In Shakespeare's The Tempest, the witch Sycorax dies several years before the play begins, enduring only as memory. Banished from Algiers and abandoned on the island to fend for herself and the child in her womb, Sycorax represents not just the Northern African subject, but would have also been seen (in Shakespeare’s time) as a stand-in for the variety of indigenous people that Elizabethan England was encountering more and more due to the expansion of their colonial project abroad.
Sycorax is described as inhumanly powerful, with control over the moon and tides. Her fecundity and connection to lunar cycles link her with archetypal female sources of power. But her version of femininity is far from the dainty European femininity embodied in the young Miranda. Described as a hag "bent into a hoop," her gender identity is illegible and monstrous. This illegibility is present in her race as well. A Northern African with “blue eyes,” she is an exile and a mixed subject who ascends to ruler of her own small realm.
The prefix “syco” is related to the Greek word for “fig,” which was slang for vagina. “Ax” relates to the term “axis” or “axial,” invoking a center around which something turns. Before the arrival of Prospero and his daughter, the island of Sycorax and her son did, in fact, revolve around the axis of female power. Prospero, an embodiment of masculine European rationality whose magical powers derive from his books and spells alone, was only able to "prosper" on the isle in the vacuum of her absence.
Yet at the end of the play, Prospero and the rest of the Italians depart, leaving only the monstrous Caliban, the now-freed Ariel, and Sycorax's invisible but enduring presence. Around what axis will the world of the island now turn?
It's true that Sycorax’s invisibility in this play can be read simply as the forceful eviction of the powerful, racially-marked female from the patriarchal narrative. Old story. However, perhaps there is some grace to be found in the negative space of this hoveringly absent character. Both race and gender only hold sway as identification markers in the realm of the visible. What power can they have over an invisible witch?
An aporia upon which the entirety of the play depends, the legacy of Sycorax is handed down from Shakespeare to us to consider and elegize. What can post-colonialist, feminist artists and thinkers do with her legacy? “As long as we are on the trajectory of the visible, we are more or less innocent or guilty,” says theorist Helene Cixous. Perhaps we can consider Sycorax as blessed, rather than cursed, with invisibility. In any case, her spells are still active, drawing us towards her now-vacant island with an inverse sorcery that resists the verdict of either guilt or innocence.
I like this post a lot, being very interested in The Tempest, and finding this very well written. One thing I might add is about further interpretation of the name of Sycorax. I was recently looking up the etymology of "sycophant" and thinking about figs and symbolism. Figs (fruit, leaves and trees) are associated with knowledge and enlightenment. The Buddha sat under a venerable fig tree as he gained enlightenment. Adam and Eve, in Genesis, place fig leaves to hide their genitals after eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge (who knows, was that tree a fig tree?) Figs were very important in Athens, and have some significant nutritional values. Finally, the flower of the fig is hidden, invisible.
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Tempest is so deep and rich and brilliant, and so incredibly problematic in performance. I like to fantasize that because it was written late in his career (when money and success were less of a concern) it reflects the depth of social criticism that Shakespeare craved to bring to all of his art.
ReplyDeleteBut then, who doesn’t project all kinds of stuff onto their heroes.
More specific to your post:
I love the way the relationship between Prospero and Caliban shifts when I imagine Caliban as the beautiful and powerful “exotic” indigenous woman: (“When thou camest first, Thou strokedst me and madest much of me … : and then I loved thee …”). I think it echoes past and present sexual exploitation of the Other, echoes the fear of a non-heteronormative sexuality (“thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.”), and underscores Prospero’s role as the usurper. But also gives Caliban a different and greater power: it undresses Prospero’s need to see Caliban as an inhuman monster because of the ways her sexuality and femininity threaten his power and because of Prospero’s desire for Caliban.
Both the invisible Sycorax and the feminine-gendered Caliban also, I think, highlight a third feminine ghost: Miranda’s mother. Speculate amongst yourselves here.
Interesting, Marty - I like envisioning a production where Caliban is totally gorgeous and they keep calling him/her a monster (like that episode of Twilight Zone)... also I wonder if that dynamic btw Caliban and Prospero would work if you kept Caliban male and built a queer lust relationship, thus framing the homoeroticism as the destabilizing force that threatens Prospero's vision of the world...
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