremony.

Within this primary conflict, a secondary conflict emerges that concerns Josefa's friend Clara. Wife of the hacienda owner, Don Esquinas, Clara has had a brief affair with Eduardo. Clara longs for love and it pains her to see that Eduardo and Alysea will soon be married. Furthermore, Clara is well aware that her spouse enjoys other women at will. She is hoping to find love in family but is unable to have children, and her husband refuses to adopt a child that would not be of “Esquinas blood.” Clara turns to alcohol as her sole source of comfort. While Josefa proves a dear companion, she only serves to aggravate Clara's condition by providing her with alcohol. Later, Clara has a breakdown and is taken away to the sanitarium by her husband.

Much of the critical inquiry to date concerning The Day of the Swallows focuses upon questions of oppression and liberation of women, mythical or biblical symbolism, and, as noted above, notions of tragedy.¹ Concerning Josefa's lesbianism, Tomás Vallejos asserts that she “is driven to lesbianism by a male-dominated society” (1980, 55), while Rodríguez suggests that a childhood experience with some cruel-minded boys who tortured swallows somehow transformed her “to regard the opposite sex as the incarnation of evil on earth” (1980, 156). These analyses seem to presuppose a critical bias against homosexuality as an undesirable trait that is acquired in the face of conflict or trauma; perhaps somewhat akin to alcoholism, for example. Janice Dewey, however, sees in Josefa's sexuality a sense of rebellion and challenge, a “refusal to accept allegiance to man as her ultimate responsibility and fulfillment” (1989, 43). This interpretation presupposes the radical feminist notion of the patriarchy. The patriarchy has been defined as “the system which elevates men to positions of power through the notion of the pater or father, placing men in an economic and social executive position within the family unit, the market place, and the state” (Case 1988, 64). As such, the patriarchy serves not only to oppress women, but also to created a “male culture” (64).

These investigations have apparently failed to take into account the question of cultural difference as it pertains to the issue of gender oppression. The question of cultural difference clearly surfaces in The Day of the Swallows. The community of San Lorenzo represents an essentially repressed, yet very real, combination of distinct cultural heritages. These heritages can be identified, namely, as the indigenous culture of the “New World” and the Spanish culture of the “Old World.” Within the context of the drama, the cosmologies of these cultures at times clash and at other times become mixed. The indigenous cosmology portrayed in the drama suggests the pantheistic nature of animism, while the Spanish (European) cosmology is associated with the monotheism of Roman Catholicism. According to Webster's New World Dictionary (1988), animism is, in the simplest of terms, “the belief that all natural phenomena have souls independent of their physical being.” Additionally, the “souls of individual creatures … [are] capable of continued existence after the death or destruction of the body” (Tylor 1953, 48). The conflict between these two cosmologies surfaces in the affinity for the natural world of the followers of animism on the one hand, and the classic rejection of the mundane (or natural) world of the believers in Roman Catholicism on the other. Additionally, the belief in “Earth as Mother” of many indigenous cosmologies contrasts with the belief in “God the Father” of the Christian cosmology. While Roman Catholicism does venerate the Virgin Mary, she is not worshipped as a creator of the cosmos.

Thus, this reading hopes to combine the question of gender oppression and the notion of difference between the distinct cosmologies of the two cultural heritages. I intend to demonstrate how the character of Josefa represents, if you will, a nexus between animism and Roman Catholicism. She taps into the collective consciousness of her indigenous heritage in the midst of the prevailing patriarchal consciousness of the Roman Catholic legacy within her community. In this way, Josefa identifies with an animistic symbol system while she rejects the patriarchal symbols of Roman Catholicism. Through her affinity for certain symbols, Josefa seems to call forth an ancient era wherein fertility goddesses were worshipped over “patriarchal deities.”² Therefore, Josefa's identification with her indigenous heritage serves as a liberating force within the oppression of a patriarchal Roman Catholic reality not only through the appropriation of the “Earth Mother” cosmology, but also through the opportunity to evoke an archaic past that sanctifies her gender. In contrast to Josefa, Clara is bound by her Spanish heritage. As will be touched upon below, Clara is one of the “conquerors.” As such, she represents a kind of spiritual foe to Josefa. Thus, Josefa facilitates her destruction, because Clara's heritage has served not only to oppress their gender, but also has worked to subjugate an entire culture.

Within this proposed paradigm, the textual evidence in support of Josefa's identification with her indigenous heritage and concomitant animistic cosmology is most apparent in her worship of the natural cosmos of her “magicians,” in her encounter with Eduardo in act 1, in her relationship with Father Prado, and in her rebirth in the form of light at the play's end. The reawakening of an archaic matriarchal past occurs as she chooses to worship and communicate with numerous female-centered fertility symbols. Josefa's lesbianism represents not only her rejection of the mandates of Roman Catholicism, but also further illustrates her bond with the ancient symbols that sanctify her gender. The clandestine nature of this lesbian relationship, Josefa's mutilation of David, and her suicide demonstrate her understanding of the power of the patriarchy to punish those who refuse to conform. When the threat of this punishment is imminent, Josefa chooses to offer herself to her goddesses through a ritual drowning. However, she approaches her death euphorically, because she knows that her spirit will return as light. Although not the primary focus of this study, the complex relationship between her suicide and the patriarchy will be discussed below.

The lyrical paragraphs introducing the dramatic text make numerous references to the two cultural heritages. Describing the life of the village, the author tells us that “the tempo of life, unbroken, conditioned, flavors its heartbeat with dreams and myths. The hacienda is the fiber upon which existence hangs. The church, the fluid rose, assures the future promise of the Elysium fields. No one dares ask for life” (5).³ This description illustrates that, while the tempo of life in the community timed by the rhythm of the indigenous heartbeat remains as it has always been, it is now conditioned by the presence of the hacienda and the church. In order to liven an existence that promises a beautiful life only in the hereafter, the members of the community look toward their dreams and myths in order to find beauty in the here and now. The church, as a fluid rose, solely offers intangible beauty. It is not capable of being touched or “picked” to enjoy in a worldly fashion. No one dares to ask for life, because the church can only promise conditional life after death. Life, for the indigenous heartbeat, is found in the spirits of the natural world: “By the lake, eyes burn and feet dig the mud of the spring; someone traces mountain against sky and gulf expands drowning, drowning. … Perhaps secretly each villager senses the werewolf moon inside him” (5).

A more overt reference to the invasion by the Spaniard is made in the introductory text where the reader learns that the Esquinas Family had settled upon fifty thousand acres of land, forcing the Native Americans into the desert. This appropriation of land and displacement of its inhabitants was incomprehensible to the indigenous people. “This was the way of the bearded gachupín. … Their greedy vitality was a wonder to the Indian. It was also death” (6). By robbing the people of their land, the Spaniard not only stole their very livelihood, but the invaders also violated their sacred natural cosmos. It is to this historical violation that Clara finds herself inextricably bound.

However, one line of the text strongly intimates that the indigenous world view did not die but rather lived on, as this reading suggests, in the collective consciousness of the people: “The conquered conquered the conquerors” (6). This sense of survival is especially apparent not only in Josefa and Eduardo, but also in the community's Catholic priest, Father Prado. While their relationship will be examined shortly, it is important to note here that his name is a significant sign. Translated into English, his name is Father Meadow. According to Peirce's Icon/Index/Symbol Trichotomy (Berger 1984, 12), Father Meadow is a double sign. He is both an icon for the Catholic religion and a symbol of the continued presence of an animistic consciousness. This notion is further confirmed with the dramatic text during Alysea's conversation with Eduardo. When Eduardo tells Alysea that his God is among nature, Alysea responds: “Father Prado understands your God too. … I told him about not attending Mass because we go exploring … to find the tallest pines … I told him about your God … he smiled and told me I had found a holier temple” (15).

The mixture of heritages is also emphasized within the text in the introduction of Josefa. She is described as “a tall regal woman about thirty-five. Her bones are Indian's; her coloring is Aryan” (8). However, everything about Josefa indicates her identification with the indigenous, rather than European cosmology. She tells Eduardo that “I am Indian you know … yet not of desert, not of them, in a way. Yet … totally theirs” (17). Within an animistic cosmology, the desert would perhaps signify the presence of death. It is a spirit that robs, rather than nourishes life. While she understands the significance of the “desert spirit” within this cosmology, Josefa also associates the life-taking force of the desert with men. She tells Alysea that “men don't love … they take” (27). Rejecting the predominant patriarchal force of her community, she makes certain that it does not form a part of her world. The desert is significant from the perspective of both cosmologies. Gazing around her room, she declares: “There is no desert here … only light” (11). Thus she creates a counter, albeit gender-traditional, “women's culture” within her home (Case 1988, 64). Josefa's sitting room is “an unusually beautiful room, thoroughly feminine and in good taste; the profusion of lace everywhere gives the room a safe, homey look. … Upstage left is a large French window; from it one can view a large tree. On the tree is a freshly painted tree house of unusual size and shape. It is an orb that accommodates a great number of birds. The room faces south, so it is flooded with light” (6). Eduardo describes it as a “women's room,” “a dream of gentleness … peace; it is not a man's room” (14). Her home is characterized as a secure respite from the exterior, male-dominated society.

Additionally, it serves as a sanctuary that welcomes nature to coexist within it and within her. Her “magicians” are the spirits of the natural world of her animistic cosmology. Specifically, Josefa reveres the moon, the lake, the swallows, the stars, and light. As she worships them, they instill in her sexual passion, life, freedom, sisterhood, and rebirth, respectively. Her recollection of the moment when she discovered her “magicians” is a beautiful passage worth reproducing here:

The wonder was my magicians. That night at the lake there was a different music … the stillness sung inside me … the moonlight grew in me … it became my lover. … There by the lake, I felt the light finding its way among the pines … to me. … It took me … then … perhaps it was my imagination … it said to me … “We are one … make your beauty … make your truth.” Deep, I felt a burning spiral … it roared in my ears … my heart. … It was too much to bear … so I ran. … then I opened my eyes and found myself calmly looking up at the stars … sisters of my love! The moon followed me; it lay a lake around me, on the grass.

(21)

It is at this moment that Josefa truly taps into her indigenous consciousness and evokes a sense of being among ancient fertility goddesses. Feeling the souls and fullness of the moon beckons her to freely enjoy and experience the passion of her sexuality (Case 1988, 73) as she becomes its lover. She is “of the lake,” with “the soaring sea in her” (19). Josefa worships the forces of life inherent in the symbolic sustenance of water. The special relationship between women, the bearers of life, and nature is identified in “nature's solstices, women's menstrual cycles, the cycles of the moon, and the cycle of life and death” (Case 72). Thus, in her communication with these fertility goddesses, Josefa finds in them power and life for herself and all women. She rejects “God the Father” and embraces “Earth as Mother.” Josefa tells Eduardo that “when I chose the moonlight in any season … it was defiance” (20). She defies the imposition of a dead patriarchal cosmology upon her living and breathing matriarchal universe. With the spirits of nature surrounding her in the realm of the here and now, Josefa scorns the Catholic notion of living one's life in order to obtain the grace of God in the hereafter. She “dares [to] ask for life” (5). Like the swallows, Josefa soars with nature over the desert toward an ancient universe wherein her gender can experience a sacred status. “The long flight … how tired they will be; how thirsty after the desert … here my swallows will find peace … home” (11). The swallows are a symbol of all women who have long endured the oppression of the patriarchy and yearn for liberation.

Josefa's encounter with Eduardo in act 1 has not been closely examined by current scholarly investigation. It is a significant moment that illustrates how Eduardo and Josefa form a brief and passionate bond. This instance appears problematic at first glance, because Josefa's lesbianism would indicate that she is not sexually attracted to men. However, their passion arises not from physical but spiritual attraction. They both find beauty and excitement in nature and share a common view of the cosmos. Eduardo, a Native American, whose God is among nature, is enchanted with Josefa's being, because he recognizes her spiritual connection with the natural environment. Because her identification with this environment has served to empower Josefa in the manner described earlier, Eduardo also notes her strength. A member of the privileged male gender, Eduardo associates this strength with danger, although he does not necessarily feel threatened by it:

JOSEFA:
Do you think me beautiful?
EDUARDO:
Yes … very … mixed in with a dangerous excitement …
JOSEFA:
You are making love to me …
EDUARDO:
I make love to all things beautiful … don't you?
JOSEFA:
(in a whisper) Yes … oh, yes. …

(20)

Eduardo makes love to her spiritually in this moment, as their shared passion for the natural world functions as a far greater force than corporeal attraction. They are both children of their heritage, and this creates an electric bond between them during this encounter. Thus, I must disagree with Rodríguez's assertion that Josefa's “private mythology … is not shared by anybody else” and that her “values … are completely alien to her social milieu” (1980, 154). Josefa is a much more complex figure than the flat lesbian character suggested by his remarks. I would also contest Dewey's analysis that “all male characters in the play, save the priest, are presented unidimensionally” (1989, 44). Surely there is more to the meaning of Eduardo's character than his gender.

Rodríguez also notes that Josefa “disdains men, yet she holds Father Prado in high esteem, and confides in him” (154). Attributing this fact solely to the “tensions and ambiguities” of Josefa (154), Rodríguez fails to acknowledge the question of cultural heritage. As established in the beginning of the discussion, Father Prado is a double sign of the two heritages. Like Josefa, he recognizes a “holier temple” in nature, but he does not worship it. His is the temple built to “God the Father” of Roman Catholicism. However, it seems that he, like Eduardo, is enchanted with Josefa as a spiritual extension of the natural cosmos. Perhaps their distinct cosmologies are tangential in their shared belief in a locus amoenus. Father Prado's meadow is in the heavenly realm in Paradise. Josefa's meadow permanently surrounds her.

Although Father Prado also praises and loves Josefa for the deeds she performs for the church and within the community, he discovers that she is not a true follower of his religion. When he tells Josefa, “There is so much God in you!”, she responds by declaring “God in me? … no, Father … no. … It was not faith, it was the light of my magicians … I bear the children of light! I am its high priestess” (44). This dialogue makes direct reference to Josefa's distinct animistic cosmology.

Her rebirth as light at the close of the play is a manifestation of the animistic belief in the continued existence of souls or spirits of all living things after the death of the body. Josefa approaches her impending suicide in an almost euphoric state because she knows that she will continue to live on within her natural world. She is merely offering herself more completely to her goddesses, her “magicians.” “My magicians will let me come back as light … yes, yes!” (45). At the play's close, the text describes that “the almost unearthly light streaming through the windows gives the essence of a presence in the room … of something beautiful” (47). Josefa has returned.

Has Josefa conquered or in any way subverted the patriarchy through her act of suicide? This important question is difficult and is perhaps best answered by briefly exploring two of the more obvious perspectives among many. First, it is clear that the patriarchy remains intact after Josefa's death. She is a sacrificial lamb to appease the patriarchal system. Try as she did to subvert the patriarchy through her creation of a female culture, Josefa did not fundamentally change its mighty structure. From this perspective, then, Josefa's suicide represents her victimization by a system that would never accept her. Refusing to submit and knowing that her defiance only meant destruction, she escapes through death. The coercive force to conform and the power to punish that are emblematic of the patriarchy as it pertains to her are both elements too great with which to contend.

Second, Josefa's suicide may also be interpreted as an extension of her ongoing acts of subversion concerning the patriarchy. By refusing to submit to its norms, Josefa demonstrates her strength of character and firm resolve. As the ultimate subversive deed, her suicide indicates that Josefa will not back down; even when it means sacrificing her own life in support of her beliefs. In this way, Josefa is not a victim, because her suicide is both her decision and her personal act of defiance. And in light of her animistic and female-centered belief system, Josefa's suicide is not in any way perceived by her as tragic. She does not lament or fear the act. She will live on among her goddesses. Josefa sheds the physical and joins the spiritual. Although many would contend that it is because of the patriarchy that Josefa is driven to suicide, the final outcome must be emphasized. Josefa has deliberately created a more perfect union with what she considers to be divine. Thus, while this brief glimpse into the question of Josefa's suicide suggests a plurality of meaning, the undeniable absence of dread on Josefa's part toward her suicide favors the latter interpretation.

In conclusion, this discussion combines the issue of gender oppression with the question of cultural heritage. Scholarly papers to date have failed to recognize the strong evidence in the text concerning the idea of cultural difference. Due to the relationship between culture and socially constructed notions of gender, the idea of cultural difference must certainly play an important role when examining gender issues. Hence, this reading illustrates that the community of San Lorenzo is characterized as a blend of indigenous and Spanish heritages. Although the patriarchal cosmology of Roman Catholicism dominates the community, the animistic cosmological vision of the indigenous people is shown to live on in certain characters. In the case of Josefa, her identification with her indigenous heritage is the means by which she is able to call forth and interact with matriarchal spiritual forces that sanctify her gender. Through the worship of fertility goddesses, i.e., life-giving symbols, Josefa creates a universe that offers her those things that the life-taking patriarchal cosmology surrounding her within the community lacks: sexual passion, life, freedom, sisterhood, and rebirth. The issue of Josefa's suicide in relation to the patriarchy is explored on two fronts. Given that the patriarchy has in no way been fundamentally altered by her suicide and remains in place after her death, it is shown that Josefa is a victim of this system. Suicide is her escape. Conversely, however, her suicide is also shown to be a continuation of her subversive actions against the patriarchy. The result of her act within this view has been emphasized. As the means to her desired end, Josefa's suicide results in the creation of a more perfect union with what she believes to be divine.

Thus, Josefa's identification with her cultural heritage is described as a liberating element at work within the drama. The persistence of the collective animistic consciousness of the indigenous peoples has served to “conquer the conquerors” by subverting the religious imposition of Catholicism. Also, Josefa's female-centered animism functions as a gender-sanctifying response to the patriarchal legacy inherent in this cosmology.

Notes

1. See Ramírez, Vargas, Vallejos, Dewey, and Rodríguez.

2. Millet (1971, 51, note 63): “Wherever one stands in the long anthropologists' quarrel over patriarchal versus matriarchal theories of social origins, one can trace a demotion of fertility goddesses and their replacement by patriarchal deities at a certain period throughout ancient culture.”

3. Estela Portillo, The Day of the Swallows, El grito 7.1 (1973): 5-47. All subsequent quotations from this play are cited by page number in the body of the text.

Works Cited

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