Badass Women of Early America: Hannah Dustin

Sorry about the lack of post of Monday. I was gallivanting about with my family and completely spaced on what day it was. So you get to have your History post today (I should be hearing some cheering right now. Even a half-hearted clapping works). This will be the last of the Badass Women of Early America, though Badass Women may appear in the future.

Hannah Dustin was a Puritan woman living in Haverhill, Massachusetts in 1697 when the town was attacked by the Abenaki tribe. She is one week past having given birth when the town is attacked and her child is killed by one of raiders. Hannah herself and her midwife are taken as captives and sold to an Indian family of 12.

She stays with them a little while and is then told she is going to have to run "The Gauntlet". The Gauntlet was a test of bravery for the Indians. They'd strip you down and make a corridor you had to run down, with people on either side armed with sticks. Then you ran down it and they hit you with said sticks. But for them, this wasn't a bad thing. It was a measure of your courage and once you did it you gained respect from them. Although if you failed, they sold you to the French (who were not Protestant. Quelle Horreur!)

Of course, as a Puritan woman, she saw this as a perverse torture by her captors and decided to escape, along with her midwife and a boy was also a captive of her family. In the dead of night, she rouses the others, and kills the family she's been sold to. She then proceeds to scalp them with a tomahawk and flees for her home.

Where, against the odds of what should happen in a Puritan community, she is welcomed back and revered. Even though she ended up killing ten Indians, six of whom were children. Because she was outside the realm of Puritans, the rules didn't apply. Plus at one point there was actually a bounty out for Indian scalps (although this had ended by the time Hannah returns). And she petitions for payment and receives 25 pounds.

Now, I realize that this means horrible things on both sides. She was kidnapped by Indians who killed her child and then sold her as a slave (Demerits to the Abenakis). But then she turned around and murdered 10 Indians, including six children, in their sleep (Demerits to Hannah Duston). Basically, no side is the good guy here.

But what makes Hannah badass is that she didn't just sit there and twiddle her thumbs waiting for her husband to find her and buy her back. She didn't like her situation so she decided to change it. Albeit, the method was a bit more radical than necessary, but she was in enemy territory and if someone saw them leaving, they'd be hunted and probably killed. Hannah took control of her destiny which is what makes her a strong woman.

Now for some fun facts. The picture at the beginning of this post is of one of two statues of Hannah Duston. This one is on the island where she was kept captive and has her with tomahawk in one hand, scalps in the other. It is the first statue of a woman in the US. It is 25 feet tall and made of granite.

The other is located in Haverhill. It is only 15 feet tall and made of bronze. That one features her simply with a tomahawk. And for a while in Haverhill, there was also a Hannah Dustin Elementary School. I wonder what version of the story they told the kids?

Hannah was believed to be buried in an unmarked grave for fear of Indian retaliation. And I don't blame them for that fear. If you want to read a slightly longer version of her story (with some chuckle worthy commentary although it has some swearing) you can read this person's

Badass Of The Week.

Badass Women of Early America: Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz

I am sorry there was no video on Friday. I was dealing with some issues on Friday and then the weekend got busy. But the book vlog is at the end of this post. It's a Rosemary Clement-Moore Fest! But on to the woman of the hour: Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz

Juana De La Cruz was a Spanish Catholic nun (Sor means Sister) in a village south of Mexico city in the mid to late 17th century. She was a very well respected poet in her time, with rich and powerful admirers, but she is also a woman, which not everyone likes (we'll get to this in a bit)

She was the illegitimate daughter of a Spanish landowner and a Creole woman. Her mother was illiterate and raised six children (with multiple different fathers) on her own, never marrying. Juana;s grandfather on the other hand, was highly literate and had a huge library. He taught her to read and write in both Spanish and Latin.

At this time, one of the few ways for a woman to gain and education was to enter a convent and become a nun. Which is the path that she decides to take. However, this doesn't mean she doesn't have faith. Juana was very devout, so much so that she believed it was too important to write about.

This of course is another reason why some people (The Church) doesn't like her. She's a nun, an educated woman, and she's drawing attention to herself. And she's not writing about religion as a good little nun should do. So the clergy pretty much hate her.

But they can't do anything because of those rich and powerful admirers. She's a celebrity in intellectual circles, not just in Mexico, but in Spain as well. She's known as The Tenth Muse (of course referencing the nine muses of the Greek Pantheon, daughters of Zeus, responsible for creative inspiration) and the Phoenix of Mexico, rising from the ashes of her humble background.

The clergy lie in wait though, biding their time and wait for the moment when they can bring her down. And when she answers a private letter to a Jesuit priest. She disagrees with his opinion that Jesus washes his disciples' feet for the sake of love itself, saying that this act is proof of his love for humanity as a whole. And of course, her opinion makes sense, but that doesn't matter to her enemies; she's expressed a religious opinion and they use it to take her down, publishing the letter.

And they don't just want her to stop writing. They want to utterly destroy her intellectual pursuits. Juana de la Cruz had a library of between 2000 and 4000 books, in a time where books were leather bound, jewel encrusted tomes that cost an arm and a leg. And when the clergy work to destroy her reputation (and let's face it, her entire life) much of this library ends up getting burned and the rest is sold.

And that to me is the most heartbreaking part of her story. To quote John Green "I get really mad when people mess with libraries!" My personal library is only a faction of hers (almost 500 books) and I know that if anything should happen to even a couple of the books, I'd be heartbroken. To be forced to sell what part of your collection wasn't burned, especially when books were hard to come by (especially true in the New World) would probably break me more than anything else they did to me.

Sadly, the last thing that Juana every writes is her signature, in blood, renouncing all her writings. But the best things about Juana's poetry is that she was saucy and sarcastic, but in a carefully constructed, high-brow way so no one could call her on it. A really good example of this is her poem "In Reply to a Gentleman from Peru, Who Sent Her Clay Vessels While Suggesting She Would Better Be a Man" (Yes that really is the title).

Kind Sir, while wishing to reply,

my Muses all have taken leave,

and none, even for charity,

will aid me now to speak;

and though we know these Sisters nine

good mothers are of wit and jest,

not one, once having heard your verse,

will dare to jest at my behest

The God Apollo (Greek god of music himself) listens, rapt,

and races on, so high aloft

that those who guide his Chariot

must raise their voices to a shout

(Skipping a few verses)

for, having heard your murmuring,

the Nine Daughters all concede,

beside your verses they are wanting,

unfit to study at your feet.

Basically she's saying his verse is so wonderful that even the Greek gods and goddesses that govern music and poetry are in awe of him. it's highly likely that she's being sarcastic (that's how I read it) but if anyone tries to call her on being biting, she can always say, "No, I really think he's that good." One of the few instances where ambiguity of tone in written word serves you well.

And thus, acknowledge it I must,

I cannot scribe the verses owed,

unless, perhaps, compassionate,

keen inspiration you bestow.

Be my Apollo, and behold

(as your light illuminates me)

how my lyre will then be heard

the length and breadth of land and sea.

Though humble, oh, how powerful

my invocation's consequence,

I find new valor in my breast,

new spirit given utterance!

And now, she's saying that this man must be her muse, the one to grant her inspiration. He is so good that only by bestowing inspiration upon her will she ever be able to even attempt to respond to his astonishing verse. Anyone else smell the sarcasm? And then she goes on to answer his assertion that she ought to be a man

As for the counsel you offer,

I promise you, I will attend

with all my strength, although I judge no strength

on earth can en-Tarquin (turn a woman into a man)

for here we have no Salmacis (The fountain that turned men into women in the Greek myth of Hermaphroditus)

whose crystal water, so they tell

to nurture masculinity

possesses powers unexcelled

While she's shooting down his ridiculous notions, it almost sounds like she's considering what he's said. "Of course, if I could, I would become a man if that would please you. But alas, I cannot so I shall have to remain a woman. Oh drat." She could even be talking in the tone you use with small children to explain why it's a little ridiculous to suggest the moon is made of cheese.

There is more to this poem, and you should read some of her other stuff as well. Because she is very clever with her poetry, very tongue and cheek at moments (especially in "Which Reveals the Honorable Ancestry of a High-Born Drunkard"). She's sassy and spirited and doesn't back down until she's been forced to. I think more of her poetry should be read in school. Replace some of the Walt Whitman that most people inevitably despise (sorry to any Walt Whitman lovers out there, but your scarcity makes you special ;) ). So go forth and enjoy a women who politely (and imperceptibly) told her those who opposed her to kiss off.

(And here's the book video from last the last week)

Badass Women of Early America: Anne Hutchinson

Welcome to another edition of Badass Women in Early America. This post’s woman is Anne Hutchinson, a Puritan woman from the Massachusetts Bay Colony. But to know about Anne Hutchinson, first you have to know about John Cotton.

Cotton was a very prolific Puritan preacher in England, one of the upper class who lived a life of privilege (this will be important later). He was so protected by his status that he was able to stay and preach in England at a time when many Puritans had to flee for their lives. Of course, eventually that protection runs out and he has to flee in the middle of the night with his wife and baby to New England.

But in New England, Cotton is a rockstar. It’s the equivalent of a literature nerd having Shakespeare or Jane Austen come live in their neighborhood (or basement). These people are stoked to have their beloved minister in their presence. And Anne Hutchinson is one of his most devout followers.

Now Cotton isn’t intentionally a bad guy. And really, on the scale of evil, he’s nowhere near madman or evil genius. He’s closer to the bottom, around schmuck. Because of his status, he had nothing to do with his life but intellectualize and form theories about religion. Which he then preached to the community of Puritans. But he never expected his principles to go beyond hypothetical and become something people applied to their lives.

This is what Anne Hutchinson did. She took those theories and put them into practice. At this time, women were not allowed to be preachers (just look what happened to Anne Bradstreet’s sister, Sarah). So instead of preaching, she held prayer meetings, which was perfectly permissible for women.

At these meetings, she discussed Cotton’s ideas and about putting them into practice. These meetings gained popularity so that she had two meetings every day and about a quarter of the population was coming to see her. She became a leader for a group that would be called Anti-Nomians, those against the law.

Of course, this freaked out John Winthrop, the governor at the time (whose second in command was Thomas Dudley, Anne Bradstreet’s father. Yes, the guy who was a zealot and liked to hit people who disagreed with him). Winthrop was very concerned about the community being unified and Anne’s meetings made his dissention meter redline. There was only one thing for him to do.

He had her put on trial for being an Anti-Nomian. Okay, here is a short cheat sheet about the Anti-Nomians. They believed that they had a mission that surpassed religion and rules and anything but their call from their God. Their communication with God didn't need ministers or the Bible. Basically, they had one calling and whatever they needed to do to fulfill that calling was what they would do. The ends justify the means and damn the consequences.

And here's the thing about Anne. She wasn't saying anything that John Cotton hadn't said before. And she wasn't trying to make Cotton look bad or pawn it all off on him. She genuinely believed his ideas had sound merit and wants to put them into practice. And even Winthrop kind of knows that the charges he's laid against her are kind of sketchy.

But Anne also knew her bible and her religion. And she was a skilled and eloquent orator. After every statement she made, she asked Winthrop a question which drove him insane. He said, "I am not on trial madam." And she had the perfect answer every time.

Now, most trials in New England took forty seconds before you were convicted and sentenced (they didn’t really believe in the whole “innocent until proven guilty” mindset). Anne’s trial took two days. Two days of Winthrop and Dudley questioning her over and over again, trying to back her into a corner. Two days before she finally slipped up and gave Winthrop something he could use against her.

You may be asking yourself at this point “Where’s John Cotton? Surely he can speak for Anne.” Uh…no. Remember the whole being a schmuck on the scale of evil thing? Winthrop and Dudley first confronted Cotton about his teachings. And he was so horrified at what was happening that he retracted everything he ever said. He never said it and it he did say it, that’s not what he meant. He backpedaled so far and fast it’s amazing he didn’t create a time rift that sent him back to the age of dinosaurs.

So Cotton was absolutely no help in this matter. But after two days of questioning, Anne misstepped in her testimony. She said she had a direct conversation with God, which is not something the Puritans do. Winthrop leapt on it like a drowning man. He banished her from the colony, sending her to Portsmouth. And the worst part of the ordeal? Cotton, her beloved minister, is the one to deliver her sentencing.

So Anne is sent to Portsmouth to live out the rest of her days. At forty-six, she has her 16th pregnancy (which is a lot for anyone, but at forty-six in the 17th century I'm wondering why she's not dead yet) and she miscarries (my Lit. teacher told us it was Hydati Form Mole and to look it up in our own time, but I'm afraid to since it sounds terrible. So look it up at your own risk). Winthrop feels like this is evidence that God has deserted Anne.

The really galling thing? Nothing ever happens to Cotton. There are no consequences for him having started this or for his role in what happened. He stopped preaching, but basically that's all that happened to him. But his life was probably miserable

Even after being banished, Anne never gave up her beliefs. She didn't change who she was or what she believed simply because people told her she was wrong. Maybe that just makes her stubborn, but it also shows strength of character and conviction. Standing up for what you believe in, no matter the consequences, shows true backbone.

Badass Women of Early America: Anne Bradstreet

It should be noted that "Early America" does not mean "United States". It encompasses Mexico and Canada as well (and probably South America, although we didn't make it that far south in the narratives we read). I mention this because if you search for one of these women in United States you will find very little one her, but in Mexico her works are revered and have been printed many times. I should also note, that by "Early America" I mean 17th century, not Revolutionary War era and not quite to the Salem Witch Trials (we just haven't gotten there yet).

Anyway, the first woman is the amazing Anne Bradstreet. Anne was a Puritan woman (check all your Puritan baggage at the door. The real Puritans were religiously devout, open and forthright about anything you want to ask, and loved bright colors) in the Massachusetts Bay Colony which formed in 1630. Her father, Thomas Dudley, was second in command of the colony and liked to hit people with a stick if her thought they were being disrespectful (kind of like a crotchety grandfather, but more crotchety).

Anne was a poet, who only planned to write privately, for her family. But her brother-in-law thought her poems were so good that he had them published. As a surprise. Thank you Captain Helping Hand (warning: sarcasm alert). This could have turned out really, really bad for Anne. How bad you may ask?

Well, let's give some context. Anne had a sister named Sarah. Sarah and her husband came over to the New World with the rest of the family, but then went back to England. As a Puritan especially, once you were in New England, you didn't go back. Back was were the corruption of religion was. Then Sarah starts prophesying, which in this highly patriarchal society you just did not do. Sarah's husband divorced her. Sarah then comes back to New England, has a sexual affair with a non-believer (say it isn't so!) and is not just banished from the colony, but is excommunicated.

With all that hanging over her, is it a wonder that Anne felt upset and nervous about her poetry being read? This could be the first step to her being shunned. But instead, people in New England and in England love her poetry. And many people in England are enemies of the Puritans at this point. But even they love her.

She uses this position to promote Puritans and their ideals. And she was always careful in what she said to never appear above her station. She played the part of the good Puritan and humble woman. All that she was given came from her god. Here is a sample of her poetry (from her book "The Tenth Muse":

To sing of wars, of captains, and of kings,

Of cities founded, commonwealths begun,

For my mean pen are too superior things:

Or how they all or each their dates have run,

Let poets and historians set these forth

But when my wond'ring eyes and envious heart

Great Bartas' (a poet) sugar'd lines do but read o'er

Fool I do begrudge the Muses did not part

'Twixt him and me that overfluent store;

A Bartas can do what a Bartas will,

But simple I according to my skill

(She spends another two stanzas saying she is but humble woman and no great poet)

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue

Who says my hand a needle better fits,

A poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong

For such despite they cast on female wits:

If what I do prove well, it won't advance,
They'll say it's stol'n, of else it was by chance

But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild,
Else of our sex, why feigned those Nine
And posey made Calliope's own child;

So 'mongst the rest, they placed the arts divine,

But this weakknot, they will full soon untie,

The Greeks did nought, but play fools and lie

Let Greeks by Greeks, and women what they are,

Men have precedency and still excel,

It is but vain unjustly to wage war;

Men can do best, and women know it well.

Preeminence in all and each is yours;

Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.

And oh ye high flown quills that soar the skies,

And ever with your prey still catch your praise,

If e'er you deign these lowly lines your eyes,

Give thyme or parsley wreath, I ask no bays;

This mean and unrefined ore of mine

Will make your glist'ring gold but more to shine

Pretty much, she spends the first stanzas saying "Oh, how I wish I could write poetry as well as great men. I am but small in my skills." And then she says that while men are superior, they ought to give women some credit. She keeps deference in her tone, but she's saying "Hey, we aren't all just pretty faces and baby incubators. Give us a little credit." It's a move for women being less down trodden and yet done in a way that people won't think her impertinent or acting above her station. It's brilliant.

And all of the poems we read by her are wonderful. I had to read some for class and in my free time I plan to go back and read the rest in the section, maybe even find a book of her poetry if I can. Next time on Badass Women of Early America: Anne Hutchinson