Sor Juana's writing refuses any male attempt to 'know' woman, which is to say it both refuses male appropriation, and refuses the status of passive object of knowledge. If there is one fundamental concern of Sor Juana's work, it is:
THE WILL TO KNOWLEDGE
THE DESIRE TO BE THE SUBJECT OF KNOWLEDGE (as opposed to mere object)
TO BE SHE WHO KNOWS (as opposed to she who is known).
In order to illustrate this, we should look at our first example, Poem
48 "Respondiendo a un caballero del Perú". This is a
devastatingly ironic reply to an unidentified gentleman from Perú
who had sent her some small clay vessels, telling her she should change
her sex and become a man if she wished to be a poet. These are the first
two stanzas:
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Señor: para responderos |
If Sor Juana feigns awe only in order to mount a strong critique, she
also sets up a discourse of indifference as a strategy of
resistance to the either/or injunction of the gender system invoked by
the anonymous gentleman (either you are a woman or
you are a poet, and therefore need to be a man). Let's look at two examples
of this in-difference from Poem 48.
The first is relatively straightforward, and is an extension of the strategy
above of feigning speechlessness but in fact refusing to reply on his terms:
Mas si es querer alabaros
tan reservado imposible que in vuestra pluma nomás puede parecer factible, ¿de qué me sirve emprenderlo, de qué intentarlo me sirve, haviendo plumas que en agua sus escarmientos escriben? Dejo ya vuestros elogios
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Yet if, for singing your praise
no power on earth will do if your feather-pen alone is worthy to celebrate you, why should I make the attempt, why throw to the winds all caution, especially when feathers are known to have written their lessons in water! So I'll leave it up to your praise
Translated by Alan Trueblood
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With devastating irony, she uses the rhetoric of praise to deflate his false compliment, arguing that his work is of such excellence that only he could possibly appreciate it.
Yet even more interesting than this resistance through indifference is
the question of sexual difference in the poem. She now turns her attentions
to his central piece of advice, i.e., that she should turn herself into
a man. This is her reply:
Y en el consejo
que dais,
yo os prometo recibirle y hacerme fuerza, aunque juzgo que no hay fuerzas que entarquinen: porque acá Sálmacis falta en cuyos cristales dicen que hay no sé qué virtud de dar alientos varoniles. Yo no entiendo de esas cosas; sólo sé que aquí me vine porque, si es que soy mujer, ninguno lo verifique. Y también sé que, en latín, sólo a las casadas dicen úxor, o mujer, y que es común de dos lo virgen. Con que a mí no es bien mirado que como a mujer me miren, pues no soy mujer que a alguno de mujer pueda servirle; y sólo sé que mi cuerpo, sin que a uno u otro se incline, es neutro, o abstracto, cuanto sólo el alma deposite. |
entarquinen: turn me into a Tarquin (legendary rapist of Lucrecia) Sálmacis: river that changed the sex of Hermaphroditus (from male to hermaphrodite -- Sor Juana adapts the story to her own ends, implying there is no magic river she can just dip into in order to turn into a man) Yo no entiendo: Sor Juana feigns ignorance or lack of knowledge, strongly contrasted with sólo sé and también sé a few lines further down aquí me vine: i.e., to the Convent, where she should no longer be considered a sexual being in the eyes of men es común de dos lo virgen: Sor Juana plays on the gender of words to make her point -- in Latin, there is a neuter gender as well as masculine and feminine, so she uses the neuter "lo" in Spanish to imply that she is neither male nor female but neutral no es bien mirado: literally, "it is not the done thing", but there is a play on the gendered nature of the gaze here sin que a uno u otro se incline: "without inclining to one gender or the other" (i.e., masculine or feminine) cuanto sólo el alma deposite: "insofar as the body is merely the vessel for the soul/intellect" (which Sor Juana claims is genderless) |
The images of Tarquin the legendary rapist, violator of Lucrecia, and the river of Sálmacis, the waters that changed the sex of Hermaphroditus from male to bisexual, clearly indicate the violence which she sees underlying the demand for her to assume a sexually differentiated position: the suggestion of the Peruvian gentleman is now exposed as a kind of sexual violence, tantamount to a metaphorical rape. To the violence and violation underlying the imposition of strict sexual roles in society, Sor Juana opposes sexual indifference, claiming that she should not be judged in terms of those sexual roles, that her body as harbour of the intellect, should be considered neutral and abstract, and that it is this neutrality, this means of escape from the tyranny of sexual duality, which the Convent has provided her with. Note how advanced Sor Juana's thinking is in her linking of gender and language: the clever play on the gender of words in Latin makes the point that gender is as much a socio-linguistic category (a question of imposed social expectations and conventions) as anything innate. In this poem, she is claiming that "woman" is, literally, a man-made, conventional category. The path she has chosen is that of the intellect, sheltered within the neutral space of the Convent, not bound to the sexual tyranny of the either/or.