Feminism

“Riflessioni semiserie da dantedì ovvero la lezione di Beatrice”, Antonella Valoroso (2021)

April 11, 2022 By Harrison Betz, FSU '25

“Mentre tramonta il sole sul dantedì2021, in quella che per Dante è ‘’l’ora che volge il disìo’, mi viene in mente che, nonostante il mio ininterrotto amore per il divino poeta, non ho mai provato a pensare a Dante in una prospettiva femminista. Ed ecco che TRE riflessioni si accavallano e si intrecciano l’una all’altra, proprio come i versi delle terzine della Commedia.

“Riflessione numero uno, ispirata dalle illustrazioni dell’Inferno di Gustave Doré. Riflessione numero due, ispirata dal dipinto ‘Francesca di Rimini nell’inferno dantesco’ di Nicola Monti, recentemente acquisito dalla Galleria degli Uffizi. Riflessione numero tre, ispirata dai versi 7-12 del XVII canto del Paradiso.

“Buon dantedì (e e ogni altro giorno) a tutte le donne e a tutti gli uomini che non hanno paura di dare voce propri pensieri e al proprio disìo!” [. . .] –Antonella Valoroso, Corriere, March 27, 2021 (retrieved April 11, 2022)

To read Valoroso’s full reflections, visit the full article here.

Reading Dante as a Feminist

July 18, 2019 By Gabriel Siwady '19

“Classical literature has numerous inherent values and should still be extensively read by today’s readers. Still, despite my love for Dante, I would argue that it also essential to read classical literature with a critical eye, especially as our concepts of human rights and equality have greatly transformed since these works were written.

“Metamorphosis is traditionally typically about erotic, passionate love. Eros, this type of sinful love, is a subject that Dante explores extensively in the Divine Comedy. Dante studied Ovid extensively and engages with Ovid’s works in La Commedia. In his epic poem, Dante challenges Ovid and transfigures this process of transformation — often shaping metamorphoses into a perverted punishment of sin. Dante explicitly uses metamorphosis as a cruel, twisted form of punishment. Thieves transform into snakes and those who committed suicide are perversely turned into bushes and trees. Further parallels to Ovid can be drawn in Dante’s hell. Daphne was rendered a tree for all eternity — just as those in the circle of suicide were cruelly revoked from their human form.

“In the Inferno, the circle of Lust is predominantly full of women, including Cleopatra, Dido, Helen of Troy and Francesca. Though Dante engages with a few famous male literary characters — such as Paris and Achilles — in this circle, Francesca gives the longest soliloquy. Francesca is one of the few women in La Commedia to be given so many lines, and yet her identity and actions are tied to two male figures. Francesca was killed by her husband when he caught her having an affair with her brother. Dante portrays Francesca as a beautiful, gentle seductress–even the poet temporarily succumbs to her enchanting words. Although Francesca’s story provides interesting commentary on the constraints of love and society, it is unfortunate that Francesca is one of the only dominant female voices in the Inferno. Dante’s work would be more nuanced if he developed other female characters whose roles were not tied to lust and sexual temptation. ” […] –Sophie Stuber, The Stanford Daily, June 4, 2018

Monique Wittig, “Across the Acheron” (1987)

July 7, 2009 By D. N. Israel

“Serving as her own protagonist, Wittig. . . confronts implications of female oppression as she struggles against gale winds and knifelike sands on her way to Acheron, the river of tears. Led by a woman always referred to as ‘Manastabel, my guide,’ ‘Mana’ embodies the idea of universal order. Wittig’s alter ego passes through various circles of Hell and Limbo, occasionally ascending to such earthly gathering places as a laundromat and a parade ground. Wherever she goes, she sees women flogged and tortured, castrated and dismembered, collared, chained and dragged unprotesting by their male masters through streets awash with blood, bones and excrement.

“In the midst of feasting, the women starve, dragging their emaciated bodies to serve their masters and afterwards licking up the half-chewed bits of skin and gristle, the spewed-out bones. Yet in the Angels’ Kitchen the copper gleams, the fruits glisten, cauldrons bubble, and the women chorus, ‘Soup, beautiful soup.’ A Guernica of the human (feminist) condition, a blacker, bleaker, more vengeful Alice’s tea party, this is a novel as graphic as a painting, whose brilliance its translators have creditably preserved.” —Publishers Weekly (retrieved on July 7, 2009)

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