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Early in the novel, Juanita informs her sisters, “Did you know that seventy percent of men aren’t as attached to their female children as they are to their sons?” (10). This admission of rampant sexism sets the tone for gender dynamics in the rest of the book, as men leave their families and bring trouble to their communities while women are left to pick up the pieces. Gabriel Pérdido, the dead man, turns out to be a wanted drug dealer and absentee father who brings pain and shame to his family. In many ways, the body of the dead man represents the dead weight of toxic masculinity. The Garza sisters begin their journey thinking they are searching for their father, Ernesto, but they later realize that they began the journey to leave him behind—to be a clan of confident, culturally aware women who know and rely on their own power.
When they meet their grandmother, Abuelita Remedios—one of several kindly maternal figures who help them throughout the novel—the Garza sisters still believe they are on a quest to find their father and bring him home. Abuelita Remedios disabuses them of this notion while also freeing them from the internalized misogyny that leads them to blame themselves for his absence: “Sometimes, men leave, for whatever reason […]. Nothing you did or could have done differently would have changed that” (257). This statement encapsulates the role of men in the novel: They leave, and the women they leave behind must learn to rely on themselves and each other.
Throughout the novel, women are the victims of male irresponsibility and selfishness. The Garza sisters’ mother must work constantly to make ends meet in her husband’s absence. His departure also affects the girls’ sense of structure, and they run wild during the summer. When Ernesto does finally return, he does so with a second family and his mistress in tow. He comes not to reunite his family but to take over their house for the use of his new family. The girls’ quest, formerly about bringing their father home, becomes about regaining their sense of unity in the face of patriarchal mistreatment. The early episode in which they returned the body of Gabriel Pérdido to his family turns out to foreshadow this larger story. The sisters assumed that Gabriel’s family would be longing for his return, just as they were longing for their father’s return. In reality, no one wanted him back, just as the sisters will learn not to want their absentee father back either.
Summer of the Mariposas shows that female solidarity and cultural pride are antidotes to the trials of misogyny. The girls use lessons learned and guidance from their mother, indigenous Mexican ancestors, La Llorona, and Tonantzin to complete their journey. The stamina and confidence they build as travelers give them the strength to stand up to and reject their father when he returns.
The heavily policed US-Mexico border is an ever-present complication in the sisters’ journey, adding difficulty and danger to what might have been a simple road trip through the US-Mexico borderlands. In this way, the role of the border in this novel mirrors its role in the lives of many real-life communities and families.
Though the Garza sisters live on the US side of the border, their extended community includes many people who make their homes on the other side. The novel makes clear that the border does not delineate two separate countries so much as it artificially divides a single, contiguous region—the borderlands—in which many people’s lives take place on both sides of the line. Throughout the novel, the sisters must navigate the obstacle of the border and its enforcers—the US Border Patrol—to get where they are going. It is because of this obstacle that the discovery of Gabriel Pérdido’s body presents enough of a challenge to set the story in motion.
The simplest course of action would be to alert the authorities, but Juanita—quick-thinking and community-minded—recognizes that reporting a likely homicide would mean putting the Border Patrol on high alert, endangering other members of the community. Juanita reminds her sisters of the Border Patrol’s past treatment of border crossers: “To them illegals are no better than stray dogs. They’d shoot them before they’d help them” (12). The Border Patrol’s function is to make the border’s artificial divisions real. Even the language Juanita uses here, calling undocumented migrants “illegals,” echoes the US government’s worldview, in which some people are legal—and thus worthy of full humanity—and others are not. Juanita and her sisters choose to take on great risk to reunite the as-yet-unidentified body with its family without involving these hostile authorities. In doing so, they align themselves with a view of the borderlands that is the precise opposite of the Border Patrol’s view—one in which community extends across both sides of the border and matters far more than an imaginary boundary ever could.
As the sisters prepare to head home, they realize they must cross the border again, this time without the aid of La Llorona’s magical earrings. Odilia appeals to Tonantzin, the Aztec mother goddess, who offers to aid their crossing in exchange for a favor: Odilia must give roses to “the mother”—a cryptic phrase she initially interprets to mean her own mother, though she later realizes it means La Llorona. This gift allows La Llorona to finally heal from the grief and guilt of her children’s deaths and take her place among the stars. This is especially important given that Tonantzin embodies the ideal of motherhood, while La Llorona is traditionally viewed as the antithesis of that ideal. In this novel, Tonantzin sees La Llorona not as she is portrayed in folklore but as she is: another mother, heartbroken and in need of healing. La Llorona’s healing mirrors the healing of the Garza women, who come together to support each other. In thwarting the artificial division of the border once more, the sisters knit their fractured communities back together.
In Summer of the Mariposas, the Garza sisters meet the legendary La Llorona and learn that her real story is very different from the one they’ve heard about her. In learning to see La Llorona for who she is rather than for the harsh and fearful rumors attached to her, they also learn to see their mother for the loving and supportive figure she is, putting aside their resentment over the changes that have taken place in their lives.
There are many stories of La Llorona, but almost all portray her as a figure of maternal failure and thus—in a patriarchal culture that views motherhood as synonymous with “natural” womanhood—as a monster to be feared. In Summer of the Mariposas, the Garza sisters have heard one version of this story: La Llorona’s husband abandoned her for a wealthier woman, and La Llorona, in a fit of rage, intentionally drowned their children as a means of revenge. This story closely mirrors the ancient story of Medea, from Euripides’s eponymous tragedy, presenting La Llorona as an embodiment of female fury (and vengeance against patriarchy) and her children as collateral damage. This story tracks closely with the Garza sisters’ view of their mother: Their father abandoned them, and their mother now works constantly to make ends meet, meaning she is rarely home. The sisters, too young to understand the economic hardship facing their mother, feel doubly abandoned and conclude their mother no longer cares about them.
As La Llorona tells her own story, Odilia realizes she has been grossly misrepresented in folklore. She did not murder her children—they drowned by accident as she was arguing with her husband. She nonetheless holds herself responsible for their deaths and has spent hundreds of years searching for them. In changing how she thinks of La Llorona, Odilia also changes how she thinks about her own mother, recognizing that her mother’s absence is not a case of maternal abandonment but the opposite: Her mother is making enormous sacrifices to keep her daughters safe, fed, and housed.
Through this sympathetic retelling, McCall unpacks tropes around women and shows empathy for the abuses they suffer at the hands of men. Even Cecilia the witch is simply a woman suffering from profound loneliness and isolation. At the beginning of the book, we see the Garza sisters’ mother as a negligent, sometimes short-tempered mother. By the end, we understand her as a desperate mother simply trying to make ends meet the best way she knows how.
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By Guadalupe Garcia McCall
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