“Your poem thinks it’s bad./ Because it farts in the bath./ Cracks its knuckles in class./ Grabs its balls in public/ and adjusts—one,/ then the other—/ back and forth like Slinky. No,/ more like the motion/ of a lava lamp./ You follow me?” (Cisneros 79). As a border Chicana, Cisneros finds herself fighting the virgin ideals of her Mexican heritage while, concurrently she is battling the pressure to assimilate to the dominant American culture that surrounds her and supports her work. Cisneros has spent a lifetime rebelling against these two separate dichotomies, each pulling her in separate directions—each culture dominated by men. I ascertain that she feeds her rebellion against both dichotomies through use of the grotesque in the poem “Down There” and she uses the grotesque to rebel again against new normative thinking in “Still Life with Potatoes, Pearls, Raw Meat, Rhinestones, Lard and Horse Hooves,” both poems from the book Loose Woman.  

The idea of the “good girl” is rife in nearly every culture that exists. Consider “The Wife of Noble Character[i]” from the Bible. It speaks of a woman of near mythical abilities. She rises in the dark, “works with eager hands” (Prov. 31:13), she feeds, weaves, guides, and provides. All this while remaining strong, dignified, and maintaining her reputation at the city gates. “She is worth far more than rubies” (Prov. 31:10). She is also a possession, and in many respects, a slave. This vision of the perfect woman is not unique to Christianity, but, with the spread of Christianity this ideal had circumnavigated the globe. When Cortez conquered South America this ideal was brought with them and re-established with the vision of Guadalupe—another perfect example of male defined womanhood. How can one jar lose this idea of the unobtainable perfection of these fictional women? Cisneros chooses to tear it down, without mercy, through her descriptions of penises, breasts and spit.

The poem “Down There” is a fantastic example of how the grotesque is used to break down the “good girl” stereotype. Cisneros creates a filtered male voice to describe the masculine in her poem. “Your poem thinks it’s bad” (79) she begins, merely recounting what the poem thinks rather than what Cisneros thinks. The first half of the poem is distinctly masculine. Full of testicles and swaggering, snapping bras and shaving. The poem is “the miscellany of maleness” (81) collected both before and after she empties the pockets of her male subject. “Dollars folded into complicated origami,/ stub of ticket and pencil and cigarette, and/ the crumb of the pockets/ all scattered on the Irish/ linen of the bedside table” (81). The first half of the poem provides, in graphic detail, everything a young, unmarried, Mexican woman should never have first-hand knowledge of.  With swift precision, we are quickly aware of Cisneros’s own worldliness, if her previous poems hadn’t been enough to tell us so. She is not—nor will not be—a virgin at the altar. She voluntarily frees herself of that role.

 While the first half of “Down There” is masculine the second is distinctly feminine but just as blunt. While the first half of the poem are things a good girl doesn’t know, the second half are things a good girl doesn’t speak of. “Baby, I’d like to mention/ the Tampax you pulled with your teeth/ once in a Playboy poem” (82). “Yes,/ I want to talk at length about Men-/ stration. Or my period” (82) she begins again after merging the male and female with a reference to Updike’s “Cunts”[ii] published in Playboy and separating them again to focus on the feminine taboo. Notice the split in the word “Men-/ stration. This is where the poem splits from the man. He is now merely a witness. He is someone to absorb these thoughts. “You don’t gush/ between the legs. Rather,/ it unravels itself like string/ from some deep deep center—” (83). This is a conversation Cisneros holds with a man against his wishes. She goes into great detail knowing he will “swoon” (82) and asking him to “indulge/ me if you please” (84). She describes the color, texture, and even the smell of menstruation likening it to luxury. Chocolate, wine, Persian rugs, and a cello are some of the words used to define feminine while pee, hair, gas and spit describe the masculine placing the female taboo into a position of far more worth than the male taboo. This poem plays the dual role of bringing both taboos to light while placing women in a position of greater worth and power over men. This choice, to place herself as one of greater worth, is the opposite ideal than “The Wife of Noble Character”. While both women are deemed worthy, the biblical wife is only found worthy in the eyes of others—husband, children, and elders of the city. Her life is spent in servitude to her family. The woman in Cisneros poem relishes the blood that signifies no family and indulges herself despite her lover’s discomfort in the workings of her body. She finds worth within herself. The poem gains strength from the discomfort this causes.

 Cisneros has another normative idea to separate herself from, as demonstrated in “Still Life with Potatoes, Pearls, Raw Meat, Rhinestones, Lard and Horse Hooves”. This poem is addressed “to a woman who doesn’t act like a woman/” and to a “man who doesn’t act like a man” (108). In other words—this poem is for the gender fluid, the artists and the authors. It is dedicated to her friend, Franco Mondini, an installation artist—which I will assume explains the significance of the title. While this poem does address gender, the thrust of the poem lies elsewhere—perhaps within the old adage of “flowering where you’re planted”. Cisneros shows us, in this poem, that the Eurocentric starving artist ideal is different when seen from the “pensiones by the railway station” (108). Cisneros speaks of “a narrow bed stained with semen, pee, and sorrow/ facing the wall” because “Stain and decay are romantic” as is tangoing in “a lace G-string/ stained with my first-day flow” (108). Her point is that “hunger is not romantic to the hungry” and “decay’s not beautiful to the decayed” (109). She uses the grotesque to make a clear statement that San Antonio isn’t Berlin, Venice, or Buenos Aires and to be thankful for that fact. The grotesque here is used in rebelling from an idea of Eurocentric superiority instead of outright oppression. That idea of the superiority of Europe was born of oppression—it’s not easy being gay in Texas—however the European operas lie; slowly decaying in Venice when seen through the grotesque loses it’s romance and intrigue when actually experienced. Better to be eccentric and bar hop in Texas than rot in Europe with the other starving artists.

 Both “Down There” and “Still Life with Potatoes, Pearls, Raw Meat, Rhinestones, Lard and Horse Hooves” depend on their relationship with the grotesque to illuminate, contrast and redefine previously held ideas and ideals. Cisneros is able to reorder and realign ideas. The powerful becomes less so through the wonder of menses. The European mystique is exposed to light yielding a stained mattress and hunger, running sores and “lipstick on a penis” (109). This inspected imagery begs us to re-evaluate what we think of as truth, what we see as undesirable and rediscover the blood, which is “lovely to the light to look at” (83).

Works Cited

Cisneros, Sandra. Loose Woman. New York: Vintage Books, 1995. Print.

The Holy Bible, New International Version. Grand Rapids: Zondervan House, 1984. Print.

[i][i] NIV Bible “Wife of Noble Character” Proverbs 31:10-31

10 [a]A wife of noble character who can find?/ She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her/ and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,/ all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax/ and works with eager hands.
14 She is like the merchant ships,/ bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still night;/ she provides food for her family
    and portions for her female servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;/ out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;/ her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,/ and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff/ and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor/ and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;/ for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;/ she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,/ where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,/ and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;/ she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,/ and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household/ and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;/ her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women do noble things,/ but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;/ but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,/ and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

[ii] Footnoted by Cisneros: “John Updike’s ‘Cunts’ in Playboy (January 1984), 163.” I attempted to find this poem but could not access Playboy’s files without subscription.