I
have mixed feelings about Aldonza/Dulcinea. I see the insinuation,
which I'm sure my grandfather loves, of the effect is can have on people
when you see them "not as they are but as they may be/should be." Such
elevating treatment maybe helps some people aspire to make needed
changes or improve their quality of life. I'm sure my grandfather would
state that this is how the Savior sees us, in our potential, not in our
current reality. But it was difficult to watch how much this disturbed
Aldonza. She keeps admonishing Quixote to "see me as I am!" At one point
she begs "Won't you look at me, look at me, God, won't you look at
me!" and Quixote continues to cover his face and plea with her never to
deny that she is his lady. I also felt sad that the storyline reflected the virgin/whore complex so literally--Quixote describes her as "sweet lady, fair virgin!" to the obscene delight of everyone at the inn where she is prostituted. Why couldn't she not be a virgin and still be of worth, still inspire a knight to noble deeds (also problematic)? There is some bitterness in the viewer recognizing that no matter how flowery the speeches made to her, she will never be high born, she will never be "pure" in the sense that he believes she is. I can see how there is something sweet about
his insistence that she has value even when she is bitterly spitting
that she is nothing ("born on a dung heap to die on a dung heap") and her
eventual shift to believing in a higher way of life, seeing the beauty
in the world and in herself, is touching. But she also shares with him
her own raw, violent story, and she truly had some ugly things happen to
her that he completely dismisses and is unable to hear. He invalidates
her lived experience, and that was difficult to watch. I understand that
his madness and inability to integrate reality with his delusion is
part of the profound theme that the play explores, but I wish it could
have been possible for Aldonza to be seen as a whole person, seen and
heard, and still told she is worthwhile. That Quixote could have endured
hearing her story and told her, your sexual history doesn't matter, I
still see you as Dulcinea. What happened to you wasn't your fault and
it's not who you are. Those are the words I would crave from a Savior...not someone with his hands over his ears.
Hoy dia...oy, dia! We left and I immediately missed the
sun-spun angels. I can't ever let go and relax completely no matter how
much I wanted to get away beforehand. But is there anything more lovely
and more temperate than walking in the SLC Farmers Market with Jonny and
picking out soap, inhaling rosemary and lemongrass? Sawadees
for lunch and we talked about "getting organized." The immediate
changes are to do grocery shopping once a week and plan it out, each
cook twice a week, clean the kitchen on the night the
other cooks. When the basement is done we want to have a tech room and a
toy room, never-to-be-seen-again this time. Those changes will come
hard for us, but the way we've been is costing us so much money, energy,
and time. I told Jon I'm scared about our relationship and he said the
same thing as always, we should do more dates but no babysitters. I
suggested we make the effort to carve out the time even if we don't
leave home.
We
stopped by Daniel's and met a squalling Samuel who triggered me. I don't want to
do it. I just don't. I cried and Jon said he'll do whatever he needs to
do, "raise it as his own," whatever. I don't need to search far for
stories of more desperate situations than mine. I mean triplets, Gaza,
watching your children starve, having your children be tortured in front
of you. But I still feel such pain and resistance welling up in me and
worst of all I know it affects an innocent child and very possibly even a
fetus, so during this time of gestation, even my feelings aren't
completely mine, I need to calm down and work through my anger and
disappointment so the quiet cricket won't be poisoned by the salt of my
wrathful blood. It is a complete invasion with no privacy and of course I
don't want to hurt a baby, but part of me sees it all as submission
this time. Submission to extra-concentrated motherhood, submission to
losing more of my mind and my time with the sweet kids I already have,
because that's what I'm supposed to do, who will do it save I? Jon
reminded me that the baby didn't ask for this. I know, I know! but that
doesn't make it easier. We are always so gentle when we get to be alone
together. We touch each other and lean in. I miss the time we never had
and the time we never will have.
