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43 pages 1 hour read

Clarissa Pinkola Estés

Women Who Run with the Wolves

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 1992

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Chapters 11-13Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapter 11 Summary: “Heat: Retrieving a Sacred Sexuality—Baubo, Rwanda, Coyote Dick”

Many ancient goddess cults celebrated obscenity, and sexual humor is used to this day as a way to relax people who have become too tightly wound. The first story about Baubo, the belly goddess, begins with the earth goddess Demeter, who has a daughter called Persephone. Unbeknownst to Demeter, Persephone has been abducted by Hades and carried away to the underworld. For months, Demeter searches in vain for her daughter. She has cursed the earth so that nothing will grow or can be born. Disheveled and depressed, Demeter collapses beside a well when she is approached by Baubo.

This peculiar little goddess has no head. Nipples appear where her eyes should be, and her mouth is a vulva. Demeter begins to smile at this odd creature. Baubo recounts some very dirty jokes, which make Demeter laugh. The earth goddess regains her perspective: A good laugh gives her the energy to continue her quest and find her daughter. “The little belly Goddess Baubo raises the interesting idea that a little obscenity can help to break a depression” (339).

The second story, “Coyote Dick,” was told to Estés by a trailer park manager in Arizona. Coyote Dick is a lazy, shiftless trickster who likes to sleep a good deal of the time. One day, while Coyote Dick is napping, his penis decides to go on an adventure of its own. It detaches itself and hops down the road only to fall into a clump of nettles. When Coyote Dick wakes up, he searches for his penis, rescues it from the stinging nettles, and puts it back in his pants, but his penis itches from that day forward. The result is that men are always rubbing up against women, hoping to have their primordial itch scratched. When the author first heard this story, she erupted in gales of laughter: “A ‘sexual’ laugh seems to reach both far and deep into the psyche, shaking all manner of things loose, playing upon our bones, and making a delightful feeling course through the body” (342).

The third story in this chapter is called “A Trip to Rwanda,” which the author read in a magazine as a child. During World War II, General Eisenhower plans to visit his troops in Rwanda, and a group of native women intend to line up by the sides of the road to greet him. Since Rwandan women rarely wear clothes, they are given skirts and blouses for the official visit. They resist the blouses but agree to wear the skirts, without underpants. Their tribal chief assures the governor that the women have a plan to cover their breasts when the general drives by.

As Eisenhower’s vehicle approaches, all the women dutifully raise their skirts above their waists to cover their breasts. The author concludes, “In the wild nature, the sacred and the irreverent, the sacred and the sexual, are not separate from one another, but live together like, I suspect, a group of old, old women just waiting down the road for us to drop by” (345).

Chapter 12 Summary: “Marking Territory: The Boundaries of Rage and Forgiveness”

Women’s rage is rarely spoken about because nice girls aren’t supposed to have bad feelings. “The Crescent Moon Bear” deals with rage and its constructive release. In Japan, a man returns home after many years away at war. His young wife is thrilled to have him back and prepares elaborate meals as a gesture of welcome. Instead of sleeping indoors, the man insists on living outside. He kicks over all the dishes of food and tells his wife not to bother him. The wife consults a wise old healer and asks for a potion to restore harmony to her marriage. The healer tells the wife to climb a nearby mountain and bring back a single white hair from the chest of a savage bear.

After many trials, the woman finds the bear’s cave at the top of the mountain. He comes out of his den roaring. She leaves a dish of food for the beast and scurries for cover. Each day she repeats this process, creeping ever closer to the bear himself. Finally, she works up the courage to ask the bear for one of his hairs in exchange for all the food she has given him. The bear grudgingly agrees and allows the wife to pluck a single white hair from his chest. Back in the village, the wife gives the hair to the healer, who immediately throws it into the fire. All the wife needs to do is exhibit the same patience and care with her husband, and all will be well in her marriage.

Estés interprets the entire story as a set of instructions for how a woman should deal with her own internal rage. Rather than suppressing it, she should view rage as a learning experience. “All emotion, even rage, carries knowledge, insight, what some call enlightenment. Our rage can, for a time, become teacher [...] a thing not to be rid of so fast” (352).

Understanding rage requires patience. The process is also iterative; not all of one’s rage can be exorcized in a single stroke. Dissolving a lifetime of rage takes practice:

It is very reassuring to know that when one is in a burgeoning rage one knows precisely and with the skill of a craftswoman what to do about it: wait it out, release illusions, take it for a climb on the mountain, speak with it, respect it as a teacher (359).

Under certain circumstances, rage is justified. A false niceness sometimes implies tolerance for truly awful conditions. When this happens, the author says, “For women, this means there is a time to reveal your incisors, your powerful ability to defend territory, to say ‘This far and no farther, the buck stops here’” (363).

In either case, it is necessary to dissipate rage and not let it rule one’s life. After dealing with the emotion, the time comes to move beyond it. The author discusses four stages to letting go of rage permanently: “1. to forego—to leave it alone, 2. to forebear—to abstain from punishing, 3. to forget—to aver from memory, to refuse to dwell, 4. to forgive—to abandon the debt” (370).

Chapter 13 Summary: “Battle Scars: Membership in the Scar Clan, Women With Hair of Gold”

Women are generally trained to appear poised under all circumstances. This trait encourages the keeping of deep, dark secrets, and the keeping of such secrets cuts a woman off from her own authentic nature and creates a dead zone around certain portions of her life. “The secrets a woman keeps are almost always heroic dramas that have been perverted into tragedies that go nowhere” (376).

In “The Woman With Hair of Gold,” a weaver with beautiful golden hair lives all by herself out in the woods. She is courted by the brutish son of a coal burner, who tries to force her into marriage. To buy him off, the woman gives him a large quantity of her golden hair. When he tries to sell it in the marketplace, no one will buy the hair. Angered, the brute returns that night, murders the woman, and buries her body by the river. Because she lives in seclusion, nobody notices that the woman has gone missing. Eventually, golden reeds spring up from the woman’s grave. Shepherds cut the reeds to make flutes from them. When the first musical notes are played, the flutes sing of the woman’s murder and the man responsible for her death. He is instantly brought to justice.

It’s never too late to reveal a dark secret. Even after death, the murdered woman finds a way to speak her truth. So, too, women who have carried a burden of shame for a lifetime can release their sense of guilt and smash through the dead zone in their hearts:

Here is what to do about shame-filled secrets […] See what you see. Say it to someone. It is never too late. If you feel you cannot say it aloud, write it down for them. Choose a person whom you instinctively believe to be trustworthy. The can of worms you are worried about opening is far better off being out there than festering inside yourself (384).

Estés acknowledges that old injuries will leave scars. Women should wear those scars proudly. They are the evidence of life lived and battles won. She also points out that scar tissue, once formed, is much stronger than skin.

Chapters 11-13 Analysis

Prior segments examined the ways in which women and the people around them conspire to prevent the Wild Woman from emerging. This set of chapters focuses on therapeutic measures to counteract dark predators. Chapter 11 concerns reclaiming one’s sexuality. A concerted effort has been made in most cultures to suppress female sexual expression, but ancient goddess worship had no difficulty merging the sacred and the profane. Three bawdy stories break that disjunction and help women accept and appreciate their sexuality.

Just as women’s sexuality has been culturally suppressed, so has their rage. The author sees as much of a problem in women who refuse to feel rage as in those who feel it constantly but refuse to release it. The story of the Crescent Moon Bear reveals the steps necessary to recognize, understand, and release anger. The author makes a point of acknowledging that aggression is useful under some adverse circumstances, but it, too, must eventually be allowed to dissipate.

As with sexuality and rage, certain cultural norms apply only to women with regard to secrets. For the sake of maintaining family harmony, females are expected to suppress both their own secrets and the secrets of those closest to them. This silent burden prevents a woman from establishing an authentic connection with her primal nature because she has cut herself off from certain areas of her own life. Just as she advised women to embrace sexuality and feel rage, the author advises women to articulate dangerous secrets by using the story of the golden-haired woman. Even death can’t keep her from speaking the truth. The same counsel is given to women who keep their mouths shut for the convenience of others.

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