Cervantes’ La Galatea against prefabricated identities and gender roles
All our identity is under attack.
I’m Giorgia, I’m a woman, I’m a mother .
Long time ago, when I expressed my wish to become a literature major, my father—a wise man—issued the following warning:
You should be aware that you will encounter more than a few 'productive' individuals, entrepreneurs, and businesspeople who, in a disdainful and mocking tone, will inquire: Philosophy? Literature? And what's the use of that? Your response should be: to avoid uttering foolishness like the one you're suggesting.
So far, his advice has served as a deflective tool to leave the mocker mocked, rather than engaging in a convoluted debate with people unwilling to discuss the role of the humanities in contemporary societies. Years have passed since then—years that brought a bachelor's degree, a master's degree, a PhD, university teaching, and the cherished memory of my understanding father, whose steps I endeavor to follow. Currently, I am involved in a postdoctoral research project under the European Commission's Horizon Europe initiative, focusing on Spanish pastoral novels from the 16th and 17th centuries. I ponder: is this an academic exercise in evasion? In simpler terms, what can a work like Miguel de Cervantes' La Galatea teach us today?
During a rally of the far-right Spanish political party, Vox, the current president of the Italian government, Giorgia Meloni, declared: "Our entire identity is under attack, but we won't allow it. I am Giorgia, I am a woman, I am a mother, I am Italian, I am a Christian. They cannot take this away from me; they will not take it away." Simultaneously, supporters of Francisco Franco (Vox's backers) applauded enthusiastically and proudly stood with their heads held high and their goatees basking in the sunlight.
Source: YouTube Vox España
This perspective is merely a reflection of long-held traditions. Let's break it down step by step. The concept of identity-woman-mother, typically assuming heterosexuality and a Christian marriage, has shaped a single predetermined path throughout our social history—a path that has been seen as the only way. Think of the archetypal "they got married and lived happily ever after," which has defined the fate and purpose of female characters in classic Disney movies. These stories have ingrained preconceived gender roles in generations. Who can forget Cinderella's journey, where she overcomes adversity to find her charming prince? Or Ariel's determination to become human against all odds to be with her man? The narratives set by these fairytales persist as people grow up, and cultural products continue to reinforce these same patterns, whether it's Disney movies, soap operas, or romantic comedies, depending on the cultural context. From Cinderella to Ugly Betty or Pretty Woman, these stories keep portraying similar themes.
It's important to note that there's a distinction between the narratives associated with each gender. Princesses and romantic comedies are primarily targeted at female audiences, while adventures and stories of business success are typically designed for male audiences. On one hand, the neoliberal myth has crafted discourses and stories for adult males emphasizing effort leading to success, masking structural social inequalities. On the other hand, it has perpetuated a model of success and social advancement for adult women centered around the idea of "being good" and "finding a good match." This focus often sidelines the historical struggles and achievements of women in various professional fields. Over time, the identity of woman-married-mother has evolved into more than just one possibility among many or one facet among others; it's become an identity—a fixed essence that supposedly remains unchanged across centuries.
Spanish Golden Age pastoral novels follow a similar plot structure, offering us a lens of estrangement to view familiar narratives. This genre often portrays a theme that "birds of a feather flock together," where the best of one species pairs with the best of another, and a "happy ending" is found in this union. Even if it's a coincidence, this narrative pattern can be seen in modern works like "High School Musical," indicating the survival of the same ideological molds.
One common character in these Golden Age fictions is the "bella ingrata," a woman who appears unloving or has forgotten her beloved. This character serves as a starting point, introducing a sense of "cosmic disorder" that needs resolution. In the typical happy endings of this literary genre, “the bella ingrata” eventually experiences reciprocated love after enduring the suffering caused by her initial indifference. However, this resolution is just one of many possible outcomes for male characters. They, too, may find happiness by moving beyond the love that caused them pain. What is considered a valid destination for male characters is often only an initial condition for female characters, as they are expected to conform to "poetic justice."
In this context, La Galatea by Cervantes emerges as a subversive work that challenges established paradigms of its time and our own. In this novel, Cervantes creates the character Gelasia, a woman without love. Unlike her predecessors, Gelasia's story doesn't conclude with her becoming the partner of one of her suitors. Instead, she consistently rejects their advances (even though they are all handsome and marvelous, akin to charming princes) with a resounding "no," declaring, "I was born free, and I am determined to remain free." (DQ 1. 6: 19). Moreover, Cervantes introduces the character Lenio, a male counterpart to Gelasia, who falls in love with her. Here, there are two birds, but they don't "flock together." This departure from the worn-out formula showcases a woman's freedom to shape her own destiny.
With these characters, Cervantes overturns the stereotypical gender roles and accepted endings for each gender. He does so by juxtaposing freedom with gender and genre identities. Both the identity that shapes the rigid formula of a literary genre and the identity that molds gender roles, perpetuated for centuries, fade in the face of the concept of freedom. This freedom is not the trivial freedom of choosing shampoo or acting without considering consequences, a freedom often championed by certain ultra-right political factions. It is the freedom of the creator who shatters existing molds, who doesn't write just another pastoral novel but La Galatea, not just another chivalric romance but Don Quixote. It's the freedom of complex, unique, and memorable characters.
Johannot, Tony, 1851, Madrid, El ingenioso hidalgo don Quijote de la Mancha (Biblioteca Universal, Fernández de los Ríos). Source: Biblioteca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes
At this juncture, I'd like to encourage us to contemplate the word "identity." On one hand, it denotes sameness, whether between two elements or within an element itself. This is the notion of identity often manipulated by fascist ideologies: the identity of nations, races, religions, and, unequivocally, borders. This concept of identity, an imagined community sharing an ethereal and unchanging essence, is always identical to itself, always empty, generic, and contingent, as previously mentioned. These identity constructs based on borders thrive on exclusions, pitting one against another, and they parasitically rely on otherness as a unifying element. What would become of the fervent identitarian claims of fascisms without the discursive construction of the "other," the "different," to whom they attribute the dangerous desire to strip away, contaminate, or change—a perceived threat against which they urge us to guard ourselves?
However, the word 'identity' also conveys the idea of individuality and uniqueness. It's clear that attributes like race, place of birth, and even religion, which are often not chosen but rather accidental, don't inherently bestow individuality. True individuality emerges from the culmination of all the choices a person makes throughout their life in a world full of diverse but socially and historically delimited possibilities and paths. From Cervantes' works, we can contemplate an identity of intersections as a counterpoint to the idea of identity defined by borders. This type of identity depends not on a single "other" but on multiple "others," and it doesn't rely on exclusion but on coexistence. Coexistence allows for countless points of convergence and divergence across various dimensions.
Characters like the loveless Gelasia and Marcela coexist alongside the enamored Luscinda or Clara in "Don Quixote." Each character's choices don't invalidate the others, nor do they impose a singular path or prevent the existence of characters like Teresa Panza, who worry about their sons' futures. Moreover, the existence and rights of single or divorced women, women who choose to have abortions, or members of the LGTBIQ+ community do not threaten Christian heterosexual mothers. On the contrary, by asserting their own identities, they affirm that being a traditional mother is just one of many possible ways of life, not merely a social duty imposed by inertia.
The essential question is: Can an identity be threatened? Can it be taken away? Regardless of what the word 'identity' encompasses and excluding the specific historical circumstances that facilitated colonization and evangelization processes celebrated by certain flag bearers today, I am inclined to believe that it cannot be threatened. In the 21st century, I can't envision how an individual's or a community's presence, or rights could erase the historical, geographical, or even genetic contingencies that define a person. However, can a person voluntarily shed their identity? Is the knowledge of alternative possibilities a threat? Is it dangerous to teach this in schools? To address these questions, we must turn not only to La Galatea but also to Don Quixote.
Don Quixote, through literature, discovers the existence of other possible worlds beyond his mundane routines of eating “duelos y quebrantos” on Saturdays and lentils on Fridays. Undoubtedly, these other possibilities pose a threat to Alonso Quijano's identity. But who is Alonso Quijano? Cervantes introduces him as an hidalgo, a Manchego, "one of those," implying that he's a replaceable component within his sociohistorical context. Nothing more, nothing less. In contrast, Don Quixote de la Mancha, the most iconic character in Spanish literature, is defined by each of his choices, by his unpredictable and unmechanical madness in every chapter, and by his moments of sanity amidst his fictional adventures.
When compared to the identity of Don Quijote de la Mancha, the identity of Alonso Quijano appears feeble. However, the former doesn't supplant the latter. Don Quixote is fully aware of his origins in La Mancha, and because of this awareness, he chooses to embark on his world-altering journey. He acknowledges his status as an hidalgo, leading him to transform into a chivalrous knight errant who values personal and individual principles over noble titles and riches. He recognizes the tedium of his existence, prompting him to set off in search of adventure. He understands that he lives in an age marked by cynicism and pragmatism, so he decides to revive the ideal of the knight-errant, dedicating himself to helping the needy and righting wrongs.
Thus, he can confidently declare, "I know who I am, and I know I can be not only those I have mentioned but the Twelve Peers of France as well, and even all the nine paragons of Fame" (DQ 1. 5: 43). Don Quixote's identity is one of self-awareness and boundless possibilities, while Alonso Quijano's identity is confined to the narrow constraints of his time and place.
Literature? Philosophy? Cervantism? And what are they good for?
Now, in a more Dionysian spirit, I would extend an invitation to the person who posed these questions to join me at the theater. I would hope that Ron Lalá's "Cervantina" was on the playbill. If that were the case, I would also hope that it wouldn't face censorship at any point, allowing the Spanish Golden Age to critically engage with our society and the legacy of Franco's dictatorship – who knows, after the recent case of censorship of Paco Bezerra’s paly "Muero porque no muero." (“I die because I do not die”)
If all my wishes were to come true, I would eagerly await, with the questioner by my side, for the ronlaleros to address their inquiries through song:
Today my neighbor came to say,
Her sister-in-law, in quite a way,
Said Spain's been hit by quite a strain,
An outbreak of Cervantism's the name.
In streets and alleys, parks and squares,
Folks check editions, each compares,
Exemplary Novels, on their minds,
In this Cervantism, all sorts one finds.
No one's left who doesn't read,
Parents too, they all concede,
They name their sons, it’s quite the craze,
Persiles if boys, for girls, Galatea's gaze.
Spain is ill, in critical state,
Heading towards an unknown fate,
Everyone's reading, it's quite the scene,
Cervantes' words make them think and dream.
No vaccine or aspirin found,
To cure it all, Cervantism all around.
Now bookstores bloom where banks once stood,
Children born, their hands no good,
The doctor's orders for the nation,
Wear chains of TV, no hesitation.
Spain is ill, in critical state,
Heading towards a rather dire fate,
Everyone's reading, it's quite the scene,
Cervantes' words make them think and dream.
No vaccine or aspirin found,
To cure it all, Cervantism all around.
If you fear the world of written lore,
Take enemas of trash TV galore,
Cervantes' anniversary shines so bright,
Implanted with news day and night.
If this viral malady's not contained,
It'll become a pandemic, worldwide, unchained,
If Cervantism reaches every land,
Wars will end, hunger will disband.
Neighbors and friends, hear the plea,
Let Cervantism reign, let it be free!1
Cervantina by Ron Lalá in Congress
Sara Santa-Aguilar
Marie Skłodowska Curie Fellow
Università degli Studi di Mil
