Week 10: Oceanic Thinking

Eric Paul Roorda reconceptualizes the watery world and our interaction with it in an ocean-centric perspective, in The Ocean Reader: Theory, Culture, Politics, “Introduction.” One of the main tenets that we have become familiar with in our class in respect to the Ocean, when discussing blue humanities, is acknowledging the fact that the Ocean has a history, that is ancient and continuously changing. Our own human history has encompassed only a small fraction of the Oceans history, the same way that the land is only a fraction compared to the area the ocean covers. This is echoed by Roorda, but what drew me in, was how he pushed the ocean centric perspective by dismantling the human imposed borders, and reminding us of the Ocean as a connected body:

“There is one big Ocean, and while its regions have been conceptualized as separate bodies of water and named as different Oceans, the fact is, they are all connected, and seawater travels widely and endlessly across these artificial geographic markers (p.2-3)” 

By explaining the interconnectedness of the Ocean, in a top down fashion (from the earths rotation affecting the movement of air and water, to the patterns of winds and currents that we have named, etc.), Roorda brings focus to the intimate way that we are connected to the movements of the Ocean and the watery world. These movements which we have endeavored to understand throughout our human history; present in oral stories, science, politics, and written histories and literature, function outside of our control, and affect our daily life.

Most importantly, Roorda reminds us that despite the majesty of the Ocean, our interactions with it, our use of it as a tool for imperialism, hunting, and industrialized fishing, have injured and altered the systems we depend upon for survival. These systems we have had a hand in harming, are capable of humbling and harming us : seen in the frequent natural disasters, storms, rising water levels, and recession of fish populations, which millions depend on as a food source. This introduction is a call for us to reanalyze, and revitalize our relationship with the Ocean, as a present figure in our everyday lives, that connects us to every living being, from the shore and beyond, and sustains all life through it’s intricate movements.

Rusalochka: The Soviet Russian Era Little Mermaid

The Little Mermaid – directed by. Ivan Aksenchuk (1968/Soviet Animation) (ENGLISH & TURKISH CC)

What does it mean, if there was no happy ending for the Little Mermaid, and the memory of her was swallowed up into the sea? The 1968 Soviet Animation of The Little Mermaid, Rusalochka, does not shy away from the mermaid’s tragic fate, and in doing so tells a moralizing story about knowing one’s place, or striving to live through love and compassion. This tragic ending and the interpretation of it is divided between two lenses, the fish who views the little mermaids death as a tragedy and a waste, and a Danish tour guide who considers it a story of love, courage, and kindness, told to a group of tourists. Despite the conflicting views on her death, her fate is nonetheless tragic, but her sacrifice is regarded by humans as heroic, thus this version acknowledges her mark on history through her memorialization, both through sculpture and song. This version allows the exploration of mermaids’ autonomy by giving her a voice and a song, where the book was unable to convey the splendor of her voice. As a children’s story, it becomes a tool to bridge humanity and the soul of the ocean. The little mermaid reaches out to us and teaches humans kindness, love, and compassion, where humanity lacks it despite having a soul.

“The surf beats against the black rocks

Life is hard for humans, this everlasting struggle

But I believe drop by drop, your vitality will return

The first drop will be strength

The second drop will be joy

The beautiful should not perish,

The brave should not perish

They should not, they should not die”

This lamentation is heard when she originally saves the prince; it is her song. It is heard again only after she dies and is reclaimed by the ocean. Unfortunately, she is only briefly mourned by the prince, who mistakes her song as coming from his new bride. This poetic addition brings the focus of the story back to the fact that the Little Mermaid held a bountiful understanding and empathy for human life, culture, and beauty.

The ending differs from the original story by Hans Christiaan Anderson, where her sisters give her a knife to kill the prince and his bride in the book, here she is given a magical shell that has the power to summon a storm that will sink the ship and kill the prince and his bride. Only by unleashing the power of this shell can she return to her life as a mermaid. But when she drops this shell into the ocean, unable to betray her love for the prince, she is swallowed up by a wave, and her song is heard throughout the ship. Perhaps this is an homage to the original ending, as the prince searches for the voice in the sails of the ship and in the birds that fly above the ocean. Though she is not missed by the prince for long, her song is heard by the audience, her story is told by the guides, and it resounds through history. The last scene, is her image imortalized in bronze.

Her fate is lamented by the fish that tells her story to the school of fish, regarding this story as a tragedy and a lesson of knowing one’s place. She is heard weeping tearfully: “And that, my children, is how the story ends. The foolish mermaid wanted to become human, but as they say, everyone should know one’s place.” However, the tourists who gaze upon her statue in the Copenhagen bay view it as a story about kindness, love, and devotion, “a tale of love that knows no bounds, the tale of courage and kindness.” 

This change is all the more impactful, not because it shows her loss of life as a tragedy, but rather because she is given a place of belonging, gazing upon the changing and shifting human world. Her position in the water, her physical memorialization, allows humans to keep in constant communion with the ocean, where her song can be heard in the ocean. Her sacrifice becomes not one born out of spite for her unrequited love, but of her love and appreciation for humanity.

Week 9: The Wilderness v The Wildness

In “The trouble with Wilderness, or Getting Back to the Wrong Nature” by William Cronon is a deep investigation into our relationship with nature and the way we regard it as either wilderness, or wildness. On the one hand, regarding nature as a wilderness removes humanity from the equation, and isolates us from the natural world, one in which we are disconnected from and which only extravagant wealth can be equipped to reconnect with. Picture: nature retreats on islands of paradise, or even the amount of money and preparation required to hike Mt. Everest. For some, even a visit to a local park is out of bounds. Nature is thus relegated to a past time for the wealthy, and a source to be reaped of it’s natural resources

One part that summed it all up to me in Cronon’s exposition was that this recomposed view on wilderness versus wildness, “means looking at the part of nature we intend to turn toward our own ends and asking whether we can use it again and again and again-sustainably-without its being diminished in the process. It means never imagining that we can flee into a mythical wilderness to escape history and the obligation to take responsibility for our own actions that history inescapably entails (p.25)” The lack of connection makes it even easier to use nature as a thing, rather than a body that we influence and are influenced from. However, considering nature as a wildness connects it with our everyday life and surroundings, as a wildness can be recognized even in the explosion of weeds in our front yard. In this way nature is present, nature shows us it’s refusal to yield, and that it has autonomy. This, Cronon reminds us, is important in rebuilding our relationship with nature: respecting it’s autonomy.

The Little Mermaid, or Aerial

By becoming an aerial, a daughter of the air, is the little mermaid saved or sentenced to 300 years of suffering? Either way, she has attained a soul at the end of her sentence, a soul that is not tied to a man who treated her like an animal. 

Like most, I grew up watching and loving Disney’s The Little Mermaid, and Prince Eric was the sweetest and most handsome to me. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I read how he treated her like a pet, and gave her “leave to sleep on a velvet cushion before his door (124).” It was heart-wrenching to read of her dehumanization by the prince and the way he expected her to be happy at his marriage. 

I can see how Han’s Christian Anderson wrote this story as insight into life as a queer man in a society that punished it through moral and religious doctrine encoded into rule and law. Living a queer existence meant living a life in hiding, and even if love found a way to flourish, it would not be socially accepted. The little mermaid must make constant sacrifices to appeal to the prince and the people of his kingdom, and she is often warned: “Your fish’s tail, which is a beauty amongst us sea-folk, is thought a deformity on earth, because they know no better.” However, I appreciated this clarification and assurance by her grandmother; that humans’ lack of knowledge was not the fault of the little mermaid, and how this was Anderson’s way of commenting on queerness as something beautiful and misunderstood due to the fault of society, not the individual. 

Nonetheless, I can not excuse the actions of the prince in this tale, because he was completely in power, and never under the spell of the sea witch (although I’m not 100% sure what happened with the bride being mistaken as his savior). He had complete autonomy and flaunted it in the face of The Little Mermaid, whom he took advantage of because she could not speak for herself. He paraded her around, essentially kept her as his pet, and likely intended to keep her as his mistress if she had not become a daughter of the air. He was despicable, and I’m glad she got the soul that she wanted without any help from him, but despite him.

The Mermaid: from mythical being to exotic freakshow attraction

The mermaid, as a symbol of cursed femininity, is a creature which, in all its beauty and connection to the splendor of nature, is still lacking some intrinsic quality. This lack, whether it be of the soul, or human limbs, keeps it separate from becoming part of civilized human society. We see this in Undine’s story, which precedes Hans Christian Anderson’s “Little mermaid”, and highlights the central theme we’ve become familiar with, of the mermaid yearning for humanity or a soul: “such as we are, however, can only obtain a human soul by the closest union of affection with one of you human race (p.105)” Their earthly permanence is only secured by the love of a human, despite being “far superior to that of other human beings(p.105).” 

However, the difference between these two assigned readings, Undine and The Mermaid editorial, points to a cultural shift in the mermaid’s symbolism in popular culture. This cultural shift occurs in the West as the United States becomes an imperialistic force in the global south, and conversations of slavery and the subjugation of Black people in the southern states come into focus in the years prior to the Civil War. 

The mermaid transitions from a beautiful (white) creature into a monster reflecting the fears of Westward expansion. These Fae-like creatures (Melusine and Undine) were historically associated with eurocentric ideals of beauty and morality. The only quality that the beautiful and loyal Undine lacks is a soul, supplied by her husband’s love and admiration. However, the Freakshow mermaids and editorial recollections were framed not only by the novelty of entertainment but by the pitfalls of Social Darwinism; as a means to justify the subjugation and non-consensual viewing of black and othered female bodies:

“It was female, with ugly negro features. The skin was harsh, the ears very large, and the back parts and the tail were covered with scales(p.253)”

“It was therefore an Asiastic mermaid. The description is as follows: –Its face is like that of a young female– its eyes a fine light blue– its nose small and handsome– its mouth small– its lips thin, and the edges of them round like that of the codfish–its teeth are small, regular and white–its chin well shaped, and its neck full (p.253)

The sheer difference in these two descriptions make a stark comparison between the race of these two creatures. Barnum, in his attempt to comment on this growing fascination of the link between animals and humans, also comments on the prevalence of racial pseudoscience which is accepted as a norm in the scientific community. The 19th century mermaid becomes a vehicle to explore and support the supposed logic in scientific racism and the growing eugenicist movement that will define the century to come. 

Nature v. Nurture: Melusine’s “Cursed Womb”

What interested me during this week’s reading, was that despite the unfortunate separation between Raymondin and Melusine, there was an underlying discussion of nature versus nurture. Melusine entered into a marriage, knowing that Raymondin had murdered his uncle. She assisted him through marriage in rising through the ranks, and becoming a wealthy noble. She acknowledges the crimes of her soon to be husband, and later of her son, but does not judge them harshly and instead focuses on what good can come from our sins. Her attempt to reason with her husband, is that their son only acted through his pride and sense of honour, instilled by his father: “He has only sinned through too much zeal, for the service and glory of your line, by too much obedience to his nature, which comes from you. He has too much spirit, and a very fine spirit. As for you, you cannot blame him.(138)”

However, Raymondin can not look beyond his wife, and child’s monstrous nature, and blames Melusine for the disfigurement, and murderous behavior, of their children: “False serpent,’ he whispered, avowing and breaking out with all that she could even pretend, from now on, not to know, or to doubt. ‘You are only a phantom, and so is your fruit! None of those who have come from your cursed womb know how to come to a good end, because of the sign of reprobation with which you have marked them by your sins(139).” However, only a few pages before he discovers her secret, he is plagued by memories of his own murderous sins. At the point of his discovery, the only sin he is knowledgeable about Melusine committing, is the secret he agreed to keep, her serpentine nature, of which she had no control over.

The narrative acknowledges Raymondin’s error in not controlling his “cursed curiosity(142)” and breaking the pact of trust with his wife. In this tale, Raymondin’s humanity is regarded as fallible, despite not being cursed with hybridity. His jealousy and rage is passed on to his son, and carried on through his lineage, outlined by Melusine’s departing words: “After you, my Raymondin, no man will be able to hold this country in peace as we have seen and as it is held at present.” By betraying her trust, his lineage is cursed by his actions, rather than her inherent nature and “cursed womb.”

Week 5: Medieval Melusine

“This transformation from a half snake, half woman may be tied to d’Arras’s situating her near water –a fountain and her bath– and to the fact that dragons and serpents have scales just like fish (86).”

After reading this tale, I set out to look for some art works of this depiction of melusine, as a serpent or dragon. Many modern depictions are mixed between her as a mermaid, sometimes with a serpent’s tail, even sometimes with wings. However, I also was interested in the remains of the castle that she built, whose ruins can be seen today in France. In this 15th-century depiction of the Chateau de Lusignan, Melusine is in the form of a dragon, flying over the castle and perhaps making good on her promise to fly over at the changing of lords.

.Here is googles rundown on the remains of castle Lusignan

This is a link to the Edward Worth Library’s collection of images of Melusine and her different versions of hybridity.

Although the symbolism of water is deeply tied to her myth, she is also punished for her misdeeds, and in some sense, her greed, to forever transform into a serpent hybrid. There are so many different elements in this story which I hope to explore further, such as the curse inflicted by her mother, the multitudes of her hybridity (half fae and human, half woman and serpent), the nature of the curse being carried on to her sons through deformity and cruelness: “Geoffri with the tooth had burned his brother Freimond (p.88).” I’m still at a loss about the relationship between her husband and the conditions of a broken promise. It seems that even as Melusine bestows many gifts upon her husband and their kingdom, her curse afflicts mostly suffering onto her, with her children’s deformity blamed on her curse(or hidden nature), and in the conditions of her curse being discovered resulting in isolation.

Week 4: The poetics of ecological catastrophe

“Whitman’s pale body, and my own, frolicking in the waves, carry on our skin the guilt and violence of ecological catastrophe. I would like to believe, and sometimes I do believe, that inside the chaos of the surf we can derive succor and some pleasure from the buoyancy that poetry creates. But it is hard not to recall the other creatures who depend upon the ocean, the fish and crabs and microscopic plankton, that will pay a harsher price.(150)”

Every summer, the warnings issued through news sources and splashed in front of empty lifeguard shacks tell beachgoers that a sewage spill has contaminated the water, and thus, swimming is not recommended. And so, like Dickinson, we watch from ashore, the untouchable Silver that beckons us with its waves and dirtied water. At least, this is the issue in the South Bay. Miraculously, the sewage-contaminated waters from the Tijuana River plant do not spread beyond Silver Strand(and occasionally Coronado).

Every year, visitors turn away from the contaminated beaches of the South Bay, and find solace in the pristine white sanded beaches of Solana and La Jolla, conveniently located in some of the most affluent areas of San Diego. 

While Blue Humanities focuses on the poetics of planetary water, I can not in my experience separate my view of the ocean from the politics of land and water. The contamination of the beaches and the surrounding wetlands and waters is a constant feature on my mind. Just as Steve Mentz states, “it is hard not to recall the other creatures who depend upon the ocean, the fish and crabs and microscopic plankton, that will pay a harsher price(150),” I too can not seperate my enjoyment of the beach and ocean, from the total devestation of an unsolved ecological crisis happening a few miles down the coastline. As we turn to our beaches in the summer for pleasure and connection, and the surrounding coastal cities benefit from curating their beaches into tourist economies, I think of the way we continually take advantage of the body of the Ocean, the life and solace it provides us, and with which we interact.

I appreciated the broad experience captured in “poetics”, which Mentz expands through “Aristotle’s claim that poetics combines pleasure and pain,” which “seems especially noteworthy for a blue humanities focus on the watery parts of the world that both allure and threaten human bodies. (139)” Even as we remain grounded in our homes and on land, the ocean reminds us of its mistreatment, and it asks us to pay the price. As the issue at the sewage plant worsens with inattention, it rightfully reminds us that even the gorgeous beaches and tanned cliffsides further up the coast can not escape the eventual devastation of human pollution.

The Serpent, the wife, the hero

In The Penguin Book of Mermaids, Cristina Bacchilega and Marie Alohalani Brown, emphasize that “The cross-cultural dynamics of water-spirits stories can help loosen the hold of the all-too-popular reading of the siren or mermaid across time as a symbol of dangerous femininity (xv).” Reading diverse myths of water spirits, not only broadens the scope of hybridity, but teaches us about that culture’s values, ways of life, and beliefs, offering a different way of being and existing than the cannon of western (european) mythology, religion, and literature (and its views on gender) has restricted us to. 

In the polynesian story of “the Tuna(eel) of lake Vaihiria” the princess, daughter of the Sun and Moon, is promised to marry, and discovers her husband is a giant eel. In the first North American tale, “The Horned Serpent Runs away with a girl who is rescued by the Thunderer” the serpent is a shape shifter, who lures away a young woman with the promise of marriage, but is discovered to be serpent who traps her in his lair. In the next, Passamaquoddy tale, a woman is secretly in love with a great serpent who she visits nightly, and transfuses his poison to her ill-fated husbands. 

These stories were interesting because of the way they subverted my own notions of water spirits as a female temptress, and discussed how women might be seduced by men. This lesson discussed by polynesian and north american cultures, were important in identifying the options and agency that women had in different cultures. The differences in running away from the serpent suitor and defying one’s parents (polynesian) communicates the importance in a woman asserting her independence, whereas running away with the snake/man hybrid in defiance of one’s parent (North American) both end in being rescued by a warrior and settling down with the chosen man, or hero. What interested me while I read through the ancient myths of the mermaid, was that they discussed the expectations of marriage, relationships between men and women, and deception. The water serpent, a common figure amongst cultures around the world, has phallic connotations, and flips the modern script that female water beings were strictly presented as seductive temptresses of human men.

Introduction

Hi Everyone! My name is Angelina Gonzalez! I have lived in San Diego my whole life, and though I’ve always wanted to travel the world (and hopefully I will when I can afford it), I know that I’ll always come back to San Diego. I love to complain about the monotony of San Diego’s usually temperate weather, but deep down, I know I could never handle the struggle of the extreme cold or heat. I feel truly spoiled to live in this beautiful county! 

I transferred from Southwestern College in Chula Vista in 2023. Originally I was set on pursuing my major in psychology, but as I moved along in the college process, I felt like I was missing something. I’m currently double majoring in Psychology, as well as English & Comparative Literature. I feel so happy that I get to learn about something that I am truly passionate about, and expand my understanding of the world. 

A little bit about me is that I’m the second of four daughters, and we are animal lovers. I currently have 5 dogs and one cat, so you’ll often see me covered in dog hair (which I try and fail at removing). I love to knit, and crochet, although I often unwind most of my projects because I’m a terrible perfectionist. This means it takes me forever to finish a project. I am by no means an expert and every project I start teaches me something new! Like most in this class, I am fond of reading, specifically from the works of Jane Austen, which have been accused of being a bit boring and slow. While this critique can be true, I still love to read about the way Jane Austen portrays women during this time as complex, flawed, and intelligent.  I love the beach, and often take my dogs to the beach, either Solana Beach or the Fiesta Island dog park. I love seeing the world through how my fur babies engage with it, and I know for sure that the beach is one of their favorite places on earth, besides my bed.

I’m so excited to explore the theme of this class, and how one of my favorite mythical creatures can teach us about how we have valued and taught about the ocean and our connection to it.