Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World, 1500—1800 (Part I)

Story Summary:

Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World, 1500—1800 studies how homosexual behavior was perceived and received in the time and place outlined in the title; the author argues that the phrase “homosexual” and its current meaning did not exist during that time, and that “homosexual” behavior was instead broken down into separate actions and mannerisms that took on very different social contexts.

Reflections:

Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World, 1500—1800 offers many notions of how women were viewed in society during that time and place. The most prominent, yet inexplicit depiction of women is very negative; by consistently comparing passive sodomites (who are looked down upon) to women, the text establishes that women were not valued highly. Throughout the text, women, being passive sexual partners, set the bar for how low a man can stoop.

Passive sodomites are often compared to women throughout the text, and neither group is depicted in a positive light. A quote on page 27 reads, “He who sees that his penis is transformed into a vagina, his fortitude and strength will become impotence, weakness, feebleness, and submissiveness.” Another page reads, “A preference for the passive-receptive role in sexual intercourse was seen as the very antithesis of masculinity.” (21) There are countless more examples throughout the text that offer similar ideas—that a passive sodomite, or an effeminate man, sinks to the level of a woman by giving up his masculinity and trading the role of penetrator in for that of the penetrated. The woman is described as “weak,” “feeble,” and “submissive”—something no man should encompass. On page 7, El-Rouayheb writes that people “tended to categorize and evaluate people according to whether they were active or passive in a sexual relation, and not according to the gender of their partners.” Because women are not able to be the “active” sexual party, they are regarded as slightly more valuable than worthless. Similarly, if a man decides to give up his role as the “active” fornicator, he is regarded in the same light. The difference here is a matter of choice; the woman never had the option to be evaluated as “active,” and so all women must have been devalued.

On page 22, El-Rouayheb explains that, “The passive male sodomite was seen as being in possession of a female sex drive, but without any of the constraints imposed on women in a patriarchal, gender-segregated society, and his image in bawdy-humorous works is similar to the image of promiscuous women” (22). This quote provides a direct comparison between passive sodomites and loose women—this portrays women as a whole in both a positive and negative light. On one hand, passive sodomites, who have committed what is described as “one of the most abominable sins a man could commit,” are placed on the exact same level as a promiscuous women (3). The woman, although impure, has only committed a minor crime in comparison to sodomy, and yet is placed on the same level as the male offender. This shows that a woman’s value was significantly low, and her actions were judged on a much harsher scale. On the other hand, women who were not “promiscuous” were regarded more highly than the passive sodomite, which shows that they have some value.

On page 16, however, a scholar noted that, “If carnal penetration of a boy were permitted, men would dispense with women’” (16). This suggests that even sodomites are valued more highly than women, and that women are essentially worthless outside of their ability to give birth. Another quote on page 25 reinforces the notion that women in this society were notably insignificant, when it reads, “Merely by virtue of his biological sex, a man was expected to participate in a world from which women were in principal excluded” (25). Time and time again, women are described as powerless, worthless, and weak. Femininity is the ultimate insult to a man; a passive sodomite is as offensive as a woman.

Words: 597

If Not, Winter - Sappho (Part II)

Story Summary:

Anne Carson’s translation of If Not, Winter is a collection of fragments written by Sappho around 630 B.C.; although much of her work was lost over time, the fragments give insight to her ideas about life’s central themes such as beauty, love, desire, aging, and identity.

Reflections:

Love, passion, desire, and everything related are certainly prevalent throughout Sappho’s writing. Several of Sappho’s fragments specifically mention Eros, who is defined in the glossary as the “god of everything erotic.” His presence and authority in her writings, however, changes dramatically. In some fragments, Sappho presents Eros as very much in control; in others, he’s the powerless one. The amount of power Eros possesses also determines whether he’s regarded as a positive or negative force. These two competing portrayals of Eros suggest that Sappho herself was uncertain about eroticism, desire, and how to accept or reject it.

The first mention of Eros depicts his force in a negative light, as it describes the immense destructive power he possesses. An entire fragment reads, “Eros shook my mind like a mountain wind falling on oak trees” (99). Here, Eros is the subject in power carrying out the action. Sappho describes him as shaking her mind; this parallels the way in which desire is uncontrollable, unexpected, and sometimes unwanted. She possesses no power over this matter—Eros is in control, shaking her as violently as a mountain mind. Although “a mountain wind” could be read as a benevolent force, here it has a destructive tone. The fragment suggests that Eros, symbolizing uncontrollable desire, is a force uninvited.

In another fragment, Sappho seems less certain about Eros; he is pictured in both a positive and a negative light. On page 265, Sappho writes, “Eros the melter of limbs (now again) stirs me—sweetbitter unmanageable creature who steals in.” Some of the sentiment from the previously mentioned fragment remains; Eros certainly remains in control, and he “stirs” her. Once again, he “steals in,” symbolizing the unexpected and immediate way that desire overcomes a person. The word “unmanageable,” as explained in the footnotes, also represents Eros’ power over Sappho; she has no means to escape, because a means to escape doesn’t exist. As in the first fragment, Eros is portrayed as very much in power. We also see the presence of “now again,” which echoes other places in the text and refers to the cyclical nature of the subject. Eros controls Sappho on a recurring basis, and yet here she uses the word “sweetbitter” to describe his force. The “bitter” certainly acknowledges his unwarranted force, but the “sweet” suggests that she somewhat enjoys it. Although desire is controlling and forceful, it can also be enjoyable.

Later, Sappho mentions Eros as being powerless—a deep contrast to the previous two fragments. On page 159, the fragment reads, “Both you and my servant Eros.” Describing Eros as her “servant” is an interesting inverse to his previous role of uncompromising power. Here, Eros is completely under the control of Sappho; he is her “servant.” The fragment has a supremely positive connotation to it, as opposed to the primarily negative ones seen elsewhere. Because Eros is her “servant,” Sappho is in control of her own desire and can use it as she pleases. This makes Eros’ force much more “sweet” than “bitter.”

The competing portrayals of Eros complicate whether Sappho enjoyed or disliked desire’s force. When Eros is described as the subject in control, his force is primarily painted in a negative light. In contrast, the power of desire is described positively when Sappho is the subject in control. Because both depictions of Eros are present, there is not a strong consensus whether desire is predominantly positive or negative; the issue falls somewhere in the middle, as most things tend to do.

Words: 582

If Not, Winter - Sappho

Story Summary:

Anne Carson’s translation of If Not, Winter is a collection of fragments written by Sappho around 630 B.C.; although much of her work was lost over time, the fragments give insight to her ideas about life’s central themes such as beauty, love, desire, aging, and identity.

Reflections:

Sappho offers competing notions of beauty in her writing; although it is one of her most discussed topics, it’s also one of the most versatile.

Beauty is described in several places in terms of youth; to be young is to be beautiful. This echoes what Agathon states in Symposium; Phaedrus is the youngest of the gods, and therefore the most beautiful and the best. The fragment, “beautiful gifts children,” appears on page 121 of If Not, Winter. Although the context of this fragment is missing, Sappho makes a direct connection here between youth and beauty. On page 45, she says, “you will remember for we in our youth did these things—yes many and beautiful things.” Once again she establishes the connection between youth and beauty; beautiful things occurred when she was young, but now in old age seem to be absent—dismissed as a thing of the past.

She confirms this again on page 121, when she repeatedly mentions her old age, saying “all my skin old age already hair turned white after black.” Sappho goes on to say, “but I love delicacy and this to me—the brilliance and beauty of the sun—desire has allotted” (121). A note in the back of the text by Carson suggests that this last line may be alluding to the story of Tithanos; he is so beautiful that he is given immortal life at the request of a goddess but doesn’t receive immortal youth (369). If this story is indeed what Sappho is referring to, then it reinforces the notion that youth (and also love) are defined by beauty. The goddess was drawn to Tithanos because of his beauty, but despite her attempts to procure it for herself, they lost the battle to old age, and beauty diminished. Sappho acknowledges that beauty is fleeting and something enjoyed by the young, but it isn’t forgotten. Yet another instance of this is seen on page 45, where it says, “you will remember for we in our youth did these things—yes many and beautiful things.” Beauty is frequently associated with youth in Sappho’s fragments as something wonderful, but long expired. However, although beauty is lost in old age, it lives on in memory.

Sappho primarily describes beauty referring to physicality; this is definitely true when she defines beauty by youth. She speaks often of Aphrodite and Helen, two women who are symbolic for their outside beauty. However, on page 105, she fleetingly offers a different interpretation of beauty. Although physical beauty is mentioned, inner beauty is the more prominent theme. She says, “For the man who is beautiful is beautiful to see but the good man will at once also beautiful be” (105). For the first time, Sappho connects beauty to inner goodness. Here physical beauty is recognized, but a beautiful personality receives even more recognition. This competes with the strong link Sappho draws between beauty and youth—inner beauty remains even in old age, but previously received no acknowledgement.

Another competing notion of love appears on page 27, where Sappho says, “Some men say an army of horses and some men say an army on foot and some men say an army of ships is the most beautiful thing on the black earth. But I say it is what you love.” Here Sappho defines beauty in terms of love while simultaneously establishing a deep contrast to what is considered masculine. Similarly to Sappho’s discussion on page 105, beauty is defined as intrinsic rather than extrinsic. These two fragments, one defining beauty as love and the other defining beauty as goodness, seem much more correlated than her numerous fragments defining beauty as youth. However, each definition is different and valid in its own way. Although Sappho uses the term “beauty” in many different lights, she uses it so honestly regardless of context that it becomes a versatile term suitable for each situation.

Words: 649

Gilgamesh, Stephen Mitchell

Story Summary:

Gilgamesh, as told by Stephen Mitchell, is an epic about a man 2/3 god and 1/3 human named Gilgamesh, who is unparalleled by any other being until he meets Enkidu; the two men develop a relationship of true friendship and love whilst committing powerful and heroic acts together, until Enkidu dies and Gilgamesh goes on in search of eternal life to escape the same fate.

Reflections:

As I was reading Gilgamesh, I concentrated specifically on the language concerning Gilgamesh and Enkidu’s relationship. The three most common words I found describing their relationship are “friends,” “brothers,” and “beloved.” “Beloved” suggests a love relationship paralleling that of a husband and wife, while “brothers” and “friends” suggest a relationship intimate in a different way. The epic seems to establish their relationship as more homosocial than homosexual; a physical desire for one another is only fleetingly suggested. The strongest example of this seems to be on page 83, where it reads, “You will take him in your arms, embrace and caress him the way a man caresses his wife.” On page 90, the two men kiss. Oftentimes throughout the story they hold hands. However, besides these debatable signs, the book does not seem to establish their love as definitively homosexual. There are many direct signs that portray the opposite; for example, Enkidu’s repetitive love making with Shamhat and Gilgamesh’s claim to every girl’s virginity.

The epic does, however, establish that their love is true and lasting. It also offers up a distinct contrast to love/lust with a woman. On page 132, Gilgamesh refuses Ishtar’s marriage proposal, questioning, “What will happen to me when your heart turns elsewhere and your lust burns out?” Women’s love is outlined here as fleeting, cruel, and fake. Ishtar cannot love a man unconditionally; she becomes bored with them and disposes of them cruelly, only to repeat the process. Gilgamesh’s love for Enkidu is quite the opposite; it is consistently established as everlasting. They pledge to always be there for one another. Even after Enkidu dies, Gilgamesh says, “I will mourn for him as long as I breathe” (152). Their love continues, even after death. In this way, the story seems to argue that the love relationship between two males is stronger than that of a man and a woman.

However, the last portion of the epic after Enkidu’s death complicates the notion of true love for me. Gilgamesh is clearly heartbroken for Enkidu and his love for him lives on; however, his one true focus from that point seems to be entirely selfish. As he sees Enkidu dead, he puts more anguish into fearing for his own life than mourning his beloved “friend” and “brother.” Instead of yearning to die to stop the pain of loss, or attempt to join Enkidu in the underworld, Gilgamesh travels to the end of the earth to seek eternal life. Enkidu’s death seems to scare him more than upset him; this calls into question how unconditionally Gilgamesh loved Enkidu. Although the story supplies evidence throughout that Gilgamesh and Enkidu had the strongest love bond possible, it ends suggesting the contrary. I am uncertain which argument is stronger, yet I am still lead to believe that Gilgamesh truly loved Enkidu, more than he could have loved any other being.

Words: 547