Motherhood and Margery Kempe

Queer Media in Time

March 3, 2025

We can read The Book of Margery Kempe as a rejection of womanhood within a 15th century framework. Margery's story literally begins with the birth of her first child; she is fundamentally defined by her status as a mother. This makes a lot of sense within 15th century conceptions and practices of gender (according to my minimal familiarity). During this time, motherhood was the ideal for women, it was women's primary purpose. Like Christian mysticism, motherhood was an embodied lifestyle in contrast to the lives led by men—motherhood requires sacrificing your body for the needs of others, your body is not your own. And, even if Kempe had access to and employed contraceptive knowledge, what was available in this time was not as effective as modern contraception—meaning, Margery Kempe had little or no autonomy over the sacrifice of her body to motherhood.

Kempe begins her story with childbirth, a traumatic experience physically and psychologically, even in the best case scenario (which this was not). In her social context, this trauma likely would not have been recognized (in line with logic that women were made for childbirth or that the pain or childbirth is a godly pain or punishment for Eve’s sin). Her story is predicated on the horrors of childbirth and what would today be considered a postpartum mental illness. Kempe seeks spiritual maternity in the image of the Virgin Mary, but rejects earthly motherhood. While she speaks of her experiences in motherhood—around 20 years of active pregnancy, childbirth, and nursing—she does not name any of her children, we only hear of one son and a daughter-in-law. Her physical role as a mother of 14 rarely affects her story, but the social status of ‘mother’ and the psychological experience of motherhood are the triggering event which her story is built upon.

Many might interpret Kempe's spiritual maternity as an extension of her physical maternity, but I argue that the role of a spiritual mother is a reflection of rigid conceptions of gender rather than Kempe's affinity for motherhood. Had she been a man, would her caring for the children of God be called maternal? or would we call her a Shepard? Even the idea of spiritual fatherhood comes with different expectations and connotations—mothers must only be mothers, while fathers can be more. Kempe takes on a spiritual maternity, as a mother to all, but this motherhood is figurative and not literal—it does not come with the same constraints as literal motherhood. We see this when she cares for her senile husband, she cares for him as a child of god, not as her husband, prioritizing her spiritual responsibility over her familial, womanly responsibility.

By reclaiming her virginity, Margery defines herself through her spiritual maternity rather than her physical maternity—Christ asks her to stop bearing children, not to stop having sex. Her choice to define herself as a virgin is made to redefine her social status within the confines of the gender binary while retaining her autonomy as a person—in rejecting her physical motherhood, Margery Kempe has the choice to sacrifice herself to care for others.

Direct Address in Calamus

American Sexual Poetics

February 27, 2025

In Calamus, I really enjoyed poem 3 and the use of directed address to the reader. Of course, there is the possibility of the author addressing a specific person, but from the first stanza, it is clear that the addressee is reading this book of poems:

WHOEVER you are holding me now in hand,
Without one thing all will be useless,
I give you fair warning, before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.

So, even if the actual reader assumes a different recipient, they will still identify with the recipient because of the shared role of 'reader'. The phrase “holding me now” implies that the book of poems (Calamus? Was this ever published on its own?) is an extension of Whitman; by holding these poems, you are holding Whitman. This creates an intimacy when reading the poem—this sense of intimacy is the erotic that Lorde defines, the feeling in the reading. Moreover, this first stanza and the vagueness of the intended recipient causes the actual reader to consider their relationship with the poetry, with the speak, and therefore with Whitman—reading this poetry is not a passive act of receiving, it is an active and intimate interaction between Whitman and the reader.

This relationship is expanded upon throughout the poem in two ways: to be religious and to be queer. We see religion in subsection 2 as Whitman casts himself as a god and the reader as a follower. In writing poetry, Whitman creates the world the reader occupies while reading. Whitman’s role as god is defined by Christianity when he paraphrases the first commandment: “You would have to give up all else—I alone would / expect to be your God, sole and exclusive.” And by doing so, we also allude to devotion, marriage, and monogamy—the line is possessive, demonstrating a desire to be “your God, sole and exclusive.”

This relationship (which is implied to be romantic/sexual) is queer: “The whole past theory of your life, and all conformity / to the lives around you, would have to be abandoned”; to follow Whitman and to be with him requires the recipient to deconstruct how they understand the world as they will no longer be able to conform with the norm—the act of being with Whitman is a queer act. The line that follows is familiar, a sentiment echoed across many queer stories:

Therefore release me now, before troubling yourself any further—
Let go your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down, and depart on your way.

Whitman understands the enormity of being queer and sacrifices his desires (to be “your God, sole and exclusive”) for the ignorance (and therefore, bliss) of the person he speaks to. Just like in the first stanza, Whitman creates a moment of choice.