philomathean VOLUME XLVâ€”SPRING 2018
Emergence by Jerlisa Williams, a senior Art major and Computer Science minor from Columbia, SC.
Table of Contents Jitsu Creates Autumn.........................................................................4 Stephanie Brooks Little Flowers.....................................................................................9 Jerlisa Williams Messages within Green Day’s American Idiot: Beyond Music................10 Heather McCaffery Home Sweet Home..........................................................................16 Tyler Olsen Melting...........................................................................................19 Jerlisa Williams Sugpiaq: Orthodoxy and the “Real People” of Alaska...........................20 Natalie Garbarino Dopamine.......................................................................................32 Chris Cavero Off Limits........................................................................................33 Christian Sanchez Thought..........................................................................................39 Shayla Martin In Darkness....................................................................................40 Shayla Martin
Sexual Segregation and the Differing Molts of Willow Ptarmigan (Lagopus lagopus)..............................................42 Jessica Wilson Scott..............................................................................................51 Laura Folger Sean..............................................................................................52 Laura Folger Emily..............................................................................................53 Laura Folger Spiritual Equality Does Not Mean Social Equality: Quaker Women and the Search for True Freedom in and out of the Pulpit.....................................................................54 Savannah Laury Reflection.......................................................................................66 Jerlisa Williams Poema en estilo de Vicente Huidobro................................................67 Crystal Carter Mexican-American Struggles before and after the Mexican-American War.......................................68 Jonathan A. McDaniel
Jitsu Creates Autumn Stephanie Brooks
One day while Jistu (Rabbit) was walking through the woods he came across a group of Yunwi Tsundsi’ (Little People). The Yunwi Tsundsi’ were frolicking around in a clearing playing with flowers and birds. Jistu was curiousv as to why they were making merry on this particular day, so he walked up to the closest Yvwi Usdi (Little Person), a little green boy spirit with wildflowers in his hair. “Why are you celebrating?” Jistu asked the boy. “It’s the day that Unetlavhi (Creator) made us. It’s our birthday, you see?” replied the Yvwi Usdi. Jistu was intrigued by this birthday party and all of the fruits he could see on the log across from him. “Say little boy, do you mind if I joined you? I’m quite famished from hopping all the way here.” The Yvwi Usdi invited Jistu to stay and walked him over the fruits. Jistu ate for hours, engorging himself on the delicious fruits. He then noticed that the Yunwi Tsundsi’ were gathering around a giant glowing ball in the center of the clearing that looked like the sun. As he approached the strange red orb he began to sweat from the intense heat it radiated. “What is this hot red light?” Jistu asked the little green boy he had become friends with. “It’s fire. We use it to cook meat and keep ourselves warm in the night. It’s a secret of the Yunwi Tsundsi,’ so do not tell anyone.” “If you tell me exactly how to create this strange fire myself, I won’t tell anyone about it,” Jistu replied, smirking. The Yvwi Usdi agreed to Jistu’s
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proposition and described the entire process for creating fire. Once Jistu learned all that the Yvwi Usdi had to tell him, he wandered away to find a stream to quench his thirst from the heat. When Jistu finished drinking from the stream, he noticed that there were upright people from the closest village throwing sticks into the water. Jistu was curious and hopped up to the closest two upright people. “Tell me, Tall Man, what is it that you are doing? Why throw sticks into the stream when they are more useful to you dry on land?” Jistu asked to the taller of the two villagers. “We are capturing fish for food. Our people sometimes get sick when they eat them, but we must eat something,” the Tall Man explained to Jistu. Jistu was intrigued by this method and asked the Tall Man and Small Man to explain to him how this fishing worked. After the villagers explained the concepts, Jistu wanted to know how the people ate these slippery animals. They explained that they cut them up into pieces and ate them. Jistu was confused as to why they didn’t cook these animals like the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ cooked their meat. Jistu wanted to help these villagers. “I know a way to heat these fish so that they taste better and your people will stop getting sick by this meat. It’s called fire,” Jistu said to the Tall Man and Small Man. The villagers wanted to know this secret way to cook meat. Jistu agreed to let them know, but only if the villagers were willing to have an annual ceremony celebrating the day of his birth. Jistu was jealous that the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ had their own ceremony but he did not. The Tall Man and Small Man decided to take these terms to the chief. After leaving the villagers, Jistu wandered back to the home of the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ to gain access to the fire. Jistu knew what a fire was and how to keep it going, but he did not know how to start it. The Yunwi Tsunsdi’
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had not told him this knowledge in order to keep him from stealing their secret. Jistu wanted the ceremony, so he stole their fire and carried it back to the stream to wait for the Tall Man and Small Man. The next day, Tall Man and Small Man wandered back to the stream to meet Jistu. Their chief had agreed to honor Jistu every year in exchange for the secret of fire. Jistu carried the fire into the village and taught them how to keep it going. He walked Tall Man and Small Man into the woods and taught them how to gather the wood. He then showed the villagers how to cook meat over the fire without burning it. The villagers cheered for Jistu as he wandered away from the village seeking berries and a place to sleep. A few weeks after Jistu gave fire to the villagers he noticed that the grass was turning yellow, leaves were falling from the trees, and the berries had stopped blooming. Curious about what was happening, Jistu started seeking out the Yunwi Tsunsdi’. He found them sitting in the clearing in what appeared to be the middle of a meeting. “What’s this meeting about? Is it about everything dying? What’s happening?” Jistu asked. “Indeed, we are discussing this great dying,” the leader Yvwi Usdi replied, “but we are not concerned about why it is happening because we already know. We have started this great dying. It’s punishment.” “Punishment for what? Did the upright people forget to honor you?” “Quite the opposite. It is not only their punishment, but also yours. You have stolen fire from us and given our secret to the upright people. The upright people are cutting down trees and killing so many animals to use with the fire. They are abusing this knowledge. To stop this, we have started the dying. Plants will go dormant, food will stop growing, and
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animals will go into hiding. There will be nothing to eat and therefore nothing to burn.” “Your punishment is severe and just, but there is a flaw in your plan. If you continue this dying, how are you going to survive? If the upright people cannot eat, then neither can you.” “The continuation of the dying all depends on you, Jistu. If you bring us back the fire we will stop this and life will go on as it was.” Jistu left the clearing thinking about what to do now. He knew that he needed to give the fire back to the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ to stop the dying, but he wasn’t sure how to get it back from the villagers. He started hopping back towards the village, hoping he could convince them to give the fire back to the Yunwi Tsunsdi’. When Jistu arrived at the village, he found them sad because their crops were dying and they were getting colder. Children were getting sick from the chill, which resulted in the villagers cutting more wood for the fire. Jistu explained to the villagers and their chief that the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ were angry at him for stealing fire and that they would not stop the dying unless he returned fire to them. The chief did not want to return the fire. Now that they had this gift, they could not imagine life without it. Jistu wandered away from the village upset. As he sat by the stream deciding if he should steal the fire again or not, Tall Man and Small Man approached him. They wanted to help Jistu bring the fire back to the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ to stop the dying. The three devised a plan to steal the fire while everyone was sleeping, but they did not want to just give it back. They wanted to bargain with it. Jistu, Tall Man, and Small Man walked the fire back to the home of the Yunwi Tsunsdi’. When they arrived, the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ surrounded them. Jistu noticed that the little green Yvwi Usdi from his first meeting was there too.
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“So, you have brought us back our fire. Hand it over and we will stop this dying,” the lead Yvwi Usdi proclaimed. “We have returned it, but we will not give it back until you hear what these villagers have to say,” replied Jistu. Tall Man and Small Man explained to the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ that they could not see a life without fire. They understood that they had to pay for the use of this gift, but they insisted that the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ must see that they were helping the village by giving them this gift. The lead Yvwi Usdi called a council to consider his options and left Jistu, Tall Man, and Small Man alone in the clearing with the little green boy. Eventually, the leader came back into the clearing with a new proposition. “You do not want to live without the fire and neither do we. I have a proposition. We can split the fire in half so that each of us has fire, but you will have to pay for this gift and for Jistu stealing it from us. The dying time will happen once every year followed by a dead period, but afterwards, we will revive everything. Do you agree?” Tall Man and Small Man agreed to this proposition and split the fire in half. They returned to their people to tell them that the dying would continue, but not forever. Jistu left the Yunwi Tsunsdi’ and the villagers in search of a new adventure elsewhere. They started to stock up on food and necessary items in order to survive the dying time, which became known as autumn. Every year, the villagers continued to honor Jistu for bringing them fire and for creating the season of autumn. [Author’s note: This story is based on trickster tales from the Cherokee tribe that were told to me when I was a child.]
Stephanie Brooks is a junior English major from Waynesboro, VA.
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Little Flowers by Jerlisa Williams, a senior Art major and Computer Science minor from Columbia, SC. 9â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Messages within Green Day’s American Idiot: Beyond Music Heather McCaffery
Billie Joe Armstrong, Tre Cool, and Mike Dirnt, the trio that now makes up Green Day, emerged from the politically-charged cracks in the walls of 924 Gilman, a punk club in the East Bay of California. All three boys, who met as teenagers, grew up in broken working-class homes consisting of overworked or absent parents, boredom, and a desire to make music and have a voice (Colapinto, 2005). In their early days, Green Day wrote music flooded with their teenage tendencies for drugs, masturbation, and angst. Their first major success as artists occurred with the 1994 release of Dookie, a stripped-down punk collection that captured the rebellious, assertive minds of the young adults (Hendrickson, 2005). As time passed, Green Day ventured further into the punk genre and began paying more attention to what was happening in the surrounding world. By the early 2000s, as the United States was in the clutches of political turmoil, American Idiot was taking shape. Combining the experiences of his working-class upbringing with a political outcry, Billie Joe Armstrong wrote the album that would change the image of Green Day (Colapinto, 2005). A Newsweek article writes that “No one expected these guys to nail the fear, frustration and apathy of a war-torn nation on the brink” (Ali, 2008, para. 1). Growing up in blue-collar families riddled with poverty and drug addiction, the Green Day boys were kids without voices and could, therefore, relate to 21st century millennials in the same situations. Combining this with a response to the political atmosphere of the early 21st century, Billie Joe wrote a rock-opera that followed the story of a suburban teen trying to make sense of the world around him (Colapinto,
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2005). The first three songs of the 13-track album focus on the main character, dubbed “Jesus of Suburbia,” realizing that his current lifestyle and world are not satisfactory. The album begins with “American Idiot,” a song that reflects the main character’s and Green Day’s political awakening and rage toward the Bush administration’s decisions at the time, setting the tone of the album (Colapinto, 2005). In an interview with Rolling Stone, Billie Joe comments on the reality that spurred the song “American Idiot”: “We were in the studio and watching the journalists embedded with the troops, and it was the worst version of reality television…We’re surrounded by all of that bullshit” (Hendrickson, 2005, para. 21). The lyrics in the song reflect this hatred of the numbing impact of propaganda with phrases such as “Maybe I am the faggot America/ I’m not a part of a redneck agenda/ Now everybody do the propaganda/ And sing along to the age of paranoia” (LetsSingIt, n.d.). Such a bold opening song led back to Billie Joe’s political roots in punk club 924 Gilman, but other parts of his life helped to create the content for the next songs on the album, “Jesus of Suburbia” and “Holiday.” While Billie Joe’s commentary is packed full of political references, he makes it clear that the American Idiot album is much more than a rebellion against the government, stating “The atmosphere can be antiBush, and I definitely had that in mind, but when you get down to it, it’s a human story… This album is about feelings. I didn’t want to make a Rage Against the Machine record. I wanted to make an album of heartfelt songs” (Hendrickson, 2005, para. 23). The storytelling theme shows itself within the song “Jesus of Suburbia,” which introduces the main character with the opening line “I’m the son of Rage and Love/ The Jesus of Suburbia” (LetsSingIt, n.d.). Throughout the song, Billie Joe sings of a suburban middle-class teen from a broken home who is longing to find his place away from the grips of society. This Jesus of Suburbia is a mirror
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image of all three members of Green Day as teens. As bassist Mike Dirnt commented to Rolling Stone, he always grew up on the “outside looking in” (Colapinto, 2005, para. 5). In an interview, Billie Joe explains how he wrote the middle songs of American Idiot with millennials in mind. He noticed the difficulties of growing up at a time when political controversy was at the forefront and all working-class citizens felt that their voices were being ignored. He explains that “The thing about Bush is that the way he did grow up misrepresents an entire majority of middle-class and working-class and poor America… because he doesn’t know what it’s like to be working-class or poor” (Colapinto, 2005, para. 18). In the song “Jesus of Suburbia,” the character of the same name expresses his distaste in his conformity-based suburban town, the people around him, and even his own identity, like Billie Joe (LetsSingIt, n.d.). At the end of the nine-minute song, he decides that it is best to gather his friends and escape suburbia, described in “Holiday,” in the same way that Billie Joe and his bandmates used the punk community to escape their situations (Colapinto, 2005). The song even touches on other controversial, yet relatable, topics such as mental illness with the lines “Are we demented or am I disturbed? / …Oh therapy, can you please fill the void?/ Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed?/ Nobody’s perfect and I stand accused/ For lack of a better word and that’s my best excuse” (LetsSingIt, n.d.). It is apparent that the album is meant to sink beyond a political level. “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” and “We are the Waiting,” the next two songs on American Idiot, have more of a personal appeal. At this point in the album, Jesus of Suburbia has arrived in the city and realizes that, beyond the media-filled, monotonous life that he was accustomed to, he has no direction anymore (LetsSingIt, n.d.). Billie Joe explains this identity crisis in a Rolling Stone interview:
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That was happening in the lead-up to the Iraq War. I was thinking, “Give me a debate.” I mean, I wonder sometimes, “Am I a conservative? I have kids and I don’t want them watching stuff on TV that’s not appropriate. That’s a conservative position. I have friends who are conservative. So what am I? What do I actually feel and think? Let’s talk; give me an argument.” (Colapinto, 2005, para. 16) While trying to find their purpose and identity in the early days, Green Day turned to drugs and destruction to quench their need for fulfillment (Hendrickson, 2005). Jesus of Suburbia’s search for an identity started to become hopeless enough that he did the same, which brought out an alterego of his former self who is named after the next song, “St. Jimmy.” This song is followed by “Give Me Novocaine” (LetsSingIt, n.d.). “St. Jimmy” is the metaphorical voice of all the teens who were trapped by the environment of the early 2000s. Its fast-paced, malicious lyrics reference the war in Iraq and government oppression with statements such as “Raised in the city under a halo of lights/ The product of war and fear that we’ve been victimized” (LetsSingIt, n.d.). Billie Joe explains that these events of the time made the album what it is. He tells Rolling Stone that “It completely changed the climate...and it’s impossible not to be affected by that and everything that it spawned: this war, more paranoia, the terror alerts with the different colors” (Colapinto, 2005, para. 15). St. Jimmy helps Jesus of Suburbia see more of the issues at hand, but also draws him towards drugs, sex, and other destructive acts—issues that most teenagers face. The juxtaposition of such serious “adult” politics and world events and a teenager still working through the early stages of life is very intense. This is very similar to the ways in which the Green Day boys were exposed to strong, one-sided political views during their early-teenage days at 924 Gilman before they were mature enough to understand such concepts. This fact only adds to the concept that millennials struggled, but their struggles were covered up by the more prominent political and social issues of the early 2000s (Colapinto, 2005).
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The remainder of the album follows Jesus of Suburbia’s search for identity in a world where American troops are away at war, terrorism has struck the United States, and most of the population seems indifferent to the happenings around them. In the final song, “Homecoming,” after extensive internal struggle, Jesus of Suburbia returns to his mediocre hometown. His return is not a sign of defeat, but a sign of growth and realization; he realizes he can no longer run from his problems and expect everything to disappear. The lyrics reflect “The time has come and it’s going nowhere/ Nobody ever said that life was fair now…/The world is spinning round and around out of control again/ From the 7-11 to the fear of breaking down” (LetsSingIt, n.d.). Jesus of Suburbia has grown up and he now realizes he needs to be proactive instead of trying to escape. With this song, Billie Joe Armstrong is finishing the album with a direct message to teens growing up under the Bush administration. He touches on this when talking to Rolling Stone about society at the time: “Switch the channel, and it’s Nick and Jessica. Switch, and it’s Fear Factor. Switch, and people are having surgery to look like Brad Pitt. We’re surrounded by all of that bullshit, and the characters Jesus of Suburbia and St. Jimmy are as well. It’s a sign of the times” (Hendrickson, 2005, para. 21). Billie Joe wrote the storyline in correlation to what was going on around him during the early 2000s and in correlation to what he experienced growing up in working-class America. Now, he is finishing the storyline with a call for action aimed at teens just like Jesus of Suburbia. American Idiot is a powerful album that served, and still serves, multiple purposes. First, it helped define Green Day as a band and shed light on their influential past. Moreover, American Idiot was a bold statement of resentment against America’s political choices and society’s tendency to be brainwashed by the media. It was a wake-up call to those who were passively letting the country’s events unfold like a movie on a screen. However, most importantly, it was a story for teens of the time who were
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growing up, drowning in the hysteria of mixed messages and societal pressures. Green Day used their fame to write a statement album that would impact many and give a voice to those who, like Billie Joe as a teen, could not speak quite loudly enough. References Ali, L. (2008, December 22). Green Day. Newsweek. Retrieved from http://www.newsweek.com/green-day-82871 Colapinto, J. (2005, November 17). Working class heroes. Rolling Stone. Retrieved from https://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/green-day-working-class-heroes-20051117 Hendrickson, M. (2005, February 24). Green Day. Rolling Stone. Retrieved from https://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/green-day-and-the-palace-of-wisdom-20050224 LetsSingIt. (n.d.). “American Idiot” album lyrics: Green Day. Retrieved from https:// www.letssingit.com/green-day-album-lyrics-american-idiot-6dd8vf
Heather McCaffery is a sophomore Liberal Studies major from Fairfax Station, VA, and is part of the Teacher Education Program.
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Home Sweet Home Tyler Olsen
It was the warm scent of the dark red candle in the back hall bathroom that filled the whole white house with its sweet, sweet smell. Some days, it was Mom’s colorful wax tarts that filled the air. The many colors were repeated in the front windows, where Mom’s beautiful stained glass met the sun’s refracted rays. The glass and light created bright dancing rainbows all over the floor. A similar brightness was reflected off our pool’s wavy sky blue water. Pruned fingers, clogged ears, and sunburns didn’t bother us, so we continued to splash and play all summer day. During the winter, the brightness stayed in the form of sparkling snow. The backyard hill, a white canvas, was dotted by our footprints, sled tracks, and snow angels. 16 P HI L O M A T H E A N
Then, one summer, it was unseasonably cold —too cold—as if something died. It was so cold, not even snow could fall. Divided and divorced, the white house was ripped —torn—in half. The white exterior darkened to a dirty, sad gray. The candle’s flame was blown out and replaced with a nasty stench. Stained glass pieces no longer hung. The bright colors were replaced with an icy cold blue. It became too cold to swim, but the gross green algae continued to grow. Then, a violent storm ripped through, tearing holes and stealing shingles. The pool was damaged and removed along with my swing set. The once soothing blue water and blue swings were replaced with the same icy cold blue.
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Dad attempted to clean the gray walls, yet he didnâ€™t bother with the dirtiest one. Though the candle no longer burns inside, my nose still gets a whiff of its sweet, sweet smell.
Tyler Olsen is a junior Business major from Shenandoah, VA.
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Melting by Jerlisa Williams, a senior Art major and Computer Science minor from Columbia, SC. 19â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Sugpiaq: Orthodoxy and the “Real People” of Alaska Natalie Garbarino
In the early 1800s, a monk named Father Herman who lived on a remote island off the coast of Kodiak, Alaska had become a legend. He was one of the first missionaries from the Russian Orthodox Church to arrive at the Russian settlements in Alaska, hoping to convert natives to the Russian faith. Their reaction to his presence was one of awe and reverence. Many claimed he could perform miracles. In addition to supposedly feeding wild animals out of his hand, according to the natives living with him on his small island, he stopped a flood on one occasion. One day, as a tidal wave approached the island, the residents asked Father Herman to pray for their deliverance. After doing so, he placed an icon—a holy picture used in the Orthodox faith—on the beach and stated that the water would not pass that place. According to legend, the flood indeed stopped at the line, and a similar incident happened later with a wildfire (Korsun and Black 132). This is one example of how the Orthodox Church, brought to Alaska through Russian imperialism, had a profound impact on the sugpiaq of Alaska—translated to the “real people,” as they defined themselves, in the Alutiiq language of the Koniag. Instead of enforcing Russification among the natives as the traders and merchants did, Orthodoxy and its missionaries approached the situation through assimilation with the existing culture, ending some of the harsh practices Russian traders carried out and bringing faith, education, and some elements of modernity to Alaska without destroying its unique culture, ultimately leading to a successful mission. This paper will discuss the impact Orthodox faith has had on native Alaskans: a positive one, when compared to their treatment by the initial Russian settlers. First will be a section of historical context describing the Russian settlement of Alaska, including what
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Alaskan culture was like when the Russians arrived and how the early settlers responded to it. Next the argument will move to the introduction of Orthodoxy in Alaska, and by whom it was introduced; it will also address what these missionaries hoped to accomplish and how they were successful. Then it will examine the native response to these mission, specifically among the Aleut, Alutiiq, and Tlingit people, before reaching a conclusion about the reception of Orthodox Christianity among them. Finally, the paper will detail how the Orthodox Church has since been incorporated into Alaskan culture and the lasting impact it has had on the state and its people through today. Motivating the Russian settlement of Alaska and the introduction of Orthodoxy was Russiaâ€™s history, one which has long been influenced by imperialism. The Russians sought to make themselves competitors on the world scene in the age of colonialism through eastern expansion when European entanglements to the west proved too complicated, the faith following them wherever they went. In the early 1700s, Russian explorers became interested in the territories that lay in Asia and across the Pacific, specifically with the hope that the Asian and American continents were connected. Vitus Bering, Danish explorer and member of the Imperial Russian Navy, agreed to undertake this task in an expedition that lasted from 1725 to 1730 across the continent to the coast, and another that departed across the Pacific in 1738 (March 74-75). His findings determined that there was no land passage between the two continents, and he landed in the Aleutian chain off the coast of southwestern Alaska in 1741. It appeared as if the Russians had found the bolster to their global trade for which they had been searching: a land rich in natural resources, particularly fur. Eager to capitalize on their findings, the Russians quickly employed the services of traders to establish settlements in Alaska and return their profits to the monarchy. The question few seemed to take into consideration, however, was that of the native presence in Alaska.
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As a result of this oversight, many traders engaged in abuses against the native population, coercing them into hard labor and often allowing them to starve (March 76). Yet economic gains were not the only motivations of the Russian settlement of Alaska: the Orthodox Church, closely integrated with Russian government, saw this as an opportunity for missionary work and pushed for a movement to enlighten the native peoples. Traders and missionaries were often at odds, but ultimately, missionary work had the more profound impact on native culture. Before further addressing the spread of Orthodoxy to Alaska, it is important to address its basic definition and roots in Russia. As the oldest form of Christianity, the Orthodox faith claims to be descended over the course of 2,000 years directly from the disciples of Jesus, remaining almost completely unchanged in its Trinitarian beliefs and strict adherence to Biblical principles since the days of the apostles (Fitzgerald 3). This faith is common—and, in some cases, dominant—across the Middle East, Northern Africa, the Balkan states in Europe, and Russia. For centuries, Russian monarchs and emperors had professed Orthodox Christianity as their personal faith and integrated aspects of it into their governance. As Russian settlers established a stronger foothold in Alaska, the church saw a possibility for expansion of the faith, with the support of the crown. The initial goals of the monarchy were primarily economic and expansionist with missions as a secondary motive. This eastward push was the first and only notable time Russians attempted overseas expansion due to slow and ineffective administration across an entire continent and the largest ocean in the world (Vinkovetsky 6-7). Because of this, Bering’s settlements along the Aleutian chain struggled to gain profit, and others stepped in to stake their own claim, among them Grigori Shelikov and Ivan Golikov, founders of the Russian American Company. They formed this coalition of fur and skin trading in 1781 and shortly established a commanding presence in the North Pacific (March 82-83). With greater
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influence and greater demand came the problem of how to increase the efficiency of the fur trade; one of the more common solutions was the exploitation of native labor, with government officials more concerned with profit than morality. In part, Russian traders sought to exploit native labor—an act in contradiction to Orthodoxy—because of their unfamiliarity with life in Alaska. Ethnic groups such as the Aleut in the Aleutian Islands, the Koniag on Kodiak Island, and the Tlingit on the mainland had mastered the art of survival in the harsh climates, adapting through kayaks, hunting, fishing, and making thorough use of skins and pelts. Shelikov and his Russian American Company, however, had other uses in mind for this labor: establishing a lasting colony that did not need to rely on Russian or outside resources (Black, “The Story of Russian America” 75). The most convenient method was a rapid conquest of islands like Kodiak and an equally rapid enslavement of the population there. The Company almost immediately set about dividing native populations into those who were useful and those who were not, encouraging dependence and in some cases even forcing the native population to fund the Company’s business through coercion, threats, and physical brutality (Vinkovetsky 77). When the first missionaries arrived, sent by the Orthodox Patriarchate of Moscow and the crown itself, they immediately set about revealing the abuses against the native population, for which few cared before the missionaries illuminated the situation (Black, Russians 234). In 1794, the first Orthodox mission to Alaska was established on Kodiak Island (Fitzgerald 13). The foundation the missionaries laid spread across the Aleutian chain and to southern parts of the mainland, halted from northern expansion by the purchase of Alaska by the United States in 1867. Thus, the faith reached primarily the Koniag, Aleut, and Tlingit peoples. In 1793, Shelikov asked a leader of the Orthodox Church in Russia to send a priest willing to provide education to the natives, and this leader chose
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eight monks from a Siberian monastery to accomplish the task (Fitzgerald 15). One of these eight was a monk named Father Herman who was later canonized as a saint in the Orthodox Church. Father Herman and his fellow missionaries landed on Kodiak Island on September 24, 1794, known to many today as the date when Orthodoxy first began to grow in Alaska (Korsun and Black 22). What proceeded was a system of religious education among the natives before they were allowed to be baptized according to the tenets of the church. Father Herman had an enormous influence on the population, frequently writing to his superiors in Russia for aid and supplies unavailable in Alaska. The first few years of the mission were marked with hardship (Black, Russians 233). The missionaries, especially Father Herman, hoped to enlighten a people who, they considered, had not found God, but they faced a number of challenges upon arrival in Alaska. The first years resulted in several disappointments, the most notable of which was the treatment of the natives by the Russian American Company. Father Herman wrote to the leaders of his monastery in Russia that the natives were forced into labor under threat of armed guards, fell into illness without treatment, were often homeless and separated from their families, and were allowed to starve by being fed only the undesirable remains of animals used by the Company for trade (Korsun and Black 48). With the arrival of the missionaries, however, this treatment began to change. According to Alaska historians Sergei Korsun and Lydia Black, Father Herman was the fiercest advocate for the rights of natives, defending them without hesitation as often as necessary, and quickly working to find paid work for the sugpiaq (49, 76). Father Herman and his fellow missionaries opened schools to teach the natives reading, writing, agricultural techniques, and information about the faith; the schools also allowed them to spare some of the younger children from harsh labor. Father Herman personally advocated for the better treatment of the natives as often as
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necessary, and he even sheltered a group of orphans in his home off the coast of Kodiak (Korsun and Black 125). Orthodox tradition in both the church and among native Alaskans holds that Father Herman performed a number of miracles while there, such as the story of the tidal wave mentioned earlier, earning him somewhat of a following. Yet he always reminded his students to give glory to God instead of to him. His humility allowed him to aid the natives on an individual level in a way the Company had never considered. He treated the â€œreal peopleâ€? as humans (Korsun and Black 49). Because of the work of the first missionaries, the Orthodox faith in Alaska grew; baptisms among the native population increased until it was evident to the Russian settlers that a bishop was necessary to oversee church life in the colony. Several decades later, Father Innocent Veniaminov was selected by church leadership in Russia for this position (Nordlander 19). Father Innocent arrived in Alaska when he was assigned to a position on the Aleutian chain with his family. Shortly after their arrival, almost the entire village to which they were assigned was baptized into the Orthodox faith. The family claimed to have won so many converts by learning the language of the people they were serving and making the faith accessible to all (Garrett 53). In a fashion that is relatively unique to missions, the Veniaminov family respected and attempted to understand the native culture and added a faith to it without destroying or changing the culture and without punishing anyone unwilling to convert (Garrett 57). The family even dressed like the natives and ensured that all participants were fully willing and consensual before their baptism; it was a faith of choice that was never forced upon participants, but offered as a supplement to their current lives (Garrett 62, 91, 110). In December 1840, Father Innocent became the first Orthodox bishop in Alaska (Garrett 138). The missionary efforts there had grown with considerable success. Bishop Innocent did everything within his power to provide for the lives of
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the people in his care. He quickly commissioned the construction of new churches, encouraged the use of Russian medicine to battle smallpox, built schools, and transcribed literature and Biblical writings into the languages of the people, an endeavor which increased reading proficiency throughout the population. Demonstrating his humility, he even participated in the construction and decoration of several of the churches he commissioned (Black, Russians 247). His position required him to spend a significant amount of time traveling, either by foot or by boat, to personally visit each of the churches in his care. These journeys were primarily to provide supplies to isolated villages and ensure that the work of Bishop Innocentâ€™s priests had a positive impact on the parishioners (Garrett 197). A few short years after his appointment, what had come to be known as the Orthodox Church in America now contained nearly 20,000 members, all under the care of Bishop Innocent (Garrett 184). His grit and willingness to deeply involve himself in the life of his flock made him uniquely suited to be the first bishop of the Orthodox Church in America and allowed him to have a positive effect on the work there. In 1868, one year after the United States purchased Alaska, the Russian presence had significantly withdrawn from Alaska, though a small number of priests had been permitted to remain to continue the work of the church. Bishop Innocent received a promotion within the church hierarchy to the status of Metropolitan, a position which called him to Moscow and gave him the power to petition the tsar for the creation of the Orthodox Missionary Society. This society continued its work throughout the church in America under now-Metropolitan Innocentâ€™s direction (Garrett 283, 305). Nearly one hundred years after his death in 1879, Metropolitan Innocent was canonized a saint by the Orthodox Church in America with the support of the Russian Orthodox Church, establishing his personal legacy among the faithful in Alaska. His hope of enlightening the natives of Alaska had a lasting impact (Garrett 317).
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One of the reasons these missionary efforts were ultimately successful was the technique the Russians employed in conversion. Parts of Russian history contain stories of forced conversions ordered by the monarchy, but in this case, the church and missionaries had more direct control. As mentioned previously, one of their methods was assimilation. The missionaries quickly adapted to the Alaskan lifestyle, learning their agricultural techniques and suggesting a few Russian methods, using native forms of transportation, dressing as the natives dressed, and avoiding punishing them for their existing beliefs. One of these beliefs was shamanism, which the missionaries taught was a power granted by God, one that was ultimately harmless in a religious context and even potentially helpful (Black, Russians 224). This patient and understanding attitude encouraged conversion and never forced it on unwilling converts. Bishop Innocent was largely responsible for this by overseeing the administrative expansion of the Orthodox Church in America. Under his guidance, the church reached a diverse and globally unique culture without detracting from or damaging either the culture or the faith (Vinkovetsky 157). In fact, these two facets complemented each other rather well. The Aleuts in particular already believed in a single creator, providing a foundation for Orthodox belief due to its consistency with what they already held as truth. Additionally, the natives lived by a code of conduct that was in close alignment with Orthodox practices, including basic moral tenets such as honesty, fairness, and generosity (Garrett 57-58). The priests and missionaries presented a kind of open door for anyone to enter, one in which many natives were quite interested, as it made a harmonious extension of their own lives. The Koniag and Aleut were among the most receptive (Garrett 110). Perfect success was not always the case, however. The missionaries, including the Russian American Company that preceded them, encountered stubbornness and often open hostility from the Tlingit of the
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mainland. The Tlingit had come into conflict with the Company over what they felt was an infringement on their lifestyle. Additionally, the Company prohibited outside trade beyond their jurisdiction. When the tensions reached a climax, Tlingit warriors attacked a Russian outpost near modern-day Sitka, which was later firmly and irrefutably established by the Company under Baranov, forcing a mutual cooperation that improved relations between Russians and natives on the mainland (Black, â€œThe Story of Russian Americaâ€? 76-77). In fact, Sitka eventually became the seat of the Orthodox Church in America, where Bishop Innocent established his headquarters. Russian reports had informed him that the Tlingit were unruly and violent, but his impression upon arrival was that of a people quite agreeable, if distinctly proud. An illness provided an opportunity for reconciliation when Tlingit medicinal practices proved insufficient, requiring the use of Russian medicine (Garrett 105-107). As relations improved, Bishop Innocent continued in his work; though initially the conversion rate was relatively slow, he persisted in helping the Tlingit establish a written language and sowed the seeds for a faith that continues in the region to this day (Nordlander 14). As mentioned above in several examples, the Aleut and Koniag of the Aleutian and Kodiak Islands were significantly more receptive to the Russian faith and lifestyle after the abuses by the Russian American Company were halted by missions. Through the efforts of individuals such as Father Herman and Bishop Innocent, literacy rates, conversions, and recovery rates from illnesses increased throughout the settlements. Prosperity for both the Company and the church depended on native cooperation, but the more lasting impact of the church rather than the Company tells much about the success of the Christian methods, particularly assimilation, over the success of the secular methods (Vinkovetsky 19, 23). By 1867, Russian governmental administration faced too many challenges
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in upholding the settlements in Alaska, impacting the missionary movement almost beyond recovery. The government sold its territory to the United States but continued funding schools and educational programs in addition to missionary efforts in Alaska until the Russian Revolution of 1917. These efforts were severely challenged by the sale, however. Protestants and Presbyterians immediately began missions of their own, convinced that the only way they could be successful was through the complete annihilation of the Orthodox faith in Alaska. In fact, these missionaries directed more of their focus on converting the Orthodox than on converting the natives (Black, Russians 247). Some of this was exacerbated by Bishop Innocent’s strict prohibition of outside missions in the Sitka region, breeding an attitude of resentment and driving some away from the faith (Norlander 11). Orthodoxy struggled from this point, especially after losing Russian support in 1917, but it still maintains a strong and historic presence throughout the state to this day. Today, due to the missionary efforts of the Russian Orthodox Church, Orthodoxy has spread from Russia across the United States by the actions of everyday people. What grew out of these missions was a truly accessible faith that attempted, to the best of its ability, to exclude no one (Black, Russians 225). In most historical accounts, the narrative of Russian America ends in 1867 with its sale to the United States, but the Russian legacy in the form of the Orthodox Church has continued to grow and impact areas of the country far beyond Alaska. The resulting Orthodox Church in America alone claims roughly 115,000 faithful today, not including Orthodox faithful from other cultural dioceses (Krindatch 537). One can still visit the birthplace of Orthodoxy in America. The first church established by the missionaries, Three Saints Orthodox Church, still stands in modern-day Old Harbor on Kodiak Island. St. Herman’s Seminary contains an archive that houses original documents from the Russian American Company and the missionaries themselves. Orthodox
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missionary efforts are ongoing to this day, not as a means of conversion, but rather as a supplement to a remote extension of the faith that has unequal access to resources available to the Orthodox faithful elsewhere. As movements in nativism increase, these missionaries continue their historic tradition of assimilation and have encouraged the preservation of native culture which thrives today (Worl 319). Overall, the efforts of the Russian Orthodox Church to enlighten a unique cultural group with Christianity and end harsh practices by the Russian American Company were successful. Father Herman and Bishop Innocent continue to receive recognition by Orthodox Christians worldwide, but particularly in Alaska, where the people hold these two figures as a source of great cultural pride. Their impact, at least in its immediate aftermath, was productive and enriching, providing education, faith, economy, and medicine to a highly isolated and remote cultural group. When examining the continued presence of the Orthodox Church in Alaska today, it is clear that the missionaries achieved their goals: they opened the door to conversion through assimilation and respect instead forcing it on the natives. In the long term, however, this impact is more difficult to discern. Orthodoxy is not a dominant religion in either Alaska or the rest of the United States. Stubborn resistance and determined presence alone are not enough to determine a quantifiably positive or negative impact on the native population, especially given, some argue, such great diversity and apparent lack of unity (Oleska 286). However, this diversity is what makes the Orthodox faith unique; as a universal religion, Orthodoxy seeks not to unify through similarity, but through individuality. The faithful in Alaska, those first members of the Orthodox Church in America, represent this vision of global diversity by keeping the churchâ€™s tradition there of upholding their unique culture while still preserving the faith. This makes the ultimate goal of the missionaries a success in the eyes of the church and its faithful, and this positive impact among Alaskan natives can still be seen today. 30â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Works Cited Black, Lydia T. Russians in Alaska. University of Alaska Press, 2004. Black, Lydia T. “The Story of Russian America.” Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska. Smithsonian Institution, 1988, pp. 70-82. Fitzgerald, Thomas E. The Orthodox Church. Greenwood Press, 1995. Garrett, Paul D. St. Innocent: Apostle to America. St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1979. Korsun, Sergei and Lydia Black. Herman: A Wilderness Saint. Holy Trinity Publications, 2012. Krindatch, Alexei D. “Orthodox (Eastern Christian) Churches in the United States at the Beginning of a New Millennium: Questions of Nature, Identity, and Mission.” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion, vol. 41, no. 3, 2002, 533-563. March, G. Patrick. Eastern Destiny: Russia in Asia and the North Pacific. Praeger, 1996. Nordlander, David. “Innokentii Veniaminov and the Expansion of Orthodoxy in Russian America.” Pacific Historical Review, vol. 64, no. 1, 1995, 19-36. Oleska, Michael. “The Orthodox Church and Orthodox Christian Mission from an Alaskan Perspective.” International Review of Mission, vol. 90, no. 358, 2002, 281-288. Vinkovetsky, Ilya. Russian America. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. Worl, Rosita. “Alaska Natives Today.” Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska. Smithsonian Institution, 1988, pp. 319-325.
Natalie Garbarino is a senior History major from Haymarket, VA.
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Chris Cavero is a junior Chemistry major from Bristow, VA.
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Christian Sanchez In Meditation Three by Rene Descartes, he claims that a God exists since something finite such as ourselves could not possibly have created an idea of something so perfect, so powerful, and so infinite. Thus, the idea of God must be innate within us; to emphasize, we must have been designed to have the thought of God by God himself. Descartes’s argument is that “the perception of the infinite is somehow prior in me to the perception of the finite, that is, my perception of God is prior to my perception of myself” (31). I recognize the possibility of something infinite producing something finite, such as an all-powerful God creating humans. However, I also recognize that there exist examples in which the finite can create something infinite, leading me to believe that humans could have created the idea of God. In essence, I want to investigate the possibility of the finite existing prior to the infinite, which would be the start of refuting Descartes’s argument for the existence of God. First, it is worth exploring if a finite being could comprehend something infinite altogether. I will take a different approach using mathematical concepts as a foundation to work upon. Maybe a mathematical understanding will clue me in as to what would happen in the world we perceive. I would like to focus on a concept called the “limit.” A limit will let some variable x approach infinity for any given function to get a sense of what the function does beyond our number line. When we take a limit, we can get a variety of answers such as pi, zero, infinity, etc. Essentially, any output is possible when we go out towards the infinite. However, our answers of pi, zero, and infinity depend on our original function. The answer comes from a finite function that journeys into the infinite
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and returns with something finite that we can comprehend. Now, there could be something strange happening beyond the number line rendering our eventual answer as nonsense. For right now, I will assume that the function does not mysteriously skip or scatter after a certain amount of time in “infinity land.” This raises the question “How do we know these functions are finite to begin with?” The follow up question to that is “At what point does a finite function become infinite?” Steve Patterson, a mathematician and philosopher, states that “Each time you plug numbers into your equations, you will have concrete values, and nothing more. The above graph ends at 6-and-a-hair. The lines do not stretch beyond it.” To clarify, he states this about a graph that has a window of six for all axes. Therefore, the function is finite only for the points on which it was graphed. This would imply that seven and negative seven are a part of infinity now, respectively. Nevertheless, infinity is such a great concept that I am skeptical whether or not I can say seven is a part of infinity because I know seven is finite. Both cannot be true. As a result, I stand by the idea that the graph is there whether we choose to draw it or not. After all, the beauty of the limit is to let us understand the behavior of a graph without having to evaluate each individual value. Therefore, it sparks the idea that the finite could potentially reach something infinite in the real world. In relation to the original topic, I am led to believe that somehow Descartes has a flaw in his claim regarding the finite, like the self, not being able to comprehend something infinite like a God. All in all, we can make sense of infinity just by letting our variable ride the graph towards its limit, but where the finite meets the infinite is a borderline still unknown. Next, I want to question if the finite and infinite truly live independent of one another. A mathematical topic that will help answer this arises from what are called infinite sums. For example, 1 + ½ + ¼+ ⅛ +… tends
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towards two. Can an infinite summation converge to a finite value so neat as the number two? If we look closer at this sum, it is the mere dot, dot, dots after the ⅛ that we cannot fully comprehend, but that does not stop us from getting the final approximation of two. As a rebuttal, Patterson would most likely say, “In a strict sense, ‘to converge’ means ‘to get arbitrarily close to— but not actually reach — a finite sum.’” I agree that an infinite sum should not have an equal sign following it for the exact reason that they are infinite. On the other hand, this sum is getting so ridiculously close to two, that we might as well call it two. Let us look at an example that will show why I can comfortably make this conclusion. Consider this: 1/9 is equal to .1 repeating, 2/9 is equal to .2 repeating, 3/9 is equal to .3 repeating. Let us skip all the way to 9/9 which is equal to .9 repeating. In fact, nine divided by nine is also equal to one. So, .9 repeating must be equal to one! Therefore, I can conclude that an infinite value can be represented as something finite. There are many mathematical proofs of .9 repeating being equal to one, so this is not a new idea to the math community. Although the pattern looks very real, one could ask “How do we know that our math has not misrepresented these equalities?” I agree. Maybe 1/9 is not equal to .1 repeating like we think it is; however, if we choose to accept that .9 repeating is equal to 1, then I can say that the infinite sum mentioned above has all the potential to be equal to two. Consequently, I am confident that something finite can be represented as something infinite since they depend on one another. Moreover, the question remains whether or not the infinite created the finite or vice versa. Descartes claims that we cannot add or subtract from God since he is infinite. “On the contrary, I judge God to be actually infinite, so that nothing can be added to his perfection” (Descartes 32). I agree with the prior statement. This could mean that if we try to subtract
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something from God, whatever is left would collapse under itself. In a mathematical interpretation, we could never take something finite out of infinity. That is to say, we could subtract all the finite numbers we want from infinity, but it will never generate a finite number. Thus, how could an infinite amount of something produce a finite amount of anything? Besides, if we assigned a value to such a calculation with infinity, then it would lead to mathematical inconsistencies such as 1= 0. All in all, this is certainly the reason we do not let infinity play with the real numbers. However, we do not have this issue when we work the other way around. If we add numbers together such as 1+2+3… eventually, this summation will diverge towards infinity. Essentially, this is a much simpler process, and it shows that something finite could create something infinite. I have still not completely convinced myself, so I will consider one more infinite sum that will provide a more interesting conclusion: 1-1+1-1+1… What does this sum tend towards? This oscillating series all depends on what number we end on. If we end on +1 then our answer is simply 1, but if we end on -1 then the answer is 0. What is the final answer? Typically, when mathematicians get two answers for one given problem we just throw out the entire problem and call it “divergent.” I will not settle for that answer yet. If we are forced to assign this summation a value, then we will call the sum equal to ½. There is some algebra behind that, but for right now, just accept that ½ is what we would expect the answer to be. To get an idea of how awkward this desired answer is, let us use a real-world application. Let us flip a light switch on and off for an infinite amount of time that controls the light in another room. When infinity is “finished,” we will walk in the room, and what do we expect to see? Well, if we use our assigned value of ½ then this would mean that the light is half on and half off. Strange. What does this mean in terms of an infinite, all-knowing God? We had an example of an infinite sum that converged to a comprehendible value of
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two. We had an example of an infinite sum that diverged towards infinity. In other words, the finite can create the finite, and it can also create something infinite. Furthermore, our example that diverged did not make too much sense when we forced a value to it because it is approaching infinity and did not return. This is exactly how we would expect infinity to behave if we assigned it a value as stated above. As a result, there is a higher success rate taking finite numbers to produce other finite numbers and racing them off to approach infinity. Not only that, but any subtraction from the infinite could not have created the finite numbers. Since this does not work, I believe that these infinite processes must have started with the finite. There is a chance that I am using weak analogies with all the mathematical examples listed above. I admit that for every analogy, we lose a bit of the truth and a bit of the actuality from the real subject matter at hand. Personally, I just wanted to work with something that I understood before I begin to evaluate the truthfulness of Descartes’s argument. Mathematics leads me to believe that a finite number can create an entire number system because infinity cannot produce a finite answer with standard operations, so those operations are forbidden. However, the finite integers can sometimes lead us to the infinite, as seen with limits and infinite sums. For me, that is enough evidence to bring back to the subject matter at hand. Despite Descartes’s logic and the evidence provided behind it, I do not think that a God necessarily put the thought of Him in us. In conclusion, I do not see it happening mathematically; similarly, I do not see it happening in the world we perceive. Indeed, this may be influenced by personal preference since it is dependent on whether one puts one’s own faith in logic or mathematics.
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Works Cited Descartes, Rene. Mediations on First Philosophy. Translated by Donald A. Cress, 3rd ed., Hackett Publishing Company, 1993. Patterson, Steve. “Logic and Infinity: The Errors of Calculus.”Steve Patterson, 13 Sept. 15, steve-patterson.com/logic-and-infinity/. Accessed 4 Feb. 2018.
Christian Sanchez is a sophomore Mathematics major from Jacksonville, FL.
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Thought by Shayla Martin, a junior Art major and Psychology minor from Patrick Springs, VA.
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In Darkness by Shayla Martin, a junior Art major and Psychology minor from Patrick Springs, VA. 41â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Sexual Segregation and the Differing Molts of Willow Ptarmigan (Lagopus lagopus) Jessica Wilson
Birds have numerous characteristics that set them apart from other organisms, and feathers are one of the most remarkable avian characteristics. Though they share slight developmental similarities with the scales of reptiles, avian feathers are unique in their structure and the adaptations that they make possible for birds, such as aiding in courtship displays, thermoregulation, and flight in most avian species. Feathers face a significant amount of wear and over time they begin to degrade. To maintain a plumage of healthy feathers, birds undergo a process of feather shedding and regeneration called molting. Willow Ptarmigan (Lagopus lagopus) live in the arctic tundra, where they have adapted a unique way of molting each year. Molting is an extremely costly process in terms of energy, which presents limitations to the frequency at which most birds can molt. While most birds molt one to two times per year, Willow Ptarmigan have multiple molts per year. These ptarmigan’s ability to have so many molts each year is attributed to the fact that they do not migrate extremely long distances and they are not seriously restricted with resources. For these reasons, the ptarmigan can energetically afford to molt several times a year (Pyle 2007). Due to the additional molts that Willow Ptarmigan undergo, the Humphrey-Parkes terminology becomes difficult to apply when identifying the various plumages of these birds. There are distinct recognized molts and plumages of Willow Ptarmigan, though they sometimes differ in length and extent and can sometimes overlap (Höst 1942). To give as concise a description as possible, males have four separate plumages and females have three. The male ptarmigan’s most major plumage in terms
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of duration is the winter plumage, which generally lasts from the end of October to the end of March (Höst 1942, Stokkan 1979b). The winter plumage consists of all white feathers except for black in the rectrices, and the winter plumage is the same in the females (Höst 1942, Stokkan 1979b). Following the winter plumage, the males undergo a partial molt into their breeding plumage. This plumage is characterized as having more pigmented feathers, primarily red-brown and black, covering the head and dorsal side of the body (Stokkan 1979b). This breeding plumage for males lasts through the end of the breeding period in the beginning of June, at which point the males molt again into their summer plumage. The summer plumage results from a more complete molt that replaces any remaining winter feathers and the breeding feathers with yellow, black, grey, and brown feathers in varying patterns (Höst 1942). Females molt out of their winter plumage around the time that males molt into their breeding plumage; however, the female’s summer plumage is similar to the male’s summer plumage (Höst 1942). Starting in early August, both the males and females begin their partial molt into the fall plumage. Some of their summer feathers are replaced with rufous, brown, and black-marked feathers (Höst 1942, Stokkan 1979b). This plumage remains until October when the males and females molt back into their winter plumage. These molt sequences for Willow Ptarmigan serve two main purposes: they are advantageous for camouflage in their habitats as seasonal changes affect their surroundings, and they play a role in breeding. In the arctic tundra where these birds live, the white winter plumage helps ptarmigan blend in with the snow that covers their habitat, while the pigmented plumages of spring, summer, and fall help with the different vegetation that grows during those months. The additional breeding plumage of the male, the most noticeable difference in plumage between the males and females, is a clear adaptation for reproduction. However, there are additional factors which are now being examined that may also impact
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this differential male-female molt sequence. One of these factors is the sexual segregation which Willow Ptarmigan undergo outside of their breeding season, which takes place from around March to August (HĂśst 1942). During the non-breeding season, females move south to boreal forests and males move north to subalpine areas. Females tend to travel farther distances south than males travel north, and females also leave their breeding areas earlier and return later than the males (Schwab 2005). These habitats may have different environmental pressures which influence different advantageous molt sequences between the males and females. The sexual segregation of Willow Ptarmigan will be examined in the context of the role it plays on the different molt sequences of male and female ptarmigan. There is a pronounced sexual segregation of Willow Ptarmigan during their non-breeding season. After the breeding season, most males move to colder subalpine areas (Gruys 1993) where there are large populations of black spruce (Picea mariana), some dwarf birch (Betula nana) and Labrador tea (Ledum groenlandicum) (Schwab 2005). At the same time, the majority of the female ptarmigan move to warmer boreal forests (Gruys 1993). The boreal forests have populations of balsam fir (Abies balsamea) and black spruce (Picea mariana) (Schwab 2005). Most regions of subalpine forests tend to have less shrubbery than boreal forests, which is an important part of habitat that ptarmigan use for cover. In addition to the vegetation differences, these wintering environments host different predators, weather conditions, resource availability, and other environmental pressures. As the Willow Ptarmigan move to these areas during the non-breeding season, researchers have observed females traveling around 20 to 160 kilometers farther from their breeding sites than the males (Elson 2007). These extra efforts may allow females to select wintering areas with better cover and food quality. This consistent sexual segregation has also been observed in other northern grouse species
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due to different reproductive and survival strategies. Female grouse will travel farther to ensure better chances of survival while males remain closer to breeding areas to secure a better breeding site (Gruys 1993). This reproductive strategy observed in grouse and ptarmigan focuses on the qualities of wintering habitats that prove most advantageous to males and females of these species: for males, the advantage is access to breeding territories while for females, the advantage is better cover and security. The segregation of Willow Ptarmigan over the course of several months exposes the males and females to various environmental pressures which could influence their molt sequences. Studies conducted by Peter Pyle (2007) showed that the spring contour molt was significantly later and more extensive for females than for males. The summer contour molt was significantly earlier and more extensive for males than for females (Pyle 2007). Preceding the summer plumage, the maleâ€™s breeding plumage further develops its pigmentation when compared to females (HĂśhn 1980). Several factors are likely causing these differential molt sequences between male and female ptarmigan, some of which may be linked to the sexual segregation that they undergo. One key factor influencing sexual differences in molt sequences is the availability of food and nutrients in the subalpine and boreal habitats. Unlike the reproductive strategy, which does not focus on the quality of food as a factor considered in wintering habitats, the Gadarsson hypothesis proposes that females select wintering habitats that provide food with higher nutritive quality in order to prepare for the energetically costly process of egg-laying in the breeding season (Elson 2007). A study conducted by Elson evaluated this hypothesis by surveying the crop contents of male and female ptarmigan from various habitats where they are found in the winter. Overall, females were found to contain 60% more willow in their crop, which is one of the most nutritious foods in their diet, and 45% more caloric content than the males (Elson 2007). This data supports the Gadarsson hypothesis while also providing
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information on the different nutrients male and female ptarmigan are consuming significant amounts of, which could impact their differential feather pigmentation. The photoperiod in ptarmigan’s environment is another factor that should be examined. Extended periods of daylight in winter can prompt ptarmigan to begin their spring molt out of winter plumage (Johnsgard 2008). Just as increased daylength prompts the spring molt, consistently short days like those of winter hinder the seasonal molts in Willow Ptarmigan (Stokkan 1979b). These studies point out that seasonal photoperiods play a role in the timing and extent of ptarmigan molt sequences. In Stokkan’s (1979b) experiment, the ptarmigan kept on consistently short days were given six hours of daylight per day, while the other ptarmigan were kept on a daylength schedule designed to represent natural days with an increasing photoperiod during spring. The exact daylengths for the latter group of ptarmigan were not recorded. However, this information can be determined based on available data from an area of the United States located at nearly the exact same latitude. Stokkan’s (1979b) experiment was conducted at the University of Tromsø, which is in Norway at 69˚ north. Point Hope, Alaska (located at 68˚N), has a rapidly increasing daylength starting in the month of February and continuing through spring (AA Dept. 2015). Point Hope’s comparable location due north provides a reference for the increasing daylengths likely mimicked in Stokkan’s (1979b) experiment. Based on these daylengths in Point Hope, the photoperiod during spring goes from approximately six hours a day to well over 15 hours a day by late April (AA Dept. 2015). This >10-hour photoperiod difference between Stokkan’s two groups of ptarmigan suggests that a significant difference in photoperiod is required for there to be noticeable changes
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in the timing and extent of ptarmigan molt sequences. When considering the different habitats ptarmigan move to during the winter, the longest distance recorded between what males and females travel is around 160 km (Elson 2007). In Washington, where ptarmigan can be found naturally, a difference of 160 km due north or south yields a photoperiod difference of approximately 15 minutes at most (AA Dept.). It is unlikely that this is a significant enough difference in photoperiod to influence differential molt sequences in male and female ptarmigan solely based on this difference in longitude. While male-female differences in molt sequences cannot be entirely attributed to photoperiod differences due to sexual segregation, photostimulation may provide insight into a sex-specific nature of ptarmigan molts. Karl-Arne Stokkan (1979a) conducted another experiment which showed that photostimulation in turn stimulated the levels of plasma testosterone and gonadal activity in male ptarmigan. The rise in testosterone levels led to these males beginning their molt into breeding plumage earlier. Stokkan suggests that this indicates a sex-specific characteristic of this molt for male ptarmigan. In other words, these results suggest that the molt sequence of male ptarmigan has evolved partially in response to the effect of the photoperiod on their testosterone production and gonadal activity. The photostimulation of testosterone production and gonadal activity in males is an example of a biological cue that is present in one sex and not the other. The spring molt into breeding plumage for males is also sexspecific; while males have this molt into breeding plumage before molting into summer plumage, females molt directly into their summer plumage (HĂśst 1942). Castrated males do not go through this spring molt nor get the subsequent breeding plumage; instead, they end up molting directly into the summer plumage and omitting the breeding plumage (Stokkan 1979b). This suggests that this stage of the molt sequence is one that
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evolved through male ptarmigan and is a secondary sexual characteristic (Pyle 2007). The spring molt for females and the summer molt for males are comparable to ones that happen in Greater Sage-Grouse (Centrocercus urophasianus) and Mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) (Pyle 2007). It is unclear what caused these sexual differences in the grouse and the ducks, though there are some suggestions. It is possible that males of the ptarmigan, grouse and ducks have evolved the more pronounced breeding plumage in comparison to females to advertise their fitness and ability to sustain themselves despite the energetically costly process of molting (Pyle 2007). This would support the suggestion that some of the sexual differences in ptarmigan molt sequences are secondary sexual characteristics. It should be noted that the sexual segregation of Willow Ptarmigan failed to account for photoperiodâ€™s effect on the molt differentiation between the sexes based on the information that was available at the time of this research. Given the small amount of published research on this specific topic, it is difficult to confidently refute the possibility of sexual segregationâ€™s impact on ptarmigan molt sequences. At the same time, however, it is equally difficult to confidently support this proposition without further research. While it is true that male and female Willow Ptarmigan undergo a pronounced sexual segregation during the non-breeding season, the research about this topic that is currently available cannot support the claim that sexual segregation itself has a significant impact on the differential molt sequences of male and female ptarmigan. Associated factors such as the environmental pressures present in each habitat, variations in available food and nutrients, and the length of daylight have their own distinctive impact on the timing and extent of molts in Willow Ptarmigan.
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As Willow Ptarmigan consistently move to their respective wintering habitats, the sexual molt differences explored by Pyle (2007) can begin to evolve with the ptarmigan population. This could possibly lead to more stark differences between the sexes as time progresses. Paralleling these occurrences with what is being observed in Greater Sage-Grouse and other birds can provide some insight to the evolutionary dynamics of birds and their molt sequences, and possibly suggest some phylogenetic connections that otherwise were not being considered. The intricate specialization of feathers among different bird species has allowed the Aves to proliferate in almost every habitat. The molting sequence of Willow Ptarmigan is one example out of many that highlight the variety of avian feathers, both in their appearance and the ways in which they equip the birds to survive. By understanding how the feathers of a given bird species are cycled through during a year of molting and the advantages to a species’ plumage specializations, researchers are enabled to better understand critical information about how the birds survive. Understanding a species’ fundamental feather characteristics makes it possible to make more accurate observations about other aspects of birds’ lives and the roles they fulfill in their habitats.
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Works Cited Astronomical Applications Department, U.S. Naval Observatory (2015). Duration of daylight/darkness table for one year. http://aa.usno.navy.mil/data/docs/Dur_OneYear.php Elson, L.T., Schwab, F.E., and Simon, N.P.P. (2007). Winter food habits of Lagopus lagopus (Willow Ptarmigan) as a mechanism to explain winter sexual segregation. Northeastern Naturalist 14:89-98. Gruys, R.C. (1993). Autumn and winter movements and sexual segregation of Willow Ptarmigan. Arctic 46:228-239. Höhn, E.O., and C.E. Braun (1980). Hormonal induction of feather pigmentation in ptarmigan. Auk 97:601-607. Höst, P. (1942). Effect of light on the molts and sequences of plumage in the Willow Ptarmigan. Auk 59:388-403. Johnsgard, P.A. (1973). 3 molts and plumages. Pages 37-50 in Grouse and Quails of North America. University of Nebraska Press, Nebraska. Pyle, P. (2007). Revision of molt and plumage terminology in ptarmigan (Phasinaidae: Lagopus spp.) based on evolutionary considerations. Auk 124:508-514. Schwab, F.E., N.P.P. Simon, and S. Nash (2005). Age and sex segregation of wintering Willow Ptarmigan in Labrador. Northeastern Naturalist 12:113-118. Stokkan, K.A. (1979a). Testosterone and daylength-dependent development of comb size and breeding plumage of male Willow Ptarmigan (Lagopus lagopus). Auk 96:106115. Stokkan, K.A. (1979b). The effect of permanent short days and castration on plumage and comb growth in male Willow Ptarmigan (Lagopus lagopus). Auk 96:682-687.
Jessica Wilson is a junior Biology and Environmental Science major from Salem, VA.
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Scott by Laura Folger, a senior Art and French major with a minor in Communication Studies from Stephens City, VA. 51â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Sean by Laura Folger, a senior Art and French major with a minor in Communication Studies from Stephens City, VA. 52â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Emily by Laura Folger, a senior Art and French major with a minor in Communication Studies from Stephens City, VA. 53â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Spiritual Equality Does Not Mean Social Equality: Quaker Women and the Search for Freedom in and out of the Pulpit Savannah Laury
Inner Light and the Founding of Pennsylvania The Quakers, like their famous religious cousins the Puritans, left England in order to pursue religious freedom. However, once they arrived to the New World, they soon found the Puritans to be as intolerant toward them as the Anglican Church had been. In 1648 the Quaker founder, George Fox, had a personal spiritual experience in England. He stressed the importance and validity of the individual nature of religion. While he did not deny the authority of Scripture to convey God’s will, he claimed that a believer can have a personal relationship with and epiphany from God independent of the institutionalized Church, clergy, or Scripture. This is what Quakers called “the Inner Light” (Lippy et al. 280; Crothers 188). This idea was a driving force behind Quakerism, supporting their abolitionist and reform movements, and leading them to craft a more egalitarian society than those around them. However, this idea also threatened the Anglican Church’s hierarchy in England and that of the Puritans in the colonies; as a result, the Quakers faced persecution in both England and the New World to which they emigrated. To escape this persecution, Quakers founded Pennsylvania, fashioning it to be tolerant of all religions and peoples. In 1666, Pennsylvania proprietor William Penn converted to Quakerism. Influenced by the Friends’ preaching and Fox’s visits to the colonies, Penn desired to create a “Holy Experiment” in toleration that would welcome not only Quakers, but any group facing persecution in the Americas (Crothers 312). From these foundations, the Society of Friends expanded and established a legacy of acceptance and equality.
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The Quaker belief that everyone carries within them an “Inner Light” created a society that was inherently more concerned with equality across class and gender lines. The most obvious distinction between Quakers and other denominations was that Quakers allowed women to take leadership roles, even to become ministers. This custom was unheard of in stricter societies like that of the Puritans, which once again goes back to Fox in England. He and his wife argued against the complete social and religious subordination of the female sex, instead embracing the idea that both genders hold an equal capacity for divine inspiration and calling to the ministry (Larson 4). Women in the Quaker church were also teachers, a less progressive position but an important one nonetheless. They ran women’s meetings and organized for reform within the church and society. Quaker women were associated with virtue and morals, giving them authority to speak and teach in the church and home, even to and against men (Crothers 179). However, despite the fact that they were allowed some freedom and equality due to the Friends’ belief in the Inner Light, it was never a truly egalitarian society. While they enjoyed more freedom than women of other denominations, female Quakers were still subjected to a wider system of discrimination against their sex. They had to fight clear social hierarchies and patriarchal obstacles within their communities, as well as persecution from other religions. Quaker Women in Leadership Roles The most distinctive role Quaker women held that women of other societies and denominations did not was that of minister. Most women preachers were itinerant, meaning they travelled on a circuit from congregation to congregation. They were known as “traveling” or “Public” Friends (Crothers 172). William Penn and other important male figures in Quaker and Pennsylvanian society supported the right and ability of women to be preachers. Penn noted that “Sexes make no Difference; since in Souls, there is none” (43). The theological foundation for this belief lay
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in the condition of man before and after original sin. Because men and women were equal before the Fall, the Scripture’s injunction for women to be submissive pertained only to the fallen world. Those living “in the Light,” such as the Society of Friends, could shake off this limitation (Larson 21). It then follows that Paul’s call for women to be silent in the church had been taken out of context by theologians. This order again pertained only to women who were not saved, who did not walk in the Light of Quakerism and true belief (Fell). The women who did, who were called by God to the ministry, were not only allowed but obligated by their faith and love for God to come into his service. Some of the most popular preachers of the day were these women, and they had great success in Pennsylvania and the surrounding colonies. Jane Hoskens, one of these itinerant women, remarked that in New Jersey “[the people of the town] followed us from meeting to meeting, treating us with respect, and the marks of real love and affection” (471-472). The women noticed that there were not only converted Quakers in attendance at these meetings, but also people of other denominations and faiths. Mary Peisley found that the Quaker attendees were “pretty much mixed with people of other societies” (qtd. in Larson 241). Not only that, but the Quaker women also preached to crowds of African Americans and Native Americans (Larson 241). The message of equality and spiritual opportunity for all crossed racial and societal divides, allowing these groups to interact and teach each other. When discussing women preachers in the Quaker tradition, it is helpful to look at how these women were received by their fellow Quakers in comparison to people of other religions. While some of these women, such as Mary Peisley, noticed that they drew mixed crowds when they preached, the further away from Friends-dominated society they went, the less this was the case. These Public Friends faced instances of severe persecution, particularly in Puritan areas where they believed that deviation from the strict social code was harmful not only to the community, but also to their
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own souls. Women in these areas were encouraged in their spirituality, but only within the confines of the patriarchal society. No self-respecting Puritan man would allow his wife or daughter to presume to know or preach better than a man, as this would break the carefully constructed status quo (Lindsey 137). A fundamental reason for this difference in the treatment of women was how each society viewed women themselves. Quakers associated women with virtue and morality. In contrast, Puritans saw women as temptresses, like Eve in the Garden of Eden. Because of this original fall and their inherently sensual nature, women were not to be trusted as the paragons of spirituality Quakers thought they were (Crothers 187). For this reason, Quaker women were persecuted differently than men when they ventured into other colonies. In the 17th century, both male and female Friends had been persecuted for their beliefs in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. However, only the women were searched for signs of witchcraft. When it came to preaching, non-Quakers did not necessarily object to the content of the Friends’ sermons, but to the one preaching them. In one instance, Lydia Norton, a well-known minister, got up to speak in Newbury, Massachusetts. As she spoke, the crowd got louder and louder, so that she could not even be heard over their yells. When a male Friend got up to speak, a Massachusetts man said, “as for Womens Preaching we hold it unlawful, because St. Paul hath forbid it, therefore we think it not proper to give them a hearing… but you Seem to be a Gentleman of Sense, and we will hear you” (Bownas 101-102). Puritans were undoubtedly the least tolerant towards the Quakers and their women preachers. By the late 1700s, however, Public Friends found more communities receptive to hearing the Gospel from a woman. In 1768, Rachel Wilson preached in northern colonies as well as New Jersey and South Carolina to “thousands of well disposed people of all denominations” (Virginia Gazette). The Puritans never fully accepted women as ministers, but as religion diversified in the colonies, other societies became tolerant and even welcoming of these women who were called to God’s service.
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Not only did women take individual leadership roles within the church, they organized as a group to form women’s meetings to discuss reform within church and society. In 1677, the first of these meetings was formed, called the Maryland Yearly Meeting. Like the yearly Friends’ meetings reserved for male leaders, women met to discuss the need for reform, to call for greater love and unity among Quakers, and to communicate their needs and concerns. However, unlike the men’s meetings, those held by the women placed greater emphasis on the domestic sphere. Quaker society saw women as upholders of virtue and morals; they held sway over home life and children--the next generation of Friends. Due to this, Quaker society saw the need to maintain spiritually upright Quaker homes by ensuring that children were being watched over by spiritually upright Quaker women. These meetings were an effort to do this, as the women were given a space to check one another and hold each other to a high standard. In the early 1800s, the Fairfax Monthly Meeting disowned twenty-one women for “marriage contrary to the discipline,” which usually constituted marrying a non-Quaker. Five other women were disowned for fornication or bearing illegitimate children (Crothers 177). These women’s meetings were a place for women to have their voices heard and seek to improve their lives and the Society of Friends as a whole. While men and women’s meetings were held separately, men often found themselves on the receiving end of biting criticism, spiritual censure, and righteous wrath when the two sexes did interact. Sarah Janney of the Fairfax, Virginia Society of Friends travelled throughout the state preaching. On one occasion, a Quaker man with whom Janney was visiting invited “some Men” from the community over to argue with Janney and her fellow itinerant preacher Rachel Wilson. However, unintimidated by these men, Janney responded truthfully and competently to their inquisition about Scripture, bringing “the poor men to Silence” (Janney). Some women, such as Harriett J. Moore, were more reluctant to speak
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against men, having not been raised in the Quaker tradition. Those who grew up as Friends, however, found it much easier to speak up. Goose Creek elder and founding member Hannah Ingledew was one such woman who was not only able but certainly willing to stand up to men, particularly in defense of other women. She had grown up in the Family, being taught that she possessed the Inner Light just as surely as her father, husband, and brothers did, and that God gave her the ability and right to speak when He called her to (Crothers 173-174). Quaker society instilled these fundamental beliefs in its young girls who grew up to be powerfully spiritual women. Another role which women filled in Quaker society was that of teacher. While this was more common even in other societies, female Friends had greater access to education for themselves, and then went on to become a majority of the teaching force. In the early 1800s women frequently stepped out of the domestic sphere into the classroom. Quakers valued education for all, and as the number of schools grew, so did the need for qualified teachers. Because girls were given opportunities to pursue education, there was a sufficient supply of qualified women ready to take positions. When the Civil War came and men were called to the battlefield, the demand only grew and even more young women became teachers. This position offered women independence and the opportunity to become role models to other young women. They developed relationships and communities outside of church or town life. While women teachers could be found in other colonies, nowhere else was it so common as in Quakermajority colonies and towns. Female Friends also combined these two roles of preacher and teacher to voice their abolitionist views. The Quaker idea of equality crossed racial boundaries, and as another oppressed group, women especially sympathized with slaves. With funds raised by her congregation and community, minister Rebecca Hubbs visited with President James
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Madison at his Montpellier home to voice her message of equality and abolition. Elizabeth Newport, a Maryland Friend, claimed that “every Christian must be an Abolitionist” (qtd. in Crothers 193). Despite the vitriol thrown at them by other societies, and even some fellow Friends, Quaker women were drawn toward the abolition of slavery and the education of African Americans. The Friends of Goose Creek educated black students alongside their own children in the first two decades of the 1800s. The Alexandria Benevolent Society founded an integrated school in 1827. In 1832, Quaker women in Baltimore opened a school specifically for young black girls, so concerned were they with “the advancement of those oppressed daughters” (Moore 55-56). In these and many more instances, Quaker women took steps to ensure their own education and independence, as well as those of other oppressed groups. Women’s meetings were concerned with more “womanly” pursuits, and one of these became the abolition of slavery. Women used their position in the home, where many slaves were kept, to push the heads of their households to free their slaves and work toward abolition. In this way, women used the gender roles that society thrust upon them as a stepping stool to more autonomy (Crothers 176). From their mentorship positions as ministers and teachers, women not only had authority in the church or classroom, but also had influence over others. They influenced not only children and African Americans, their subordinates, but even men, their social superiors. In some ways women pulled themselves up to the level of men and gained some forms of equality. The Society of Friends: An Egalitarian Community? Clearly, Quaker women enjoyed more freedoms and opportunities for leadership than the majority of women in the American Colonies. The extent of this equality, however, is less than it would seem at first glance. Yes, Quaker women were allowed to learn, teach, and even preach to their communities. These rights were almost unprecedented in other religious
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societies of the time. That being said, these women still labored under a patriarchal system which made them work harder and longer for the true equality espoused by Quakerism. Within the families, women’s meetings, and classrooms where women forged their own opportunities, they still had to overcome male interference and oversight. While many female Friends stepped out of the home into the classroom as teachers, or became involved in church political life, women were still confined largely to domestic life. This was partly due to Southern conservative influences. Fox, one of the founders of Quaker gender equality, even commanded women to be “keepers at home” and “obedient to their husbands” (qtd. in Crothers 173). It was not until the late 18th century that women began to protest their subordinate place in society. Until that time, the Quakers’ societal conventions greatly resembled those of 17th century Protestantism. While women were seen as the spiritual heads of their households, they were denied economic autonomy or authority in the home in order to “preserve” their purity. Quaker women were careful to protect their reputations as the men of the community worked to “shelter” them from corrupting influences (Crothers 172-173). To this end, even Public Friends who had escaped some of the bonds of societal conventions were nevertheless confined by the mores of respectability. These itinerant women preachers travelled with male companions who acted as escorts. Male Quakers thought a group of women travelling in single-sex groups were vulnerable to corruption by those not walking in the Light of Quakerism (Crothers 198-199). The idea that women were not capable of resisting temptation without the aid of a male companion was a popular one in almost every colonial society at that time. It is interesting that these women were trusted and allowed to understand and teach on the Scriptures, but were not trusted to have as strong a moral standing as their male counterparts. While Quakers stood apart from contemporary religious societies in many ways, they also
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struggled to set themselves apart as the equal society they claimed and strove to be. Due to these domestic restrictions, women sought the company of other female Friends and the freedoms allowed to them through the church. Even in this realm, where women experienced far more independence than in the home, there were still vestiges of the Puritan patriarchal system hanging over their heads. Until the late 1800s, women’s meetings were unable to act without the approval of the men’s larger meeting. The male Friends could, of course, act without consulting the women’s group (Crothers 198-199; Larson 227). However, with the Civil War came not only the liberation of slaves, but also steps in the political liberation of women within the Quaker church. In 1877, the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting determined that both groups must consult the other in matters pertaining to the church. New York and Genesee enacted this change a few years earlier. Some more progressive communities of Friends disbanded the two meetings altogether, declaring that “perfect” equality meant that men and women should “transact business jointly” (“Basis of Religious Association”). Mary Weston, an English minister, noted at a Friends’ meeting in Pennsylvania that I thought it a favour & high privilege I had to sit amongst them for I was sensible the God of Heaven eminently owned the Females in that Service; tho’ so much despised & slighted as their Help in church Government is by the great & wise Men of the Age, even in our Society. (qtd. in Larson 227) Weston’s comment demonstrates that even when church meetings were integrated, and women allowed to speak and offer advice, it was not always accepted or appreciated. Quakers were concerned with the equal education of their young men and women and even African-American children and freedmen; however, this
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ideal was not always put into practice as well as they may have desired. Girls and boys studied the same subjects such as mathematics and spelling, but young womenâ€™s education diverged from that of boys in significant ways. For instance, though many girls were educated past what was common in other societies, their education was focused on making them spiritually upstanding mothers and wives, not professionals preparing to enter the workforce. Despite the growing number of women who became teachers in the 1800s, it was the assumption that women would go on to marry and raise Quaker families, not work outside the home (Crothers 176). So even though women had greater access to education in the Society than they would have had elsewhere, the education they were given was inherently sexist since it set them on a path dictated by societal gender roles. Quakers were not immune to these gender roles and other influences of non-Quaker society that demanded female subordination. Conclusion Jane Hoskens, Mary Peisely, Jane Fenn, and countless other female Friends found acceptance and opportunity within and without Quaker society. They learned, preached, and taught in a society that normalized these activities for women. Though they faced persecution from less tolerant societies, this only highlighted the gap between the Friendsâ€™ cultural norms and those of others. From their founding, Quakers set out to be more tolerant and equal than the English Protestant communities that preceded them. While they certainly were successful in this endeavor, they failed to create a society that offered the same opportunities to all women as it did to all men. A number of female Quakers defied societal norms and gained great levels of independence, yet even they were constrained by patriarchal restrictions. Young women grew up learning that spiritually everyone possessed the Inner Light regardless of race or gender and were worthy and capable of salvation. This idea was religiously radical, but it failed to translate complete over to daily life. The Society
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of Friends could not avoid being influenced by other less progressive societies, and these influences manifested themselves in a patriarchal cultural system. So while the Quakers were undoubtedly the most egalitarian religion of the colonial period, they did not reach the levels of parity needed to be called a truly equal society.
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Works Cited “Basis of Religious Association, Adapted by the Conference Held at Farmington [October 6-7], 1848,” FI, March 20, 1852. Bownas, Samuel. An Account of the Life, Travels and Christian Experience in the Work of Ministry. J. Phillips, 1795. Crothers, Glenn A. Quakers Living in the Lion’s Mouth: The Society of Friends in Northern Virginia, 1730-1865. UP of Florida, 2012. Fell, Jane. “Women’s Speaking.” Quaker Heritage Press. http://www.qhpress.org/ texts/fell.html. Hoskens, Jane. The Life and Spiritual Sufferings of That Faithful Servant of Christ Jane Hoskens, a Public Preacher among the People Called Quakers. William Evitt, 1771. Janney, Sarah. “Accot. Of a Family Visit to Friends of our Mo. Meeting, 1778” in Janney Family Papers. Larson, Rebecca. Daughters of Light: Quaker Women Preaching and Prophesying in the Colonies and Abroad 1700-1775. Knopf, 1999. Lindsey, Linda. Gender Roles: A Sociological Perspective. 6th ed. Routledge, 2016. Lippy, Charles H., Robert Choquette, Stafford Poole. Christianity Comes to the Americas 1492-1776. Paragon House, 1992. Moore, Harriet J. Memoir and Letters of Harriet J. Moore. Merrihew and Thompson, 1856. Penn, William. Some Fruits of Solitude in Reflections & Maxims. Headley Brothers, 1905. Virginia Gazette, December 8-15, 1768.
Savannah Laury is a junior History major and English minor from Columbia, MD.
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Reflection by Jerlisa Williams, a senior Art major and Computer Science minor from Columbia, SC. 66â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Poema en el estilo de Vicente Huidobro Crystal Carter
Crystal Carter is a senior Spanish major from Verona, VA. 67â€ƒ P HI L O M A T H E A N
Mexican-American Struggles before and after the Mexican-American War Jonathan A. McDaniel
The latter half of the nineteenth century was one of hardship for a Mexican population forcibly injected into mainstream Anglo-American culture and religion. In the span of fourteen months, Mexicans living in the northern reaches of the Mexican territories, California, Texas, and New Mexico went from being partial Mexican citizens to hated demi-U.S. citizens. Mexico paid the price for its exuberant pro-immigrant policies before 1836, allowing for a flood of Euro/Anglo-American immigrants from the United States to dominate Texas and the northern reaches of California. Religious, cultural, and ethnic differences between the native Mexican population and the arriving Anglo-Americans almost guaranteed clashes, raising hostilities until the eventual independence of Texas from the larger Mexican Empire. The United States would increasingly involve itself in the Texan-Mexican territorial disputes until the Mexican-American War in 1846 made the United States the indisputable owner of contested territories. Now the U.S. had to deal with the leftover population of its hated enemy in a way that satisfied the local Anglo-Americans and the U.S. public at large. Thus began an era of Mexican-American travesty, where Mexican Americans were forcefully integrated into a North American culture that detested their existence, claiming them to be inferior savages of a non-white background. In effect, Mexican Americans became secondclass citizens, enduring a lack of political representation and cultural identity well into the twenty-first century. The aim of this paper is to examine the harsh levels of cultural and religious repression experienced by the native Mexicans in a country that had no desire to accept their role in white society. Contextual evidence dating before the Mexican-American War is used to describe the political
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climate of Mexican-American society and the larger political conflict between Mexico and the United States. Similarly, historical analysis of Mexican Catholicism before the North American Catholic Church took in Mexican-Americans serves to describe the difference between the two forms of Catholicism. The examination of anti-Catholic sentiment within the U.S. allows for better understanding of the institutional sufferings of the Mexican-American population as religious believers of a despised form of Christianity. I. Mexican Immigration To understand how and why the United States struggled to deal with a native-foreign population, an examination of Mexican Immigration policies is vital. In the late 1820s after the Mexican Revolution in 1821, the Mexican government determined that an open immigration policy (similar to that of the U.S.) would theoretically help Mexico establish itself as a trade giant. Government officials at the time noted that “[t]he government of the empire can communicate with Europe in five weeks, in six with Asia, and in three with both Americas (North and South Americas)” (Hernández 37). Fast communication coincided with theories of efficient trade as Mexico had access to both the Pacific and Atlantic with a significantly smaller amount of land to traverse compared to the United States. Additionally, researchers of the time claimed that Mexico was a “jewel” of “untapped wealth,” leading policymakers to believe that a larger population was a necessity for Mexican domination (Hernández 37-38). Unfortunately, Mexican plans for expansion conflicted with traditional territorial division and the incorporation of Indios Barbaros (Native Barbarians) into expansionist plans within Mexico. Territorial ownership was already divided into haciendas (small farms) and the new land needed for expansion was merely speculation. Early plans simply acknowledged some form of expansion into the North American continent, subjugation of the residing native tribes, and the creation of mini-colonies to ferry wealth
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into central Mexico (Hernández 39-40). In a similar vein, the institutional establishment of Catholicism served as a gateway limiting non-Catholic immigrants, forcing them to convert or face eventual deportation (Hernández 40-41). When the supposed wave of European immigrants never arrived, Mexico turned to providing benefits for immigrants from North America who helped populate Northern Mexican territories. Since Mexico could not rely on immigration to deal with its population problem, it resorted to converting Native Americans into Mexicans and allowing westward traveling Anglo-Americans to become a part of the Mexican Empire. With the creation of Texas in 1823, the provisional certificate of colonization held intermarriage of Mexican women to any non-Mexican as a possible way to acquire citizenship (Hernández 56). Between 1825 and 1830, the Anglo-American population had grown enough to outnumber “Mexican Texans ten to one” (Reséndez, qtd. in Hernández 58). Mexico moved quickly to eliminate any further possibility of Anglo-American immigration, fearing a loss of Mexican nationalism to Anglo foreigners. Their solution was the passage of an act in 1830 aimed at denying further Anglo immigration. The act only caused grievances (as Anglo-Americans continued immigration) and led to the eventual 1836 war for Texan independence. After the war, those Mexicans within the Texas territory would face discrimination and violent removal from an Anglo population that viewed them with mistrust. II. The New Immigration Policy After 1836, Mexican officials grew increasingly resistant to Anglo/EuroAmerican immigration into Mexican territory. Mexican policymakers adopted a form of militarized colonialism, whereby all northern Mexican colonies in the borderlands were controlled exclusively by military personnel (Hernández 83). The main rationale was to prevent more
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Anglo-American immigrants from entering the area and causing another rebellion. Likewise, the provisional government of Texas also made threats against the pre-existing Tejano (Texan-Mexican) population, forcing many to relocate or die by raiders. Even those who had loyally aided the Texan cause became targets for expulsion and elimination. Churches and congregation centers were razed in revenge against the Mexican authorities who killed hundreds of Anglo-Americans during the rebellion (Hernández 71-72). Since neither the United States nor Mexico held any legal jurisdiction over Texan actions, no one was accountable for the rampant lawlessness in the region. Mexican authorities attempted to spread the word amongst the remaining Mexican communities held in Texas that they would receive shelter and care if they made their way to one of the military colonies south of the border or east in southern California. While some civilians tried to move, most found security in laying low and avoiding contact with any local authorities. Meanwhile in 1842, Mexico invaded Texas to reconquer lost territory (Hernández 73). Unfortunately, this only increased ethnic hostilities without any real progress. The United States involved itself in the protection of Texas and would not allow further invasion on sovereign Texan soil. After the War in 1848, Mexico still maintained its colonial outposts to the best of its ability (especially in California), but subsequent U.S. claims made it difficult for any meaningful interaction with the stranded Mexican populations. III. Anti-Catholicism and the Mexican-American War In 2014, John C. Pinheiro published a book called Missionaries of Republicanism: A Religious History of the Mexican-American War. One of the prominent arguments surrounding the causes of the MexicanAmerican War was the role of anti-Catholicism in motivating U.S. action against Mexico. Pinheiro greatly attributes the increasingly violent nature
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of anti-Catholic riots to the sermons of Lyman Beecher, a rather influential Presbyterian evangelist, who implicitly aided in one of the first active instances of violence against Catholics. In 1834, Charlestown’s Catholic Ursuline Convent and its attached school were burned down after a mentally ill nun escaped and allegedly told stories of priestly debauchery (Pinheiro, Missionaries 17-18). A mob of locals formed on August 11, went to the convent, removed the nuns, students and priests, and then burned everything to the ground. Beecher was absolved of any crime since he did not participate in the riot, but his sermons against the encroaching European Catholics resonated with many nativists at the time. In 1835, Beecher published his sermons under the title of A Plea for the West, turning the anti-Catholic focus from Europe to the West, and determined that the government should do something to prevent Catholic settlements in the great expanse of the western United States (Pinheiro, Missionaries 20). Beecher played on the lower classes’ resentment and fear of control. If Catholicism could not spread with any strength in the eastern U.S., Beecher claimed, then it would move west and begin the process of “throw[ing] down our free institutions,” under the influence of foreigners (qtd. in Pinheiro, Missionaries 20). Pinheiro asserts that Beecher and other anti-Catholic preachers like himself based their prejudice on two factors: that God reserved a special place for the self-prescribed Protestant nation, and that the Catholic religion stood in the way of institutional freedoms by order of the Pope (Missionaries 22). Ultimately, many ardently believed that Catholicism was antithetical to the American way of life. By the 1840s, Catholics struggled to educate their children in traditional ways; states outlawed Catholic literature and forced the church as a whole to find creative ways around public education. The high point of the anti-Catholic movement came in 1844 when its political rhetoric became intimately tied to nativist anti-immigration ideology (Pinheiro, Missionaries 29). The creation of the Native American party cemented the vehemence of anti-Catholic prejudice in the minds of the wider American
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public. Riots in Philadelphia indicated just how ingrained the nativist mentality against Irish Catholics had grown, and how it continued to grow, much to the disgust of moderates everywhere. Similar riots occurred in New York and Boston, where nativists rallied against immigration during summer elections. Boston riots explicitly pointed towards the large danger that Mexico presented as a nation, with politicians such as J.T. Buckingham of Massachusetts calling the exclusive establishment of Catholicism â€œpractical proof of the still unchangeable bigotry and intolerance of the Poperyâ€? (qtd. in Pinheiro, Missionaries 33). When the United States became further conflicted with Mexico over the sovereignty of Texas (leading to the eventual conflict of the Mexican-American War), anti-Catholic rhetoric painted the Texans as beacons of Protestantism against the legions of vile Mexican Catholics. Both the Democratic and Whig parties recognized the power of anti-Catholic and anti-immigrant rhetoric amongst their Protestant constituencies. When the Senate addressed the annexation of Texas into the Union, all concerns surrounding governance found their way back to Catholicism. Pro-annexation congressmen argued that the Mexican race and their religion was unfit to rule or guide the superior white protestant immigrants currently residing in Texas. Additionally, Mexicans would never allow Texas to be a republic if they were adherents to true Catholicism. Issues over slavery also entered the debate as an undirected Texas could act as another foreign area where slaves could escape to freedom (Pinheiro, Missionaries 39). Further debate between the two parties went through stages of constituent influence. Parties with congressional seats situated in the North fluctuated between pro-nativism and moderation, since the North contained more Catholic immigrants. Southern party regions benefited from higher levels of nativist rhetoric but maintained caution lest they lose the ability to compromise with northern congressional representatives. Pinheiro describes a mentality of
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caution between the two major parties. Neither had a significant amount of members defect to the Nativist party, and so there are questions regarding how much party members from both sides believed in their own rhetoric (Pinheiro, Missionaries 43-44). When the Mexican-American War began in earnest on April 25, 1846, the United States scrambled to find ways to increase the Army’s size. General Zachary Taylor already proved his effectiveness against the Mexican General Mariano Arista but needed men to continue the war (Pinheiro, Missionaries 67-68). Recruitment rhetoric closely followed public sentiments about the war, painting it as an inevitable movement as the Protestant U.S. swept across the West. However, a majority of the recruits turned out to be immigrants of German and Irish ethnicity. Enlistment offered them citizenship and financial support. Pinheiro also mentions that one in every five enlistees was Catholic, creating a controversial dynamic regarding anti-Catholic discussion later in the war. Even those who did sign up rarely did so out of religious sensibilities, instead attributing participation to the cause of nationalism (Pinheiro, Missionaries 69). As the war progressed, peculiar instances of the interaction between Catholic soldiers in the U.S. army and the Mexican government came to light. The New York Herald commented that the “Dutch and Irish Catholics” within the infantry could reasonably hear the “ringing of the bells for matins, vespers, mass, [and] the elevation of the host… in town… distinctly on the opposite shore.” Being traditional, pious Catholics, they stopped, even “in the midst of the drill,” to kneel and show their respect. The “[c]onsequence--some rattaned one fine morning; and the next consequence was desertion” (qtd. in Pinheiro, “Religion” 70). Nativists quickly concluded that if the Mexican priests were convincing U.S. soldiers to desert, then so were American priests. As the nativist saying went, “no Catholic would bear arms against a Catholic nation” (Pinheiro, “Religion” 69). Of course, Catholic soldiers within the army had already fought
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against their Mexican counterparts and were just as effective as Protestant troops. Quite interestingly, Mexican propagandists jumped on the Catholic bandwagon, offering hospitality to Catholic deserters and even presenting the defection of the San Patricios (Saint Patricks), a mixed battalion, as evidence that the Irish Catholics belonged on the Mexican side. Nativist media sensationalists took the story and ran with it, much to the resentment of the rest of the Irish in the army. Rather ironically, journalist George Wilkins Kendall pointed out that the Irish soldiers had strongly denounced the San Patricios before their betrayal, reporting about possible defection to their officers before the event occurred (Pinheiro, “Religion” 71). III. Anti-Catholicism and the Post-War Period When the war ended in 1848 by the signature of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the United States was left unsure about how to manage the new Californian, Texan, and New Mexican territories. Anti-Catholics used the shattered status of Catholicism within the territories to justify their ideologies and bring Protestant missionaries into the area. The U.S. government had to deal with a large population of native Mexicans who suddenly became foreigners in their own land. Nativists wanted the Mexicans removed, marginalized, and unable to receive citizenship for lacking knowledge of a shared United States history (Espinosa and García 63-64). The North American Catholic Church wanted to integrate this distant group of Mexican Catholics into the larger narrative of American Catholicism. The pull from each group made sense from a political standpoint but resulted in rapid culture shock for the Mexican-American communities. Anti-Catholics adamantly refused to let Mexico off the hook during the post-war period. Many cried for annexation, thus eliminating the chances of Catholicism spreading through the American Southwest. The United
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States’ victory felt like an affirmation of Protestant missionaries, who claimed that God wanted the Protestant doctrine to spread in America and perhaps around the world. In their minds, the Mexicans also benefited from this arrangement, making way for the God-chosen Anglo Americans as they made their way down the American peninsula. Of course, some antiCatholics still maintained that the Catholic faith was one of corruption. The influence of Mexico only harmed the U.S. as it allowed the corrupt clergy of the Mexican Catholic church to lay hands on the godless and weak sheep (Pinheiro, Missionaries 64). The United States government paradoxically fought over Mexico’s right to reclaim their lost brethren, claiming them under territorial acquisition. Mexico held that these isolated Mexicans were the perfect colonists for the buffer zone they planned to create between the U.S. and Mexican border (if they were not annexed). When the U.S. claimed the Mexicans as their own citizens, nativists and anti-Catholics alike were shocked by the news. The U.S. was reluctant to allow Mexican officials the right to travel abroad in their newly acquired territories and ask that Mexicans sign up for transportation back into Mexico. Such activities were not included in the treaty and were paramount to illegal emigration (Hernández 113-114). Nativists understood the rationale behind Mexican annexation but refused to cater to the articles within the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. The mere idea that immigrants could become naturalized without any conceivable history of the United States or any form of nationalistic experience bordered on ludicrous. Annexation meant that the United States acknowledged the Mexican race as inferior but recognized that Mexicans were usable in the dominance of the white American nation (Pinheiro, “Religion” 65). North American Catholic influence was a far larger matter as it completely restructured the cultural and traditional ties that Mexicans in the northern territories attributed to their Catholic faith.
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IV. Early Mexican Catholicism and Changes in the 1850s To understand the nature of the radical change that the isolated Mexican community underwent, the context of historical Mexican Catholic traditions needs examination. One of the central features of original Mexican Catholicism is the emphasis on Saint Guadalupe as a mythic figure of power amongst the Mexican commoners. To many mixed and native Indians, she was a symbol of cultural definition, distinguishing the Mexican-Indians, mestizos, and creoles from their counterparts in Spain. In the later years when the Mexican national mentality began develop in the late 1700s and early 1800s, Guadalupe acted as a mother figure for the Mexican rebels. She served as a political figure that fit in any traditional role needed for appeasing the people (León 61-63). Like many of the other traditions held by Mexican Catholics, Guadalupe was and is a product of mixing traditional Spanish Catholicism with a heavy dosage of native Indian superstition and tradition. When the North American Catholic Church began to assert its influence on the isolated Mexican-American Catholic groups located all across California, New Mexico, and Texas, they were shocked by cultural traditions that deviated greatly from standard northern practice. Arriving priests made sure to ban festivities, such as “Los Pastores” (celebrating the nativity scene), patriotic cannon fusillades, and various other activities that arose from local practice instead of orthodox doctrine. Many activities were called unconventional and exaggerated, deviating greatly from the standard discipline required by European Catholicism (Matovina 47-48). Catholic and Protestant alike were repulsed by the selfdisciplinary practices of Los Hermanos de Nuestro Padre Jesús Nazareno (The Brothers of Our Father Jesus the Nazarene), which involved selfflagellation (Matovina 48-49). Most the documentation that historians provide of this cultural and
religious upheaval focuses on the Californian city of Los Angeles. By the end of the war in 1848, there were only sixteen Catholic priests for the entirety of California, three of whom needed to cover south California alone (LeoĚ n 41-42). By 1856, the whole region had thirty-six new priests, with only one traditional Mexican remaining. The rest were overwhelmingly Irish, arriving from the eastern United States as immigrants, but a few were French. A rather infamous priest who presided over the Californian district was Bishop Thaddeus Amat, who served in Los Angeles from 1855 until his passing in 1879 (Engh 86). He served his new congregation with cold determination from afar, rarely involving himself with his congregation outside of traditional doctrine. He forcibly prepared the congregation for the incoming waves of Anglo-American immigrants who arrived in droves. Between the forced elimination of standard church festivities and enforcement of mandatory schooling, Mexican Americans underwent a rapid process of Americanization. Some members of congregations were isolated due to distance from their local parishes, allowing a form of privacy regarding traditional celebrations, even against priestly wishes. Local convents and groups, such as the previously mentioned Hermanos de Nuestro Padre JesĂşs Nazareno, which existed before the arrival of Anglo-American priests, played a significant role in keeping traditional activities alive. Communities often began to receive advice on how to host their own events without the aid or supervision of church priests, maintaining a level of Mexican culture despite the AngloAmerican priestsâ€™ attempts to remove them from Mexican life (Matovina 52-55). This community resistance was one of the only ways the Mexican communities could assert their cultural identities when faced with mass Anglo-American immigration. The more insistent the foreign priests were in their push for conformity, the more rebellious and stubborn the communities became about practicing their traditions in secret.
V. Conclusion The history of Mexican Americans within the United States is one of forced conversion. Starting with the influx of Anglo-American immigrants into Mexican colonies in the 1820s and ending with the Texan rebellion in 1936, Mexico struggled to deal with immigration. When it came to independence, many Mexican Americans had little choice over their absorption by the United States; some were still attacked and belittled despite their aid to Anglo-American immigrants. Indeed, the arrival of Anglo Americans, coupled with the increasing sense of anti-Catholicism and nativism in the United States, was a deadly combination that placed Mexicans under the heel of Manifest Destiny. With each passing year, wherever the Anglo-American population increased, Mexicans saw their influence decrease at an astounding rate, shifting from regional dominance to near marginalization. Even the cultural and religious identities of Mexican Americans were treated as an afterthought, something that needed conversion and civilizing under the Anglo Americanâ€™s guidance. Traditions were banned and cultural identities almost lost to the wave of rapid Americanization forced upon he isolated population. However, for all the culture shock experienced, Mexican Americans held strong ties to their traditions, using religious festivities within private communities as a way to resist the Anglo-American advance across the West.
Works Cited Engh, Michael E. “From Frontera Faith to Roman Rubrics: Altering Hispanic Religious Customs in Los Angeles, 1855-1880.” U.S. Catholic Historian, vol. 12, no. 4, 1994, 85105. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/25154045. Espinosa, Gastón, and Mario T García. Mexican American Religions: Spirituality, Activism, and Culture. Duke UP, 2008. Hernández, José Angel. Mexican American Colonization during the Nineteenth Century: A History of the U.S.-Mexico Borderlands. Cambridge UP, 2012. León, Luis D. La Llorona’s Children: Religion, Life, and Death in the U.S.-Mexican Borderlands. U of California P, 2004. Matovina, Timothy. “Remapping American Catholicism.” U.S. Catholic Historian, vol. 28, no. 4, 2010, 31-72. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/40891030. Pinheiro, John C. Missionaries of Republicanism: A Religious History of the Mexican-American War. Oxford UP, 2014. Pinheiro, John C. “‘Religion without Restriction’: Anti-Catholicism, All Mexico, and the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo.” Journal of the Early Republic, vol. 23, no. 1, 2003, 6996. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/3124986.
Jonathan A. McDaniel is a junior History and Political Science major (with a minor in English and a concentration in American studies) from Lorton, VA.
Chad Trevitte (English) (Editor)
Stan Galloway (English)
Nicole Yurcaba (English)
Karen Rogers (Education)
Jenny Martin (Education)
Ronald Kline (Business)
Gregory Tait (Chemistry)
Acknowledgments The committee very gratefully acknowledges the work of Hillary A. Davis, who supervised the layout for this yearâ€™s issue of the Philomathean. Davis is a graphic designer in the Bridgewater College department of marketing and communications. We would also like to thank professors Scott Jost, Mahan Ellison, Robyn Puffenbarger, Stephen Longenecker, Kevin Pallister, and Benjamin Albers for their support and assistance.