Chapter 1: | Intellectual Appetites |
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to question if the mother-in-law (maybe the “white witch” of the film previously evoked) used food to nourish her own husband, or if, conversely, she actually has poisoned him—a possibility that hints at the power of food.
In an ironic twist, at the end of “Lección” food and its preparation, so far removed from the protagonist’s true vocation, allow her to understand her conflicts: “The meat has not ceased to exist. It has suffered some kind of metamorphoses” (20). Her realization signals Castellanos’ view that women should be able to determine their own futures. They can continue living by the norms of a patriarchal society that oppresses them spiritually and physically, as the authors of cookbooks and the protagonist’s mother-in-law have done. Alternatively, they can adopt a more sincere attitude, even if this is more precarious—and could possibly result in their becoming social pariahs. The protagonist opts for the second solution: “Of me one might say what Pfandl said about Sor Juana: that I belong to the neurotic, pensive type” (22). In yet another reference to Sor Juana,7 Rosario Castellanos inscribes her protagonist (and herself) in a feminine lineage initiated by the famous Mexican nun.
“La cocina de la escritura”
There is no doubt that the clamor for women’s liberation in the 1970s stimulated the feminist literary production of which Rosario Castellanos’ “Lección de cocina” is a great example. At the time, women not only embarked on a path for equality but also became interested in authoring artistic works that represented their own subjectivities and their oppressive realities. Yet, in the 1980s, women authors, following in Castellanos’ footsteps as well as those of other Latin American writers, also began discussing the nature of a feminine text that would reflect in content