Part 1
Yemoja, Gender, and Sexuality
InvocaciĂłn
Pedro R. PĂ©rez-Sarduy
En busca de un amante desempleado
La Habana vive casi en penumbras
con su aire contaminado de turistas y disidentes insĂłlitos
donde la joven oferta de un vestido ajustado
a las circunstancias de la Ășltima moda
cabalga de ironĂas por el malecĂłn
entre aparentes cĂłcteles exĂłticos
y la perenne indiferencia de un comisario
confuso también a la hora de persuadir.
De cualquier forma
La Habana estaba ahĂ,
mĂa y mĂĄs sensual que de costumbre
asomada como siempre a sus balcones
mirando sin cansancio
hacia el mar de muchachas y muchachos en pretérito
sobre monturas de vinyl
y el reflejo de una discoteca prohibida
con aquella vertiginosa silueta oscilando la pelvis
frente a un rostro pĂĄlido improvisado y desconocido,
por supuesto, con ropas de ultramar.
Sin embargo
no hay tiempo qué perder para el pobre mendigo
que busca la ocasiĂłn propicia para el manoseo y el juego entre lenguas.
Después de todo
estamos en presencia de una Ă©poca atormentada por tantas dolencias.
No hay tiempo qué perder tampoco
porque mañana por la tarde ya serĂa esta noche
y también otra madrugada tranquila
gratificada con una cena suntuosa
o sencillamente una cena sin atuendos importados
durante el tiempo que reine la austeridad
o una simple invitaciĂłn atrevida.
En estos tiempos sĂłlo okana
el dilogĂșn solitario que presagia malos agĂŒeros
ronda travieso por la tierra sedienta de tantas bondades desaprovechadas
incoherentes ofrendas y rogaciones mancilladas.
Hay escasez en la mirada
como aquella destinada a socorrer al desvalido
y tal parece que este lunes de hoy derrocha cierta soberbia
que nunca antes fue del todo racional.
QuĂ© alegrĂa si estuvieras conmigo ahora
O mĂo Reina del Mar!
TĂș que te atreves de espumas a cabalgar sobre Taurus
entre ricas turquesas que adornan tu amable corona.
TĂș que siempre desoyes el grito cĂłmplice del iniciado
antes del crepĂșsculo y sigues de largo entre mis brazos
acompañada solamente por el sonido de cocos secos
que siempre permanecieron secos.
No volviste de la gran fiesta
y hablabas contigo misma
procurando satisfacer la frescura de la miel
en la punta de los senos
revolcando tu cuerpo fresco de aguas limpias
y asĂ para penetrar en lo mĂĄs Ăntimo de tu noche
allĂ donde el pudor se detiene asustado.
Antes de partir todas las sombras fueron ingenuas
y silenciosamente similares.
Invocation
Pedro R. PĂ©rez Sarduy
Searching for an unemployed lover1
Havana lives on the edge of darkness
with its air contaminated by tourists
and uncommon dissidents
where the young offer of a dress tightly fitting
the circumstances of the latest fashion trots ironically
along the sea front
among seemingly exotic cocktails
and the perennial indifference of a commissar
also confused when it comes to persuasion.
Whatever form it took
Havana was there mine and more sensual than usual
leaning out as always from her balconies
gazing tirelessly towards the sea of girls and boys of the past
dressed in lycra and the reflection of a forbidden disco
with that dizzy silhouette
facing a pale face unexpected and unknown
wearing foreign clothes, of course.
However
there is no time to lose for the poor beggar
searching for the right moment for a quick feel
and the game between tongues.
After all
we are in the presence of an age tormented by so many ailments.
There is no time to lose either
because tomorrow afternoon would already be tonight
and also another peaceful dawn
rewarded with a sumptuous supper of simply a supper
with no imported frills
for as long as the reign of austerity lasts
or just a daring invitation.
In these times only okana
the solitary African conch who predicts ill omens
restlessly roams the earth thirsting for so many kind acts
wasted
incoherent offerings and sullied pleas
something is wanting in the look
like that aimed at assisting the needy
so much that today Monday seems to exude a certain arrogance
which was never before entirely rational.
What joy if you were with me now
O mĂo Queen of the Sea
You who dare to ride the waves mounted on Taurus
among precious turquoise gems which adorn gentle crown
You who are always ignore the secretly agreed cry of the initiate
before dusk and you keep going in my arms
accompanied only by the sound of dry coconuts
which have always been dry.
You did not return from the grand feast
and were speaking with yourself
endeavoring to satisfy the freshness of honey
on the tips of yours breasts
your body writhing fresh with clean waters
penetrating the most intimate point of your night
there where shame halts frightened.
And before parting all the shadows
were innocent and silently similar.
Note
1. Translated by Jean Stubbs.
Chapter 1
Nobodyâs Mammy
YemayĂĄ as Fierce Foremother in Afro-Cuban Religions
Elizabeth PĂ©rez
In the writing on Afro-Cuban religions, YemayĂĄ has been approached as both the prototype for and the deified paragon of maternal love. According to most accounts, not only does YemayĂĄ birth fellow orishas and raise the divine twins, the Ibeyi, as her adopted children, but she also features prominently in the mythology of her son, ChangĂł. Dozens of publications call YemayĂĄ âthe universal mother,â implying a uniformity of ideal maternal traits across cultures; they define her sexuality primarily in terms of her desire to engender life as the âmarine matrixâ of the cosmos.1 Such texts have cited the variety of creatures in the oceanâher preferred abode in Afro-Diasporic traditionâto illustrate the breadth and profundity of her generative force, as well as the vast resources available to her for supplicantsâ material nurturance. With her ample bosom, hips, and abdomen embodying the âeternal feminine,â YemayĂĄ has appeared to lend credence to âmother goddessâ as a conceptual category capable of encompassing disparate figures from the Paleolithic period to the present day.2
Despite the widespread assumption that deities represent timeless, primordial essences, historical contingencies and culturally specific religious imaginaries have combined to produce the contemporary vision of YemayĂĄ. Many of the images and narratives that dominate conventional understandings of this orisha originated in nineteenth-century Cuba, when motherhood was ineluctably shaped by local racial discourses, the practice of concubinage, and slavery as an economic, social, and political institution. YemayĂĄ is the orisha most often depicted as Black, an identification reflected in and reinforced by her correspondence with the Virgin of Regla, the only Marian icon in Cuba considered to be of direct African descent. Mainstream portrayals of YemayĂĄ as âde piel negrĂsimaâ and ânegra como el azabacheâ have long cried out for analysis, especially bearing in mind that every form of Cuban popular cultural media has perpetuated the caricature of the dark-skinned, thickset âmammy.â3 Indeed, considering YemayĂĄâs association with both surrogacy and other physical characteristics attributed to the mammy, it is no exaggeration to say that this orisha has been caught between archetype and stereotype.4
While the biracial âmulattaâ has not only served as the emblem of cultural hybridity for the Cuban nation, but also become something of a fetish for current scholarship, representations of the ânegraââboth human and divineâhave been left woefully undertheorized. At issue here is emphatically not whether certain women of color merit greater attention than others, but rather, the very fact that the orishas have been understood to occupy racialized female bodies, inhabit distinct subjectivities according to them, and privileged differentially. Following on the crucial insights of critical race theory and Black feminist and womanist thought with regard to YemayĂĄ, I invoke Blackness as a quintessentially modern, gendered category of identity for which pigmentation and phenotype act as unstable signifiers. While underscoring Blackness as constituted within communities through shared experiences of racialization, usually entailing exposure to discriminatory practices, I also wish to emphasize the local modalities of Blackness found throughout the Afro-Atlantic world.5 The multiplicity and âslipperinessâ of âBlackâ can be said to mirror that of YemayĂĄ herself.6
In what follows, I argue that analyses of YemayĂĄ in the Black Atlantic world must take more rigorously to task folkloric generalizations about this orisha and look for her in the particularity of Afro-Diasporic experience. I begin by examining YemayĂĄâs emergence in Cuba through her correspondence with Regla in Afro-Cuban LucumĂ and Espiritismo Cruzado, as well as with her counterpart in Palo Monte, Madre Agua. I assert that the relationship between Regla and YemayĂĄ has assisted in preserving countermemories of the Afro-Cuban past, maintained in opposition to the hegemonic âmaster narrativeâ personified by the mammy. I contend that within the transnational Afro-Atlantic context, YemayĂĄ is best approached as a fierce âforemother figure,â and I elaborate this claim with respect to two geographically and chronologically distant urban LucumĂ communities. As a historian and ethnographer, I proceed methodologically by surveying the pertinent documentary evidence concerning Afro-Cuban traditions, before drawing on several years of my own research on the South Side of Chicago. I conclude that to be acquainted with YemayĂĄâs fierceness is to examine her manifestation within communities as they negotiate both their transatlantic religious legacies and the meanings of her Blackness.
YemayĂĄ and Regla in Afro-Cuban Tradition
Four Marian figures from Spain became associated with LucumĂ spirits in Cuba during the colonial period: the Virgins of Mercedes (ObatalĂĄ), Candelaria (OyĂĄ),7 Caridad (OchĂșn), and Regla (YemayĂĄ), the only one to number among the Black Madonnas of Europe. According to legend, the original sculpture of Regla was created in Africa by none other than Augustine of Hippo, and it eventually made its way to Chipiona, near CĂĄdizâthe port of choice for ships sailing to the Americas.8 Owing to her reputation among priests and sailors, this image of Regla gained followings in several Spanish possessions.9
In Cuba, her iconography has stayed relatively consistent for over three centuries; she carries the infant Jesus in her arms, and he grasps a flower in his hand.10 Reglaâs head is covered, but the Christ Childâs is not. His face and hands are alabaster; hers are ebony. The connection between her Blackness and her power entered the historical record in the mid-eighteenth century when Bishop Pedro AugustĂn Morell de Santa Cruz visited her sanctuary in the ultramarine town of Regla, across the bay from Havana, built in 1692 on the property of a sugar mill.11 The bishop wrote, âWhat distinguished this image as a prodigious effigy was that she had never accepted touch-ups with white color.â12
Although in calling Regla âvastantemente moreno,â Bishop Morrell employed the preferred racial term for a person with African ancestry on both sides, history does not record the precise moment at which her color (negra) became a sign of race (Negro). Nor do the archives assist us in determining precisely when LucumĂ practitioners began to associate Regla with YemayĂĄ.13 Yet the pairing of Virgins and orishas was presumably encouraged by the Roman Catholic Church itself, eager to organize slaves and freedmen into the ethnically differentiated religious brotherhoods cum mutual aid societies called cabildos de naciĂłn and to catechize them by foste...