Arcadiana

A Blog about Literature, Culture and the Environment

Category: Ecofeminism

  • “Forever changed”: Women, Revelation, and the Apocalypse in Wellington, New Zealand, 1846-1853

    In her classic New Zealand novel The Captive Wife, Fiona Kidman’s character Jacky experiences an Apocalypse within an Apocalypse – that is, a Revelation against a Revelation. Against the backdrop of colonial expansion by British imperial interests, Jacky is placed – first by circumstance, then by desire – “in a liminal space with a Māori chief”, momentarily being forced to consider the rapid advance of settler-colonialism from the point of view of the colonised Indigenous population. Concluding her tale, she simply states: “I am forever changed by it,” a brief summary of what was, to her, a Revelation of change defining an Apocalyptic experience against the backdrop of a larger colonial process of transformation.[1]

    It is impossible to document the literary and environmental history of Aotearoa without acknowledging the Apocalyptic forces that have shaped the archipelago. Against the usual assertion that “Apocalypses imply that humans have no control over what will happen,” the changes wrought by colonialism were imposed by people upon others, and, by extension, their environments.[2] The country’s environment, in particular, serves as a reminder of the intensity of the programme of “systematic colonisation” employed by the British Crown in its mission to exploit the natural resources under their occupation. One example is that of Wellington, first colonised by the imperialist New Zealand Company in 1839. The region consists of a series of valleys and hills, once mostly covered in forest, swamps, and temperate grassland. With the arrival of European colonists, these environments would be appropriated and irreversibly altered, pushing Māori to the wayside as their land was acquired and exploited. As historians Lachy Paterson and Angela Wanhalla described, “Māori had the land that Pakeha wanted, not just for the economic aspects of settlement, but also as a means to realise Crown sovereignty and to gain effective control.”[3]

    Over the two decades following Wellington’s initial colonisation, these aspects would prove to be Apocalyptically impactful; however, whereas colonial men impacted their environments in deliberate destruction of landforms, flora, and fauna, colonial women were forced to engage critically in different roles. Likewise, Māori women were pushed by these forces into roles of environmental protection and land tenure management, impacting their society, culture, and their own conceptions of what a woman could achieve. These two groups are split by classical ideas of Apocalypse; Dutch journalist Beracha Meijer has described, for example, “the male gaze that is inherent in the dualism of Revelation, in which women are identified as either ‘the good woman’ or ‘the whore’” depending on their level of resistance to the invariably masculinised forces changing their world.[4]

    This piece explores both aspects through a careful analysis of the primary literary genre produced in the colony at the time: letter-writing. European women’s views on Wellington’s ecological Apocalypse are captured through the letters of Charlotte Godley, a “colonial mistress” exemplary of settler-colonial domestic experiences; Māori experiences, meanwhile, are captured through the extensive network of letters and testimonies produced in direct resistance to the destruction of their land, forms within which the mana of wāhine Māori tended to flourish in appearance. This analysis leads to the conclusion that “these lives departed demonstrably from the ideals of womanhood” of the Victorian era of British hegemony, and that the immense impact of ecological collapse and environmental destruction led these women into a true Revelation that the colony’s landscapes and landforms, as well as their own societies, were being changed irrevocably.[5]

    Observation and Exoticism: Charlotte Godley and the Revelation of Change

    Settler women formed a crucial part of the European literary corpus in Aotearoa throughout this early period of colonisation. Though heavily disenfranchised, colonist women became powerful instruments by which domestic landscapes could be shaped throughout this period. These experiences also allowed them to observe settler environments, and document their destruction; moreover, they could accurately capture colonial attitudes toward this intensive regime of change through their writings.

    Charlotte Godley, a Welsh settler and traveller, was among the most prominent of colonial letter-writers during this period, though her writings would only gain attention following her death five decades later. Godley arrived in Wellington in the winter of 1850, a time wherein settlers were continuing initiatives to convert the land into European-styled cultivations, homesteads, and stations.[6] Within this framework, European women were generally tasked with establishing familial gardens near their homesteads; described by Charlotte Macdonald and Frances Porter, Godley’s mission, as defined by this patriarchally-enforced occupation, was to create “havens of serenity and retreat” in recontextualising colonial landscapes and households.[7] This granted Godley a unique perspective: she was able to directly observe the changes wrought on her local environment as settlement progressed, creating vignettes of ecological Apocalypse through her letters to her family in Wales.

    Apocalypse, in Wellington Province settler society, did not present women as an instrument of “compensation, critique, and change” of environments on a major scale. Due in part to patriarchal conceptions of gender, and, perhaps underlying this, the association of women with environmental growth and maintenance, settlers’ wives were excluded from enacting this change, reducing them to observers of this utopian Apocalypse.[8] As Porter and Macdonald have described, Charlotte Godley “provided a dummy in the shape of a woman … of a standard befitting the company of a lady,” defining her time in the colony with domestic activities in the interests of her husband’s “civilising mission”.[9] Godley consistently reinforces, throughout her letters, this sense of inconsequentiality within her interactions with her immediate environment. Exemplifying this learned passivity, Godley refers to certain events as inevitable: “I must own that I look forward with some fear and trembling to these civilities,” she recounts, regarding a dinner service mandated by her husband; expressing an underlying boredom at her situation, she recalls collecting as many newspapers as possible, “more than I can read in a week, which is delightful … I have nothing from home.”[10] Godley would even express a desire to rebel against her reduction to domesticity, in one letter reciting a poem: “I hope I may never be tempted to roam / From England, dear England, my own native home.”[11] Colonial life represented, for Godley, a remnant of domestic European society, wherein “injustice was a proper topic of conversation, [yet] it was never challenged … a web of ideas and practices that assumed the absolute primacy of men in all things,” as Beryl Fletcher states in her feminist critique of New Zealand colonialism.[12] Even an Apocalypse would not, in her conception, change Godley’s quotidian life by a great amount; women had become regarded as passive objects against the patriarchal advances of larger-scale environmental modification.

    Godley, first and foremost, was an observer of environments and their destruction under the Crown’s rigidly patriarchal colonial regime. Resource gathering by settlers in the province was exploitative and generally indiscriminate. On the 9thof July, Godley wrote that her husband had been sent “up the coast to the north, for the destruction of teal, ducks, and pukakos [sic] innumerable,” an outright statement of colonial intentions to clear the indigenous environment entirely.[13]The following week, Godley would write another account of settler land clearance, passively commenting that “the valley with all its new clearing and half-burnt stumps left in the ground requires sun in the winter to make it look happy.” Later, she would remark again on the visual appearance of the clearing projects: 

    Their clearings have been very artistically done, and a good deal of bush left, in patches, so that it does not look so bare as most places about, and their grand pride is a lawn … which is to be real English grass, and which is already nearly free from stumps; at present the great disfigurement of the Hutt, for the bush, there, has been all cleared with fire, so that when trees are cut down … a black and very unsightly root is left.[14]

    Here, Godley recognises the apocalyptic magnitude of the environmental change that predominantly male colonists were causing to the natural ecosystems of the province. Nonetheless, the “unsightly” nature of this destruction is understood within a context of colonial discourse, a necessary contribution to “androcentric conceptions” of “a promise of justice and liberation,” as Beracha Meijer states, offered by engaging with the settler-colonial establishment.[15] While observing the potential horrors of this Apocalypse, Godley appears as a self-described “ordinary mortal,” powerless to resist these patriarchal forces against nature; to offer resistance would imply opposition to the new colonial order imposed on the land, regardless of one’s opinions.[16]

    Nonetheless, Godley regarded herself, within the confines of this oppressive colonial idea of womanhood, a potential instrument of change within her immediately local environment. Godley engaged extensively in colonial cottage gardening, even in her temporary accommodation in Wellington; she specifically requested, for example, European seeds to plant in order to modify this environment for the sake of familiarity, a minor contribution to the colonial Apocalypse. Godley explained:

    It is very good of Aunt Charlotte to think of us and our seeds; those she has sent will be most valuable … It is, I suppose, rather characteristic, in an English colony, that the gardens here are full of English plants and trees. We have in this garden (e.g.) quantities of fuchsias, roses (which don’t seem to do very well) … very few native things … [this] will be invaluable in making the house … look a little green and verdant.[17]

    Godley describes a small section of colonial life wherein she can contribute to the patriarchal, utopian Apocalypse being imposed on the environment by her male counterparts, a “literary depiction of ‘life in the bedroom’” in which she “suggested a … journey to somewhere else” through minor contributions to ecological change, a theme prevalent in early New Zealand women’s literature.[18] In furnishing the cottage with ornamental plants, Godley’s supposed beautification of her new environment contributes to the colonial establishment through transforming it, much as clearing spaces for construction would. Her desires to establish a European-styled status quo in tandem with men’s efforts to transfigure the province are further reinforced in her expressions of appreciation for “a ‘good park’” and her “antipathy to the black slugs with which the garden swarms,” an enmity toward native environments that would socially contribute to the colonial Apocalypse of environmental transformation if nothing else.[19] Familiarising the landscape of her domestic environment, Godley became an instrument of the patriarchal settler establishment in playing a decidedly feminine role within “the confines of domesticity.”[20]

    Further observing this apocalyptic Revelation of colonial change, Godley re-contextualised her local environments by exoticising and othering native ecologies, seeking to modify normality to fit a European settler perspective of idealism. In her letters home, Godley expressed a strong desire to change the alien environment of the province to something more familiar, even outside of furnishing her cottage garden. She most commonly explained this through emphasising the foreignness of the plants she observed: pohutukawa, a common tree, is described as “very different … I am afraid it does not like cultivation and white people, for I do not see it in any of the gardens.” Conifers, likewise, are portrayed as alien and unfamiliar: “it is not of the sombre colour that our evergreens are at home.” The “unusual” environment is exoticised, both its changeable aspects – which will likely be destroyed or transformed by the incumbent Apocalypse – and its immutable aspects.[21] The inversion of the seasons relative to the Northern Hemisphere, for example, was a particularly confusing aspect of the colony to Godley: “How curious it will seem too, to have a very hot Christmas day, if we live to see it, and the windows ornamented with flowers something like lilac laburnums.” She summarised that, from her perspective, “so many things seem turned upside down … I often come to a standstill. Sun in the north!”[22] Rather than describing what, to the environment, must change, Godley here expresses her experience of a different type of Apocalypse; the climate itself “reveal[s] an alternative reality within this world,” a jarring experience of Revelation that, to her, was a barrier to the construction of a colonial utopia in the province.[23]

    In operating within the domestic confines of a highly patriarchal and enforced order, Godley was forced toward the ideology of changing alien environments to suit settlers’ needs, regardless of how it would affect her. A strong desire to transform her local environment is, here, representative of her desire to become involved with the creation of the Apocalypse by colonial men; furthermore, this illustrates Godley’s need to be recognised as part of settler society and to invert the “injustice” that women have been confined to – that is, to become equal in bringing forth the utopian Revelation of settler-colonialism by the destruction of the environment. Nonetheless, the power structures at play define Godley’s existence within Wellington Province as observational and minor in scope. Godley’s letters, then, are vignettes of a patriarchal society wherein gender is used as a tool to divide the exploitation of a foreign environment, delegating aspects of an ecological Apocalypse between men and women for expansionist ends.

    Inheritance and Embodiment: Wāhine Māori and the Apocalypse

    Observations of this Revelation of change, from the perspective of wāhine Māori, were generally far removed from the notes taken by European settlers. Instead of embodying change as the notation of “unusual” ecologies and the familiarisation of that which was once alien, Māori women would be led to write of this apparent Revelation as one of oppression and destruction, represented through the taking of land and the imposition of exotic new laws and ideals. These documents would take more ephemeral forms, often being told second or third hand through court testimony or the letters and journals kept by Crown negotiators or missionaries. As Paterson and Wanhalla state, “the way in which land was purchased means that women’s voices at these meetings were less likely to be heard, or at least recorded. It is in the written correspondence that their views are made known.”[24] These forms, too, reveal a different type of Apocalypse than that experienced by European settlers.


    By the time Charlotte Godley began to write letters from Wellington Province, a settler economy had become established in its outlying district of Wairarapa, though on a largely unofficial basis. Structures of subsistence landholding among Māori endured for decades afterward; these systems were employed by women of mana as a means of consolidating ownership among whanau and hapū. However, encroaching upon these structures were the forces of official European settler-colonialism, including the ever-present and increasing threat of land seizure and forced sale by Māori, alienating them from their environments. The sporadic European settlement of the district would quickly give way to forces of ecological collapse and imperial conquest, wherein Māori women were compelled to change themselves, their conceptions of gender, and their deep-rooted cultural ideas of power within patriarchy.

    During this period, wāhine Māori were determined to continue systems that had endured before the ‘Revelation’ of colonialism, and would resist this apparent Apocalypse through a strict continuation of “everything that’s established and regarded as normal.” A member of the Ngāti Moe hapū of Palliser Bay described, in Land Court testimony, the movement of their hapū following an 1846 land lease at the coastal kainga of Te Kopi. In this description, the custody of the land between Hiripi Stream and Waipipi Hill was transferred to Te Peehi Tupepakihirangi to fulfil strategic political objectives and continue a line of familial ownership of that land, with a woman at the centre of this negotiation: 

    Wī Kingi [Tutepakihirangi] married Kate Ruia, the granddaughter of Hamahona; this is why Hamahona gave ownership to Tutepakihirangi, firstly because of Wī Kingi’s ability to control Te Peehi, and secondly to return the deed to Te Peehi. Wī Kingi also has an ancestral connection to this land.[25]

    This particular type of land management became common in Wairarapa during this period, and indicative of a general change within seasonal migration practices among hapū along the Ruamahanga River.[26] Women had traditionally been a major part of land transfer agreements, but became increasingly important to them following wider efforts to preserve forest and river resources within Māori groups rather than selling or leasing. Kate Ruia’s specific involvement as a woman of mana indicates that the systems within Ngāti Moe were being subjected to the ‘Revelation of change’ heralded in earlier texts. At the centre of this change, a woman was entrusted with the continued existence of her ancestors’ forest land, despite this apparently inevitable and quickly impending Apocalypse. Furthering this change, a related testimony implies that timber harvesting and forest land use by Rangitāne during this period had become limited to family or small hapūgroups and based on smaller-scale landholdings, differing from the almost entirely communal use among larger groups that Rangitāne saw before the arrival of Europeans in the district.[27] Some change had certainly occurred, either as a response to or in conjunction with the Revelation of settler-colonialism. Patriarchal ideologies of ownership and inheritance were slowly changing due to women’s interactions with their environments, and desires to reclaim these ecologies by any cultural means necessary.

    Soon after this transfer of land, Te Aitu-o-te-Rangi Jury, Ngati Moe wāhine of mana, was transferred land along the Ruamahanga at Waka-a-Paua, where Jury and her family would proceed to engage in traditional cultivation alongside timber harvesting.[28] In an 1868 testimony by Jury’s son Te Whatahoro, he describes:

    [Te Aitu-o-te-Rangi] had a joint interest in the land as a Ngāti Muratu [sic] but it became wholly hers … my mother and I cult[ivated] at Ngā Taira after the gift. At Pakihiroa also – and at Ngaki-a-tōtara also – I lived there and my father’s fence was there – The timber was taken from the bush and some out of the bush that had been given to Te Waka. I also cult[ivated] at Ngara-a-anui.[29]

    It is significant, moreover, that the land at Waka-a-Paua was transferred specifically to Te Aitu and not her husband, a European settler; this seems to have been a deliberate decision by Wī Kingi, who “disputed” the land transfer before granting it to her.[30] This may reflect a desire to keep land within the tribal group rather than transferring ownership of valuable forested land – and its resources – into European hands, though the land was eventually sold to the Crown in 1856.[31] In a sense, this would indicate that women were being centred as instruments for opposing European land tenure as an increasingly relevant force. Though not a blatant or explicit move toward nullifying this Apocalypse, these methods of land transfer reveal “‘whisperings’ and ‘Revelations’” that underlay more prudent anti-imperialist sentiments, protecting their timber, bush, and forest resources through inverting patriarchal systems of inheritance.[32] Here, the Apocalypse constructed a society wherein women began “achieving a greater degree of emancipation and self-determination beyond what was possible in the old world,” though not in the typical Eurocentric sense by which this notion is usually applied.[33]

    Patriarchal systems such as inheritance, ownership, and economics continued to be inverted as the settler-colonial establishment became increasingly entrenched in Aotearoa. Women would continue to play a major role in navigating their hapū through the growing threat of land alienation, becoming the unofficial and undeclared defenders of their environments through rhetoric and defiance. In this, the oppression and destruction that so defined their Apocalypse could be re-stated “outside the patriarchal zone,” wherein their distance from the “influences” of the past and future would aid them in preserving their wilderness, either in memory or in form.[34]

    By 1850, Land Purchase Commissioner Donald McLean was directed by the Crown to negotiate purchases throughout the Wairarapa and its environs. To the north, in the forest district of Te Taperenui-a-Whatonga, two areas of significance were stewarded by women. One, Queen Hine-i-paketia, was described by McLean as the “Principal person of the whole District.”[35] She also occupied a position far senior to her male consort Puhara, in spite of her gender.[36] Hine-i-paketia experienced the colonial Apocalypse as a leader rather than as an observer, much as her predecessors on the Palliser Bay coast had; in land sale negotiations, she was forced to the front and centre in opposing settlers’ encroachment on her territory. Nonetheless, Māori within Wairarapa were swiftly being affected by similarly apocalyptic forces of poverty, illness, and the indirect effects of European settlement; food was generally becoming scarce as ecosystems and environments collapsed in favour of colonial land clearance and doctrines of tenure. Under these apocalyptic forces of change, European land purchase authorities “would not solicit, but merely await, an offer from a tribal group,” an almost siege-like mentality contingent on settler-colonial environmental depletion.[37] While Hine-i-paketia “ha[d] great influence,” her outlook on environmental preservation would be greatly affected by these factors, and she would move to sell her landholdings.[38] Nonetheless, she would also express resistance in doing so. In her final letter to him, Hine-i-paketia sent McLean a demand for immense sums of compensation for the various blocks that she had surrendered. In articulating these high costs, Hine-i-paketia wrote one singular message of resistance: “Do not be annoyed by this statement.”[39] Through the period of change effected by this new Apocalypse, Hine-i-paketia was able to significantly subvert and resist the encroachment of imperialist patriarchy; though she would lose access to the whenua held by her ancestors, she remained relatively untouched, as a woman, by the passing waves that would amount to “a true change in power structures” throughout the region.[40]

    Ani Matenga Te Patukaikino, a “principal chief,” also controlled land in the region. McLean wrote in his diary that she “spoke firmly … as they were now waste [lands], the birds and usual food that rendered the land valuable have disappeared and let us have Europeans to enrich our country and bring goods for all old and young.”[41] Ani’s speech served as a reminder to colonists that their destruction of the environment had manifested itself in creating what, to settlers, would have constituted useless land; moreover, Ani’s presence in negotiations would have effected the Revelation that the power structures of gender were being subverted through ecological change. Ani continued this pointed argument in a following letter: “I do not have anything to say to you … you should perhaps be quick,” she wrote soon afterwards, probably regarding the same land sale.[42] Another letter simply states that McLean “had departed from [his] original intentions” of preserving Māori-stewarded environments.[43] Another letter calls into focus the explicitly gendered component of her environmental resistance, threatening McLean’s perceived masculinity: “I find that all castrated dogs are good dogs”.[44] Ani’s resistance against the further advancement of the colonial establishment is exemplary of an attitude toward the Apocalypse that would come to promote the environment not merely as a resource, but as a place with connections to its people, as Māori had traditionally viewed it. Moreover, this collection of correspondences would indicate that resistance to this Apocalypse was “interpreted as a tool of empowerment,” in that Ani “does not seem to look towards Apocalypse as a goal” but as a method by which these power structures could be subverted and exploited, a “solution to … abuse of power”.[45] Ani, in essence, presented the imperial establishment with the statement that imperial forces, in a gendered context, had already led to environmental collapse, drawing clear connections between settler capitalism, patriarchy, and Apocalyptic ecological downturn.

    In other documents, women occupied a similar niche in standing against the impending colonial Apocalypse. Contemporary court hearings and letters reveal a wealth of information regarding women as centring the environment, whether in person or in folk literature. Such an attitude indicates that forested land – and the gathering of food, such as birds and the natural productions of trees – remained an important part of life within Wairarapa Māori societies, and that women were often at the forefront of navigating these structures throughout the incoming period of change. A collective of Ngāti Kahungunu landholders at Ahiaruhe, constituting a mixed-gender group, stated the following in an 1853 missive to McLean:

    The only place that will be given to you is Wairarapa, Te Ahiaruhe won’t be given to you. That is our own land. And this is our intention, that the gardens will not be given away, never, never, never at all. Don’t let someone come and be given your money for that, because that land belongs to many… moreover, it is a small part that we are retaining and, after all, we have descendants; it would not be right [for our descendants] to have to fly up into the foliage of a tree to live.[46]

    This letter reflects the aims of Wairarapa landholders more explicitly; while the land surrounding the area, which the surveyor Charles Pelichet had assessed as “generally poor, barren, and very broken,” did not directly concern Māori living in Ahiaruhe, the prospect of European settlers purchasing the land “covered with fine timber” comprising their cultivations, gardens, and forests important for kai gathering was a major source of disquiet.[47] The authors of this letter also make it clear that forested land at Ahiaruhe is a concept that cannot be divorced from the ideas of ancestral ownership and the descent of hapū, which they give as another reason that the block cannot readily be sold.[48] Even the name Ahiaruhe – directly translated as “burning bracken” – recalls a more lush and vibrant time period prior to any Apocalypse in the past or present, a symbolic and significant name also serving as a form of  subversive resistance through language. As an Apocalypse, colonialism had evidently changed some power structures within Ahiaruhe; “broken” land became connected inextricably to its residents and their descendants, and women were able to subvert some patriarchal structures for the sake of cultural survival. The group addressing McLean was not simply a group of high-ranking officials by means of being male; instead, women had fought to be included in the process of resistance, leading to a Revelation of change within their community and, by extension, the rohe. In opposing colonial advances, Māori women and their environments had become deeply linked.

    Conclusion

    The stories told in this piece illustrate the historic role of women as observers, chroniclers, and resistors. Charlotte Godley’s experiences display the imperative role of women under a highly patriarchal colonist society, wherein she documented the transformation and Apocalyptic reconfiguration of the land around her while occupying a domestic role in the context of repressive gendered ideals. Women like Ani Matenga Te Patukaikino and Hine-i-paketia, meanwhile, documented their experiences refusing to simply be labelled as victims of imperial expansion, wherein they took on different roles to adapt and thrive against a landscape of resource exploitation. All of these accounts display the complexity of the transfiguration of gender, ecologies, and societies undergone by peoples and communities within Wellington in the nineteenth century.

    As Aotearoa’s climate continues to change, these Apocalyptic shifts will continue to proliferate within its societies. Observing and documenting environmental destruction, too, will continue, likely propelled by the same forces that encouraged women to do so throughout history. These Revelations will continue – and, undoubtedly, so will women’s adaptations to these shifting, transformative changes. We see this in Māori women’s efforts to reclaim their culture, in their moves beyond reductive outlooks on environmental loss, and in the continued resistance of mana whenua to the seizure and alienation of their land. If there is a post-Apocalypse in which this society can thrive, it will certainly be thanks to the efforts of women like these.

    [1] Anna Leclercq, “Fiona Kidman, Writer: A Feminist Critique of New Zealand Society” (MA thesis, Massey University, 2012), 92; Fiona Kidman, The Captive Wife (Auckland: Random House, 2005), 346.

    [2] Beracha Meijer, “Women’s Apocalypses: Apocalypse, Utopia, and Feminist Dystopian Fiction” (BA thesis, Utrecht, 2018), 12-13.

    [3] Lachy Patterson and Angela Wanhalla, He Reo Wahine: Māori Women’s Voices from the Nineteenth Century (Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2017), 3.

    [4] Meijer, “Apocalypses,” 12.

    [5] Frances Porter and Charlotte Macdonald, eds., ‘My Hand Will Write What My Heart Dictates’ (Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 1996), 5.

    [6] John R. Godley, ed., Letters from Early New Zealand by Charlotte Godley, 1850-1853 (Christchurch: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1951), 57.

    [7] Peter Holland & Jim Williams, “Pioneer Settlers Recognizing and Responding to the Climatic Challenges of Southern New Zealand,” in Climate, Science, and Colonization, ed. James Beattie (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2014), 81-82; Porter and Macdonald, ‘My Hand Will Write,‘ 5.

    [8] Meijer, “Apocalypses,” 12-13.

    [9] Porter and Macdonald, ‘My Hand Will Write,’ 5.

    [10] Godley, Letters, 66, 75.

    [11] Godley, Letters, 65.

    [12] Beryl Fletcher, The House at Karamu (Melbourne: Spinifex, 2003), 155.

    [13] Godley, Letters, 67.

    [14] Godley, Letters, 67-70.

    [15] Meijer, “Apocalypses,” 13.

    [16] Godley, Letters, 81.

    [17] Godley, Letters, 80.

    [18] Leclercq, “Kidman,” 92.

    [19] Godley, Letters, 75, 82.

    [20] Leclercq, “Kidman,” 21.

    [21] Godley, Letters, 58, 64.

    [22] Godley, Letters, 64-65.

    [23] Meijer, “Apocalypses,” 26.

    [24] Patterson and Wanhalla, He Reo Wahine, 1-9.

    [25] Māori Land Court Assessor’s Book, c. 1870-1915, MSY-4817, Alexander Turnbull Library (ATL), National Library of New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand.

    [26] “Miscellaneous Maori notebook,” unpublished notes, MS-0198, ATL.

    [27] White, “Jury,” 13-14.

    [28] White, “Jury,” 13.

    [29] White, “Jury,” 13.

    [30] White, “Jury,” 14.

    [31] H. McCracken, Land Alienation in the Wairarapa District undertaken by the Crown and the Wellington Provincial Council 1854-c.1870s (Wellington: Crown Forest Rental Trust, 2001), 42.

    [32] Meijer, “Apocalypses,” 22. 

    [33] Porter and Macdonald, ‘My Hand Will Write,’ 5.

    [34] Leclercq, “Kidman,” 92.

    [35] Donald McLean, diary entries dated December 14, 1850 to February 12, 1851, 25, MCLEAN-1008793, ATL.

    [36] Angela Ballara, “Wāhine Rangatira: Māori Women of Rank and their Role in the Women’s Kotahitanga Movement of the 1890s,” New Zealand Journal of History 27, no. 2, 1993, 131.

    [37] Patterson and Wanhalla, He Reo Wahine, 1-9.

    [38] Donald McLean, diary entries dated December 14, 1850 to February 12, 1851, 25, MCLEAN-1008793, ATL.

    [39] Hine-i-paketia and Te Hapuku to Donald McLean, June 4, 1851, MCLEAN-1031700, ATL.

    [40] Meijer, “Apocalypses,” 30.

    [41] Donald McLean, diary entries dated December 14, 1850 to February 12, 1851, 25, MCLEAN-1008793, ATL.

    [42] Patterson and Wanhalla, He Reo Wahine, 7.

    [43] McLean, 1851, 25.

    [44] Ani Matenga to Donald McLean, April 21, 1851, MCLEAN-1030318, ATL.

    [45] Meijer, “Apocalypses,” 31.

    [46] Wairarapa Māori to Donald McLean, 19 September 1853, MS-Papers-0032-0677B, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand

    [47] Charles H. Louis Pelichet to Donald McLean, 28 April 1852, MS-Papers-0032-0499, ATL.

    [48] Pelichet to McLean, 28 April 1852.

  • Organic Farming: A Spirit of Ecofeminism in India

    Organic Farming: A Spirit of Ecofeminism in India

    According to the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), organic farming is a production management system that is unique and promotes biological cycles, biodiversity, and biological activity in the soil [4]. This is accomplished by using biological, mechanical, and farm-based agronomic approaches while reducing the amount of synthetic farm input from outside sources.

    The primary goal of organic farming is to enhance the interdependent communities of flora, animals, soil, and humans as well as their ability to produce food and maintain their health (Scialabba and Hattam, 2002) [6].

    Origin of Organic Farming in India

    The main historical examples of organic agriculture in India revolve around the following:

    Period/Literature  Description of organic farming
    Ancient periodNeolithic civilizations used this 10,000-year-old tradition, which was also embraced by Mesopotamian and other civilizations like the Hwang-Ho.
    RamayanaDead matter that returns to the earth, such as trash or rotting corpses, is transformed into nutrient-rich material. According to C. Rajagopalachari, it is Mother Earth’s power.
    Mahabharata (5500 BC)There have been references to the celestial cow, Kamadhenu. Its contribution to human existence and function in ensuring soil fertility has been described.
    Arthashastra by Kautilya (300 BC)Refers to various kinds of manure, including oil cakes and animal excrement.
    Brihad-Sanhita by VarahmihirExplains the numerous ways to collect manure and how to choose the right manure for different types of crops.
    Rig-Veda (2500–1500 BC)The Rig Veda 1,161,10 (written between 2500 and 1500 BC) and the Atharva Veda II 8.3 (written around 1000 BC) both provide descriptions of organic farming. In Vrksayurveda, Surpala also makes reference to manure. According to the Sukra, a plant needs water, meat, excrement from cows, goats, and sheep, among other things, to develop healthily (IV, V, 94, 107-112).
    Holy Quran (590 AD)An indication of harvest and recycling is the return of one-third of the portion removed from the soil.

    Source: Bhattacharya and Chakraborty, 2005

    Organic Farming and Indian Women

    In the arena of Indian culture, a woman is particularly called “Prakriti” which in its literal sense means “Nature”[8]. Prakriti is the feminine essence for conservation, development, and being purely ecological. She is also referred to as “Shakti”, who furnishes energy to steer the living system.

    In present times, the organic farming movement has taken the form of a social movement. India, the holder of the oldest agricultural fields in the entire world where agriculture has been practiced for around 10,000 years, has women as the leaders in organic farming [2]. Indian female farmers devote a significant amount of their work hours on farmlands, which is much above than those invested by male farmers. During the sowing and harvesting seasons, women spend 3300 hours on the fields while men do it for 1860 hours [3]. Women’s contribution to nature supports sustainable development and agricultural systems. This hypothesis develops a stronger bond between women and organic farming.

    In the Odagaon region of Nayagarh district, Odisha, an area of 90 acres of degraded forest has been transformed into a forest that provides food for the nearby population. The idea of change was first sown in Sabarmatee’s mind in the 1980s, when she began experimenting with her father on the land for cultivating organic food [5]. Later, when the efforts started to bear fruit, a non-governmental organization called Sambhav was founded. Today, this organization is aimed at promoting ecological conversation, women capacity, and organic farming. Sabarmatee has done a brilliant job of collecting and preserving 800 varieties of seeds of indigenous origin, which have a strong relationship in combating climate change. Greater than 30 varieties of seeds withstood the cyclonic storms between the time periods 2013-2014.

    Rohibai Popre has the face of a leader of the organic farming movement in Maharashtra [9]. Without any formal education, Rohibai has been successful in leading a women-oriented agro-biodiversity initiative. She has cultivated 17 crop varieties on 50 acres of farmland and shares her knowledge with 3,500 farmers. Her seed bank is meant for the conservation of 122 landraces of 32 crop varieties.

    Bibi Kamaljit Kaur made her endeavor in the field of organic products and farming. Around 39% of the soil in Punjab is absolutely degraded owing to over irrigation. In 2019–20 and 2020–21, the use of pesticides was 4995 MT (technical grade) and 5193 MT (technical grade), respectively, in the state of Punjab [1]. With keeping in mind the paramount damage caused to the environment from the aforementioned factor, organic farming being done by Bibi Kamaljit Kaur in Punjab has assisted in breaking the toxic web of inorganic farming based on pesticide and chemical use. After participating in a seminar by the Agriculture Heritage Mission, Bibi Kaur learned about the negative impacts of pesticides on the environment and human health. Soon she got trained and well-informed about organic farming and started to practice the same in her kitchen garden. She had reached farmers from over 20 neighboring villages and imparted knowledge about the deadly consequences of using harmful chemical fertilizers. Inspired by her, the villages of Bhotna, Malliya, and Chughan have undergone a shift towards organic farming. Presently, she has received overwhelming support from 2000 women farmers and runs 2000 organic kitchen gardens.

    Two villages named Damodarpur and Murakhati in the Jhargram district of West Bengal narrate the revolutionary stories of two women organic cultivators.Panchabati BaskeandNirmala Mahato have seeded organic indigenous rice varieties in their individual villages. These women organic farmers are leading movements at the grassroots level. 55 male and 21 female farmers are each associated with them in Damodarpur and Murakhati villages, helping and making each other realize the power of organic agriculture and womanhood [7]. Rice varieties, namely Kalabhat, Sathia, Kerala Sundari, and Mallifullo, are being grown in the district. With time, the number of women organic cultivators has increased to over 4500 in all 5 gram panchayats of Block Nayagram in the district Jhargram. As per Panchabati, they are saving Rs 4000-Rs 5000 per bigha[1] in relation to fertilizers, and there is hardly any difference witnessed in the crop yield. For additional income plates made up of sal leaves are sold by the women supported by the women enterprise Aamon.

    Conclusion

    Organic farming has done the work of improving women’s role in Indian agriculture. The above-listed real-life examples are a clear indication of the same. This process of women’s involvement in organic farming needs to be constantly ameliorated. Active entrepreneurship opportunities, education, social and environmental justice, equity, farming rights, training, and skill development are some of the ways that can assure their vital contribution to organic farming. This must continue.

    References

    1. CONSUMPTION OF CHEMICAL PESTICIDES IN VARIOUS STATES/UTs DURING 2017-18 TO 2021-22. (2022, July 22). Directorate of Plant Protection, Quarantine, and Storage, Ministry of Agriculture and Farmers Welfare, Government of India. https://ppqs.gov.in/statistical-database
    2. Fernandes, S. (2017, June 17). Farming took root in India only 10,000 years ago, study finds. Hindustan Times. https://www.hindustantimes.com/mumbai-news/farming-took-root-in-india-only-10-000-years-ago-study-finds/story znhMgOYjQOWWtgX49PkUsJ.html
    3. Kamdar, B. (n.d.). Women grow as much as 80% of India’s food – but its new farm laws overlook their struggles. The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/women-grow-as-much-as-80-of-indias-food-but-its-new-farm-laws-overlook-their-struggles-155083
    4. Organic Agriculture: What is organic agriculture? (n.d.). https://www.fao.org/organicag/oa-faq/oa-faq1/en/
    5. Padma Shri For Father-Daughter Who Transformed Wasteland Into A Forest. (n.d.). NDTV.com. https://www.ndtv.com/offbeat/padma-shri-for-father-daughter-radha-mohan-and-sabarmatee-who-transformed-wasteland-into-a-forest-2175441
    6. Scialabba, N. & C. Hattam, Eds. (2002). Organic agriculture, environment and food security. Environment and Natural Resources Series. Rome, Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO). (n.d.-b). http://www.sciepub.com/reference/90645
    7. Singh, S. S. (2022, August 21). Women farmers of Bengal’s Jhargram reap fortunes with organic rice. The Hindu. https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/other-states/women-farmers-reap-fortunes-with-organic-indigenous-rice-varieties-in-bengals-jhargram/article65790956.ece
    8. The Incarnate Word. (n.d.). https://incarnateword.in/dict/sans/prakriti-1
    9. Wikipedia contributors. (2022, July 25). Rahibai Soma Popere. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rahibai_Soma_Popere

    [1] Bigha is a unit for land measurement in northern India.

    Sonali Sharma is the author of this post.

  • The Eco-Gender Gap: When Sustainability Became a Women’s Issue

    The Eco-Gender Gap: When Sustainability Became a Women’s Issue

    When looking at the faces of the sustainability movement, what do you see? A campaign for environmental justice that is synonymous with names like Jane Goodall, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Greta Thunberg, Autumn Petlier, Vanessa Nakate, and Sylvia Earle. Companies dedicated to sustainability, such as Blueland, Stasher, and Bite are led by Sarah Paiji Yoo, Kat Nouri, and Lindsay McCormick, respectively. Women are the advocates, voices of change, and the ones paving the future.

    This trend is called the eco-gender gap, a term created by British marketing company Mintel to describe the “difference in environmental awareness and eco-friendly behavior between men and women, with men being much less likely to feel connected to these issues than women” (Liddell, 2021). Sustainability has become a women’s issue, and in turn, their responsibility. Much of this plays into gender roles, gender-based personality differences, and marketing, as corporations provide gendered messages about sustainability.

    The authors of “Is Eco-Friendly Unmanly? The Green-Feminine Stereotype and Its Effect on Sustainable Consumption,” published in Journal of Consumer Research in 2016, examined this systemic issue, delving deep into working to find the root cause of why the majority of men will not purchase sustainable products. Their studies asked men and women to designate products as either “green” or “non-green”, “feminine” or “masculine”, to choose a product as “better for the environment” or “better at performing ___”, and to gauge affinity for eco-conscious wording and imagery. Across all metrics, green products almost always equated to femininity and were therefore avoided by men. Associating greenness with femininity may also explain why “women display greater concern and willingness to take action to help the environment… across age groups and countries… in contrast, men litter more, recycle less, have a larger overall carbon footprint, and feel less guilty about living a non-green lifestyle” (Brough et al., 2016). There are larger repercussions of this association, as it “may discourage men from engaging in green behaviors, particularly if they are motivated to maintain a macho image and wish to avoid being stereotyped as feminine” (Brough et al., 2016).

    Men feeling turned away from sustainable products parallels women feeling drawn in. Though women might in part feel inclined to make sustainable choices to enhance their femininity, they also face more “eco-anxiety,” a chronic fear of environmental doom (American Psychological Association). Globally, women are more susceptible to the effects of climate change, despite men causing more environmental damage, from avoiding sustainable practices like recycling or using less electricity where possible to engaging in “petro-masculinity,” a denial-rooted, climate-destructive reaction – from mostly white, politically conservative men –  to the fear of environmental crisis where they choose to consume the most pollutant energy in response to being told to reduce (Nelson, 2020).  Natural disasters disproportionately affect people in poverty, which is often communities of women, children, elderly, and disabled people. Studies have even shown that “gender-based violence, including physical, psychological, and reproductive violence against women, becomes more prevalent after natural disasters, with complex… consequences on health and well-being” (Gloor et al., 2022). Researchers have also seen an uptick in hormonal imbalance disorders such as polycystic ovary syndrome linked to the consumption of endocrine-disrupting microplastics. Microplastics were also just discovered in breast milk (Ragusa et al., 2022). On the consumer side, women are told their bodies are hurting the earth, from cosmetics to menstrual products, and told to make better – often more expensive – choices before it is too late. Perhaps most importantly, women are typically the main caregivers to their children, who will grow up in a polluted world. Creating a better future for their well-being is the most influential drive of them all.

    The first step in closing the eco-gender gap is to normalize men caring about the climate. In the consumer product industry, companies themselves create much of the issue. Women predominantly assume responsibility for purchasing goods for the household, and thus the items are tailored to them. Some of the most prominent sustainable products are for cleaning, cosmetics, clothing, storage, and office supplies, categories falling within a woman’s stereotypical responsibilities. Men can feel uncatered to and simply avoid sustainability for fear of being seen as feminine. This pattern appears repeatedly and ranges from choosing vegan or vegetarian diets to bringing a reusable shopping bag to a store. These trends have been helpful in spreading awareness, but it is crucial that all genders climb aboard.

    The authors of “Is Eco-Friendly Unmanly?…” designed a solution to address the eco-gender gap: explicitly catering eco-conscious services and products to men. In an experiment with two hypothetical conservation nonprofits, one called Friends of Nature with a tree logo (feminine directed) and one called Wilderness Rangers with a wolf logo (masculine directed), it was found that though both nonprofits carried the same values, Wilderness Rangers attracted more men (Brough et al., 2016). Additionally, they found that while Friends of Nature attracted women yet turned men away, men and women were similarly likely to donate to Wilderness Rangers (Brough et al., 2016). If women are not deterred by clear masculine branding, perhaps this is a solution in catering to everyone.

    As we look at sustainability, we must remember that its core value is caring for the earth. In our patriarchal society, women are assigned the role of caregivers, and the idea of sustainability being a “women’s issue” is “already insidious due to the persistent portrayal of women as caregivers – even of the planet” (Abbiss & Hunt, 2020). Men often hold the most power, especially leading companies responsible for pollution. Watching nineteen-year-old Greta Thunberg in a room of older men encapsulates the gender-based power dynamic embedded in environmental dicussion, demostrating “for climate skeptics, it was not [only] the environment that was threatened; it was a certain kind of modern industrial society built and dominated by their form of masculinity” (Abbiss & Hunt, 2020). Women will continue to lead the way and make change, and thankfully, younger generations of men seem more open to sustainable practices as our livelihoods are eminently threatened. While we have many advocates, women are still outnumbered in many spaces where it counts most. Women make up 27% of STEM roles, 29% of corporate senior management roles, and 25% of US congressional roles. It is especially crucial to open more opportunities for women to bring sustainability issues to the forefront and provide the necessary support to create change.

    As the need to live sustainably grows omnipresent, it is important to remember that everyone – regardless of gender – is responsible for working towards a solution. Society needs to move closer to making sustainability a movement everyone feels welcomed, affirmed, and empowered.

    Bibliography

    Ballew, M., Marlon, J., Leiserowitz, A., & Maibach, E. (2018, December 12). Gender

    Differences in Public Understanding of Climate Change. Yale Program on Climate Change Communication. Retrieved October 4, 2022, from https://climatecommunication.yale.edu/publications/gender-differences-in-public-und erstanding-of-climate-change/

    Brough, A. R., Wilkie, J. E., Ma, J., Isaac, M. S., & Gal, D. (2016). Is Eco-Friendly Unmanly? The Green-Feminine Stereotype and its Effect on Sustainable Consumption. Journal of Consumer Research, 43(4), 567–582. https://doi.org/10.1093/jcr/ucw044

    Gloor, J. L., Mestre, E. B., Post, C., & Ruigrok, W. (2022, July 26). We Can’t Fight Climate Change Without Fighting for Gender Equity. Harvard Business Review. Retrieved October 4, 2022, from https://hbr.org/2022/07/we-cant-fight-climate-change-without-fighting-for-gender-eq uity

    Hunt, E., & Abbiss, R. (2020, February 6). The Eco Gender Gap: Why is Saving the Planet Seen as Women’s Work? The Guardian. Retrieved October 4, 2022, from https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2020/feb/06/eco-gender-gap-why-savingplanet-seen-womens-work

    Liddell, A. (2021, May 7). The Eco-Gender Gap. Cherwell. Retrieved October 4, 2022, from https://cherwell.org/2021/05/07/the-eco-gender-gap/

    Mintel Press Team. (2018, July 27). UK Women Try to Live More Ethically Than Men. Mintel. Retrieved October 4, 2022, from https://www.mintel.com/press-centre/social-and-lifestyle/the-eco-gender-gap-71-of-w omen-try-to-live-more-ethically-compared-to-59-of-men

    Nelson, J. (2020). Petro‐Masculinity and Climate Change Denial Among White, Politically Conservative American Males. International Journal of Applied Psychoanalytic Studies, 17(4), 282–295. https://doi.org/10.1002/aps.1638

    Piyatissa, Y. (2021, May 22). What Is The Eco Gender Gap and How Can We Bridge It? IVolunteer International. Retrieved October 4, 2022, from

    Ragusa, A., Notarstefano, V., Svelato, A., Belloni, A., Gioacchini, G., Blondeel, C.,

    Zucchelli, E., De Luca, C., D’Avino, S., Gulotta, A., Carnevali, O., & Giorgini, E.

    (2022, June 30). Raman Microspectroscopy Detection and Characterisation of

    Microplastics in Human Breastmilk. Polymers (Basel). 2022 Jun 30;14(13):2700. doi:

    10.3390/polym14132700. PMID: 35808745; PMCID: PMC9269371. Retrieved

    October 29, 2022, from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC9269371/

    Wallis, J. (2021, July 26). Why Do Women Experience More Eco-Anxiety Than Men? Is There A Sustainability Gender Gap? Retrieved October 4, 2022, from https://www.refinery29.com/en-au/sustainability-gender-gap

    Sophie Bravo is the author of this post.

  • A Case for Denise Levertov as an Ecofeminist

    A Case for Denise Levertov as an Ecofeminist

    Ecofeminism was not refined in its usage until the 1980’s when Levertov was losing popularity as a poet, so it is unlikely she ever would have used this term in her life (ignoring the fact that she did not want to be labelled as a feminist in the first place), however, her work and personal ideologies closely aligns with the general theories of ecofeminism established and refined throughout her lifetime. Most ecofeminist work written during the ’70s centres around “dualisms such as woman-nature that worked in opposition to that of men-culture” (Estévez-Saá and Lorenzo-Modia 126). These dualisms are the subject of many of Levertov’s early poems such as “Losing Track” and “Stepping Westward,” making her one of the trailblazers of this movement.

    Many of Levertov’s poems use the moon or tides as a metaphor for celebrating her innate femininity, which follows one of Gretchen Legler’s, an ecofeminist literary critic, “emancipatory strategies” of ecofeminist criticism. In Levertov’s “Stepping Westward,” she says, “If woman is inconstant, /good, I am faithful to/ ebb and flow” (lines 3–5). The “ebb and flow” suggests images of tides, oceans, and water. Tides are controlled by the moon, which is a common motif for femininity. This image, coupled with her statement that it is good if a woman is “inconstant,” ever-changing, and unfaithful, shows a devotion to nature and its reflection of her inner femininity. In this poem, Levertov expresses the joy she finds in being a woman, the sense of self-sufficiency she feels, and the stability of her innate femininity in her life.

    The forces of water are powerful and are always tied to femininity in Levertov’s work. Water is controlled by the moon in many of her poems, suggesting a devotion to this feminine power. Water often exposes dreams and acts as a source of creativity, while removing men and patriarchal forces in Levertov’s work. These images of water are important because they blur the “boundaries between inner (emotional, psychological, personal) and outer (geographic landscapes),” which is one of Legler’s emancipatory strategies, an ecofeminist way to think about the relationships between women and nature (Estévez-Saá and Lorenzo-Modia 140).

    Not many of Levertov’s poems take a direct, feminist approach. Many of her poems, like “Losing Track,” encode ecofeminist values through the description of personal experience. In “Losing Track,” the speaker describes the tide as a force that takes a lover (presumably a man) away from her and exposes her dreams. Levertov puts her readers in a surreal experience in “The Room,” relying on the senses to make a feminine experience. Levertov adheres to Leger’s strategy of blurring boundaries between woman and nature in “Losing Track” as well. The poem ends with the image of “mud sucking at gray and black/ timbers of me,/ a light growth of green dreams drying” (Levertov lines 16–18). In this poem, the speaker is a pier, and the “green dreams” are moss on her piles (line 18). This moss is only exposed when her feminine force, the tide, takes her presumably male lover away. From this imagery, we infer that she is only able to see her dreams clearly when the presence of a man is removed. She is only free to explore her “green dreams” when the influence of the patriarchy is gone from her life and the tide has taken her love away (line 18). Levertov uses Leger’s strategies by blurring the lines between women’s inner desire and nature in both “Losing Track” and “Stepping Westward.”

    In both “Stepping Westward” and “Losing Track” Levertov associates the colour green with feminine dreams. “Stepping Westward” opens with the lines “What is green in me/ darkens, muscadine” (Levertov lines 1–2). Muscadine is a plant, a grapevine that produces grapes used to make wine. These grapes are green when unripe and turn a dark purple as they ripen. The colour green is often associated with fertility and growing, while the colour purple is often associated with power and wealth. As the speaker in this poem is “Stepping Westward,” an idea long associated with the American dream, her dreams ripen or begin to come to fruition. The idea that the speaker is stepping into her power and passing through the stage of growth or fertility in her life into a place where she can “hold steady” is conveyed completely through images of the natural world (Levertov line 11). Levertov’s images work as a metaphor for a woman’s ambitions and dreams, blurring the boundaries between nature and human, because the woman is the plant in this metaphor.

    Most early ecofeminist writers operated with “dualisms” as mentioned earlier. These dualisms are consistent in Levertov’s work. In her “Stepping Westward,” Levertov contrasts the bliss of being a woman with the “burdens” being “gifts, goods, a basket/ of bread that hurts.” These images are items to be bought, sold, and consumed; products of a capitalist society that tie the speaker to a system that she is “inconstant” to (lines 3, 26, 28, and 29). Similarly, in “Losing Track,” the speaker aligns herself as a manmade structure, a pier, to symbolize that she is a product of the patriarchy. She, a pier, is “half-in half-out of the water,” suggesting that she is partly feminine, partly masculine. The speaker also compares her lover to a boat, a manmade symbol of technology, the opposite of nature. When this lover comes to her, she loses track of the moon, her femininity, and the tide takes her lover away, exposing her “green dreams.” The presence of masculine, capitalistic forces in the speaker’s life made her forget her femininity and dreams. These images and metaphors reiterate Levertov’s dislike for the patriarchy and distaste for its degradation of women.

    Levertov’s work demonstrates a deep awareness of the effects the patriarchy can have on women through dualism and exposes a dislike for those effects. While she disliked the label of feminist and preferred her work to be thought of holistically, the values expressed in her poetry are that of an ecofeminist. Her subtle connection of woman to nature and reverent tone when describing the natural world indicate her as a pioneer in ecofeminism.

    Works Cited

    Estévez-Saá, Margarita, and María Jesús Lorenzo-Modia. “The Ethics and Aesthetics of Eco-Caring: Contemporary Debates on Ecofeminism(S).” Women’s Studies, vol. 47, no. 2, Mar. 2018, pp. 123–46. doi.org/10.1080/00497878.2018.1425509.

    Jarman, Mark. “Lives of a Poet: Denise Levertov.” The Hudson Review, www.hudsonreview.com/2014/02/lives-of-a-poet-denise-levertov/#.YuxJU3bMK3C. Accessed July 15, 2022.

    Levertov, Denise. “Hypocritical Women.” Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42524/hypocrite-women. Accessed July 15, 2022.

    —. “Losing Track.” Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=29543. Accessed July 15, 2022.

    —.  “The Room.” Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=27828. Accessed July 15, 2022.

    —. “Stepping Westward.” All Poetry, www.allpoetry.com/poem/8503363-Stepping-Westward-by-Denise-Levertov. Accessed July 15, 2022.

    —.  “The Well.” Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=28573. Accessed July 15, 2022.

    Siwatch, Pooja. “Ecofeminism and Value Based Social Economy in Feminine Literature: Allied Resistance to the Age of Anthropocene.” Research Horizons, vol. 7, July 2017, pp. 57–63. Academic Search Complete, https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=sso&db=a9h&AN=138606072&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

    Abigail Zajac is the author of this post.

  • Can Indian Ecofeminists be “Ethically” Vegan?

    Can Indian Ecofeminists be “Ethically” Vegan?

    A 2019 report by IndiaSpend stated that since 2012 more than 133 instances of cow vigilantism have been reported, with 50 deaths and 290 injuries (Team IndiaSpend). Cow vigilantism is a form of violent, sectarian activism that aims to prohibit eating beef and/or engaging in beef-related transactions. Among the victims, 57% were Muslims, 9% Dalits and 9% Hindus. In 2016, two women in Haryana were gang-raped on the pretext of being beef-eating Muslims (BBC News). Human rights activist, Bondita Acharya, was threatened with rape and acid attacks by the fundamentalist organisation Bajrang Dal in 2017 for commenting that even “higher caste Hindus” consume beef, and Muslims should not be singled out for punishment (Wire Staff). In the light of the aforementioned statistical data on the interconnection between cow vigilantism and sexual abuse, I would like to explore two crucial questions of personal ethics: is veganism the approach to become an ecofeminist in India? Two, where do animal rights and human rights overlap within the Indian vegan movement?

    While the aggression that fuels the urge to protect cows is alarming, it also raises questions as to why the violence is singularly directed against consumers or dealers of beef. Notably, it appears that instances of “goat vigilantism” or “pork vigilantism” are unheard of. Most Indians who abstain from beef-eating do indulge in pork and mutton.

    Cow vigilantism is not fuelled by compassion for the non-human or to reduce the carbon footprint produced by consuming red meat, but by religious beliefs which make Hindus worship cows as their mother. Most Hindus try countering beef-eating with pork-eating, emphasising that if Muslims abstain from pork, then Hindus should abstain from beef too. Such selective environmentalism seeks to oppress religious and other social minorities whose access to basic nourishment is already severely restricted by inflation, and now by verdicts from self-proclaimed “godmen”[i] wielding their powerful tools to ostracise the non-conformists. It does not promote environmental awareness.

    Where does veganism stand in this nexus of religion, caste, class, and politics? Most Indian vegans trace veganism to Hinduism and Jainism – the primary advocates of vegetarianism. However, they gloss over an important aspect of the dietary restrictions advocated by these religions: none of these ask you to switch to a plant-based diet. Hindu scriptures like Valmiki’s Ramayana and the Adi Parva of Mahabharata even talk of Kamadhenu, the Divine Mother Cow, the Hindu equivalent of the fabled golden goose, who could be milked every time her owner, Vashistha rishi, wanted material amenities. Kamadhenu was regarded to be closely related to Mother Earth or Prithivi- so harnessing the mother cow for material benefits had a subtextual implication of milking/exploiting the earth for human consumption. In fact, the history of untouchability in India is rooted in beef consumption. B.R Ambedkar, India’s pioneering anti-caste activist describes in his book The Untouchables, how Brahmins, who once ate horse-meat from Ashvamedha, beef of sacrificed cows, and honey-slathered cow and goat meat in “madhuparka”, quit meat to resist Buddhism and Jainism, – religions which staunchly advocated compassion towards nature, soil and non-human animals (Ambedkar 89). However, the Dalits or the untouchables were not allowed to practise agriculture, for fear of polluting the soil with their touch, so, to their lot, fell the carcass of the dead animals, after they had served their purpose to the caste Hindus.

    As an ecofeminist, when I started experimenting with vegan foods, these were the problems that I had to grapple with. Why was nobody talking about the problematic equation of the cow with the mother? Hindu feminists like the Kailaasa.org often claim that worshipping the cow and abstaining from eating its meat is a move towards the empowerment of women, for it involves respecting the mother figure through the non-human (Kailaasa Hindu Feminism). Similarly, non-Hindu critics writing on this intersection, such as Peter Sondheim, write that feminists should protest the abuse of dairy cows (Sondheim). Such compassion for animals and protest against animal suffering can lead to an ecofeminist conversation, yet it fails to do so.

    Ecofeminism primarily seeks to dispel patriarchal notions of reducing the human as well as the non-human to their reproductive functions. Greta Gaard adopts this approach of ecofeminism in her definition of vegetarian ecofeminism by saying, “Vegetarian ecofeminism puts into action the feminist insight that “the personal is political” and examines the politic of dietary choices as well as strategic and operational choices in economics” (117). When she asks about what prevents ecofeminists from giving a political direction to their compassion for animals, she commits the fallacy of assumption from a Western purview.

    What Greta Gaard has overlooked in her critique, was the socio-political nuances that inform animal rights activism in the Indian subcontinent. I have always wondered if the passion for protecting cows in India would be so heightened if they did not produce milk, a main source of nourishment and financial revenue in India’s primarily agrarian economy. If vegetarianism is motivated by a utilitarian approach of not murdering the source of nourishment and keeping it alive for man’s own interests, veganism in India aims to be an elite cultural phenomenon of overpriced imported vegan alternatives to locally sourced dairy and meat.

    Indian veganism cannot be scrutinised under Western eyes. One needs to assess India’s nutritional graph and economy to understand why Western veganism will fail unless modified to suit the socio-economic climate of a country whose Gross Development Product (GDP) has been steadily declining and the value of the rupee falling to an unfathomable low, and where meat-eating can lead to mob-lynching. As Rama Ganesan highlighted, “What the West knows about Hindu vegetarianism has been controlled by the upper caste narrative, which couches it in terms of Gandhian ahimsa” (Ganesan). It is a hypocritical narrative among Hindu vegetarians to proclaim themselves as followers of “Ahimsa” or “non-violence” where they murder humans for consuming meat.

    Vegan foods like plant-based mock-meat and tofu, are sold, not by local farmers, but by capitalist organizations, at exorbitant rates (Sahani). In a country where the general yearly income is less than 1 lac INR per annum, can we expect mass adoption of vegan foods? Moreover, the levying of taxes on fresh produce makes the vegan diet a mirage for Indians. How shall I, an ecofeminist, then ask them to go vegan even when I know that meat-eating goes against my ecological ethics?

    I cannot ask them to consume the cake of vegan alternatives to their affordable and widely accessible bread when the cake is alienated from them by capitalist monopoly on the food market. And how can I forget the history of caste-class violence that shapes the diet of the Indians who are not caste Hindus? Beef-eating, unlike in the West, does not symbolise prosperity, but a simple fare that nourishes hungry mouths deprived of the expensive vegetables. Nirmala Sitharaman, the Finance Minister of India commented in 2019 that she does not eat much onion or garlic, in response to the rising prices of these two vegetables in India  (Agencies). Sitharaman can afford highly-priced vegetables, unlike the masses. Thus, asking them to adopt veganism is to ask them to starve.

    As an ecofeminist, I would assert the need for sustainable living concept in India, considering the plight of the human and non-human. However, industry-produced vegan foods do no good to the marginalised whose source of meat is locally bred cattle and poultry, or locally sourced fish. Without giving the oppressed Indian a viable reason to adopt veganism, we cannot call ourselves proponents of vegan ecofeminism. And unless we demonstrate how veganism needs to be linked with ecofeminism to enunciate its benefits, we will fail to transform our ecofeminism into praxis. Our obsession with protecting a certain domesticated animal because of our (sexual) reverence for its reproductivity, while endorsing the consumptive exploitation of other animals might not make us hypocritical in the majority’s eyes, but it will certainly put into question the authenticity of our ecofeminism.

    References:

    Agencies. “’I Don’t Eat Much Onion’: Sitharaman in Lok Sabha – Times of India.” The Times of India, TOI, 5 Dec. 2019, 12:28 IST, timesofindia.indiatimes.com/business/india-business/i-dont-eat-much-of-onion-says-sitharaman-in-lok-sabha/articleshow/72379267.cms.

    Ambedkar, B. R. The Untouchables. Siddharth Books, 2008.

    Gaard, Greta Claire. “Vegetarian Ecofeminism: A Review Essay.” Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies, vol. 23, no. 3, 2002, pp. 117–146., doi:10.1353/fro.2003.0006.

    Ganesan, Rama. “Brahminical Patriarchy & Carol Adams’ The Sexual Politics of Meat.” Feminism in India, 10 Sept. 2021, feminisminindia.com/2020/12/25/carol-adams-the-sexual-politics-of-meat-brahminical-patriarchy/.

    “India Muslim Women ‘Raped’ in Fatal Attack ‘over Beef’.” BBC News, BBC, 12 Sept. 2016, www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-37336050.

    Kailasa Hindu Feminism. Worshipping cow on Mother’s Day. Facebook, 10 May 2020. https://m.facebook.com/HinduFeminism/photos/a.359124804952763/606856446846263/?type=3&source=57

    Shahani, Shradha. “7 Indian Mock Meat Brands to Try If You like Mutton, Chicken, Seafood.” Condé Nast Traveller India, Condé Nast Traveller India, 6 Dec. 2020, www.cntraveller.in/story/7-indian-mock-meat-brands-to-try-if-you-like-goa-mutton-chicken-seafood-mumbai-delhi-chennai-hyderabad/.

    Sondheim, Peter. “Op-Ed: The Abuse of Dairy Cows Is a Feminist Issue. the ‘Moo Too’ Movement Is Here.” Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles Times, 4 Mar. 2020, www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2020-03-04/dairy-cows-moo-too-movement-biden.

    Team, IndiaSpend. “Every Third Indian Cop Thinks Mob Violence over Cow Slaughter Is ‘Natural’: New Survey.” Indiaspend, Indiaspend, 28 Aug. 2019, www.indiaspend.com/every-third-indian-cop-thinks-mob-violence-over-cow-slaughter-is-natural-new-survey/.

    Wire Staff. “Assam: Activist Threatened with Rape, Acid Attacks for Condemning Beef Arrests.” The Wire, 10 Apr. 2017, thewire.in/rights/bondita-acharya-beef-bajrang-dal.

    [i] Godmen is a colloquial albeit pejorative term used to describe self-proclaimed gurus with cult following who claim that they are the only ones who have received the word of God. A Hindu godman, Sadhguru asserted in an interview taken by NDTV​ ​Consulting Editor Barkha Dutt that Indian culture has never recommended beef eating. Sadhguru’s use of Indian as a monolithic cultural label is highly debatable, due to the geopolitical diversity and his deliberate choice of the term refers to a subcontinental past prior to the rule of the Muslim emperors.

    Author:

    Debadrita Saha is the author of a blog post.

  • Challenging Mother Nature through the Feminised Imagery of the Moon: An Ecofeminist Reading of Ann Radcliffe and Sylvia Plath

    Challenging Mother Nature through the Feminised Imagery of the Moon: An Ecofeminist Reading of Ann Radcliffe and Sylvia Plath

    Photograph taken by Artist on Unsplash

    This essay explores the ecofeminist characteristics of Ann Radcliffe and Sylvia Plath’s poetry. Employing an ecofeminist lens offers a novel approach to studying their shared vision of nature across literary movements. This essay centres on how the poets challenged the essentialist link between nature and women through Radcliffe’s “Sunset” (1791) and Plath’s “The Moon and the Yew Tree” (1961). Both poems explore empowerment and control of the environment through the feminised imagery of the Moon.

    While critics such as Jane Stabler and Alison Milbank have started to unpack the impact of Radcliffe’s poetry, the ecofeminist characteristics of her verses have remained relatively unaddressed in recent scholarship. In his eco-critical reading of Radcliffe’s novels, Christopher Hitt states that “the visionary is apprehended only in fleeting glimpses, obliquely and indefinitely” (139). The feminised Moon in Radcliffe’s verses, especially the “pale orb” in “Sunset”, is one such example of a “fleeting” and “oblique” symbol of motherhood and the natural world. “Sunset” is a poem narrated by the heroine Adeline in The Romance of the Forest.The twenty-two line single verse poem begins with the onset of Twilight, a soft, obscuring and nurturing female force, characteristic perhaps of an “Edenic Evening” (Milbank 147). The first twelve lines of the poem are devoted to establishing “Ev’ning’s dome”, a space seemingly constructed by female figures who control the transition into the night (Radcliffe 297).

    The appearance of the Moon contrasts with the shadow-casting of Meek Twilight. Countering the gloomy “purple” and “gray” hues, the Moon relights the earth by “throwing her radiance wide” (Radcliffe 297). Her power is concentrated in a sharp and bright “line”, which is at odds with the inky “curling tide”. The “pale orb” ushers in an unpredictable flow of syllables, couplets, and a triplet: 

    Or the Moon’s pale orb appear,
    Throwing her line of radiance wide,
    Far o’er the lightly-curling tide,
    That seems the yellow sands to chide. (Radcliffe 297)

    The unbalanced succession of ‘-ide’ rhymes speaks to wildness in nature. The water commanded by the gravitational force of the moon “chides”, or rather “scolds” the sand, suggestive of raising a child (Johnson 365-6). Radcliffe gives the impression that the guiding hand of the maternal Moon shapes the coast, but this mother figure is not necessarily a gentle force. Her “chiding” juxtaposes the sweep of Meek Twilight’s “shadows” over the landscape. However, the final disruption of the scene comes not from the stars, Moon, or shadowy female figures who have established a silence, but from the distant activities of sailors and oars on the surface of the water. These sounds, which ride the “dying wave,” hail in a masculine gothic presence, immiscible with the evening space (Milbank 147, Passey 194).

    Like Radcliffe’s poetry, ecocriticism remains an under-researched area in Plath’s work, with only a handful of critics, such as Tracy Brain, Scott Knickerbocker, and Irena Ragaišienė, engaging with the ecological aspects of her writings. The figure of the Moon in Plath’s “The Moon and the Yew Tree” challenges the essentialist link between women and nature. Plath wrote the poem in October 1961 in Devon. She reflects on a tree growing next to a churchyard, visible from her office window. The material existence of the tree that still stands in the village of North Tawton highlights that without the natural tree, there are no “trees of the mind” that dominate the speaker’s imagination (Plath 172). “The Moon and the Yew Tree” not only rejects the essentialist view of ‘Mother Nature’ but removes the dominant structure of patriarchy altogether. The four seven-line stanzas are characterised by gothic imagery and isolation. In this ambiguous, feminised landscape, the Yew appears as a death-tree, and the Moon represents the antithesis of the nurturing Christian mother. Christina Britzolakis argues that Plath “inverts Romantic lunar symbolism and refuses empathetic identification” (126). Other critics like Judith Kroll noted the influence of Robert Graves’s The White Goddess in Plath’s Moon-Muse, particularly the Moon as a Triple Goddess, such as Hecate (Kroll 44).

    The use of the female pronoun personifies the Moon and singles it out as the only living subject. The Moon “is bald and wild. / And the message of the yew tree is blackness—blackness and silence” (Plath 173). Here, Plath portrays the Moon as a violent supernatural entity that humans cannot control. Escaping from a male-dominated society symbolised by the physical presence of the church, the speaker desires the ambiguous maternal Moon and the ominous presence of the yew tree. The poem contrasts the Christian religious setting of the churchyard with a pagan Moon-mother, which challenges anthropocentric views of nature: “The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. / Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. / How I would like to believe in tenderness –––” (Plath 173). Here, the Moon signifies the freedom of nature as she’ releases’ the flying creatures into the night. The speaker longs for a mutually respectful and intimate connection, similar to what she perceives to be between the Moon and nature. She questions the legitimacy of the Christian mother figure and prefers the non-hierarchical and authentic maternalism of the Moon, suggesting an ecofeminist reading of the human and nonhuman relationship.

    In Radcliffe and Plath’s poems, the “pale orb” or “White as a knuckle” face of the Moon represents an empowered female force in a gothicised landscape. Although these poets are part of different literary movements, both use a maternal Moon figure to symbolise a challenge to patriarchal structures. Radcliffe achieves this through an environment under female control, where the Moon relights and reshapes the darkened earth. On the other hand, Plath expresses an interest in nature without a dominant human presence, counters the simplicity of a ‘motherly’ Mother Nature, and presents the ambiguous Moon and the deathly Yew as independent entities.

    Works Cited:

    Brain, Tracy. The Other Sylvia Plath. Harlow: Longman, 2001.

    Britzolakis, Christina. “‘Gothic Subjectivity’.” Sylvia Plath. Edited by Harold Bloom. New York: Bloom’s Literary Criticism, 2007. 115-146.

    Hitt, Christopher. “Ecocriticism and the Long Eighteenth Century.” College Literature, vol. 31, no. 3, 2004, pp. 123–47, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25115211. Accessed 19 Apr. 2022.

    Johnson, Samuel. A Dictionary of the English Language: In Which the Words Are Deduced from Their Originals, and Illustrated in Their Different Significations by Examples from the Best Writers. To Which Are Prefixed, A History of the Language, and An English Grammar. 3rd ed., vol. 1, London: Various, 1765, https://link-gale-com.liverpool.idm.oclc.org/apps/doc/CB0131375552/GDCS?u=livuni&sid=bookmark-GDCS&xid=4e749f2d&pg=365.

    Knickerbocker, K. ““Bodied Forth in Words”: Sylvia Plath’s Ecopoetics.” College Literature 36.3 (2009): 1-27.

    Kroll, Judith. Chapters in a Mythology: The Poetry of Sylvia Plath. Stroud: Sutton Publishing, 2007.

    Milbank, Alison. “Milton, Melancholy and the Sublime in the ‘Female’ Gothic from Radcliffe to Le Fanu.” Women’s Writing, vol. 1, no. 2, 1994, pp. 143–60.

    Passey, Joan. “Sound and Silence: The Aesthetics of the Auditory in the Novels of Ann Radcliffe.” Horror Studies, vol. 7, no. 2, Oct. 2016, pp. 189–204, doi:10.1386/host.7.2.189_1.

    Plath, Sylvia. The Collected Poems. Edited by Ted Hughes. New York: HarperCollins, 2008.

    Radcliffe, Ann. The Romance of the Forest. Edited by Chloe Chard, Oxford University Press, 2009.

    Ragaišienė, I. “‘I am not a Tree with my Root in the Soil’: Ecofeminist Revisions of the Tree/Root Dialectics in Sylvia Plath’s Poetry.” Journal of Ecocriticism 1.2 (2009): 31-41.

    Stabler, Jane, ‘Ann Radcliffe’s Poetry: The Poetics of Refrain and Inventory’, in Ann Radcliffe, Romanticism and the Gothic, ed. by Angela Wright and Dale Townshend (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), pp. 185–202 <https://doi.org/DOI: 10.1017/CBO9781139507448.015>

    Authors:

    Dorka Tamás has submitted her PhD thesis at the University of Exeter, which explores the supernatural themes in Sylvia Plath’s poetry. Her research interest includes literary representations of magic and witchcraft and the relationship between the natural environment and supernatural subthemes across literature and culture.

    Roslyn Irving is a PhD candidate co-supervised by the University of Liverpool and XJTLU. Her research centres on Ann Radcliffe’s third novel, The Romance of the Forest and the author’s eighteenth-century socio-political environment.