Like a Virgin: Erzulie, Yemaya and the Black Madonna

Gays love their divas- myself included. My favorites, however, may not be the ladies you you'd expect.

My divas are saints and goddesses rather than singers. Now, before you judge me, think about this: those ladies are definitely a step up from the rehab poster children and plastic surgery freak shows that populate the current music scene. Check it out-

Recently I spent 7 days in Miami for the Winter Music Conference, a huge event that draws people from around the world who are dedicated to electronic music (a.k.a. house). Unfortunately, even with such an international draw, the WMC is largely devoid of multicultural flavor. In fact, a group of DJs from Brazil told me they wouldn't spin music with a distinctly Brazilian sound (and Brazil is blessed with several) or even anything with lyrics in Portuguese. Sadly, most house music genres undergo similar "ethnic cleansing." The result is that there's nothing to distinguish a Turkish DJ from a Japanese DJ- the goal is now proving one's credentials as uber-hip.

I stayed in Miami's Designer District, an area whose name emphasizes the avant-garde, internationalized fashion sense found in the many boutiques that give the district its name. The Designer District is right next to Little Haiti, which was just a few hundred yards from my place.

Erzulie Dantor

While there, I visited a few botanicas- shops that cater to Vodou, Haiti's own New World African religion. I walked away from the gated community of Design Place, past a big pink hospital and adjoining Jewish retirement home, and into a neighborhood where English, Spanish, and Haitian Kreol words were plastered everywhere, advertising griot pork, auto repair, and Born-Again Christianity.

It's easy to spot botanicas in Little Haiti; they all have murals of Catholic saints who've been enlisted in the veneration of the Lwa, Vodou Gods with West African roots.

I bought a picture of Erzulie Dantor from 3X3 Santa Barbara Botanica, and a Yemaya candle from Isidor & Carmel Botanica. Erzulie Dantor is often showed in a Byzantine icon-esque form, classic mother-and-child representations associated with Jesus and Mary. The difference is that Erzulie Dantor and her child are dark-skinned; Erzulie has two scars on her right cheek, and the child carries a book.

The Catholic Church in Haiti recognizes the same image as that of Saint Barbara Africana rather than Mary. Vodou practitioners claim that the child in the picture is not Jesus, but is rather Erzulie Dantor's daughter Anais, her interpreter. In Cuban Santeria, Erzulie Dantor is associated with Chango, the masculine God-King of Thunder because of Chango's association with Saint Barbara (there's a lot of cross-dressing and gender-bending in New World African religions!).

Erzulie Dantor is very much a feminist divinity- she protects single mothers, women in trouble, victims of domestic abuse, and Lesbians. I am smitten with her (FYI: Erzulie's Dantor's light-skinned sister, Erzulie Freda, is the patroness of Gay men).

Black Madonna

This most popular image of Erzulie Dantor is based on the Black Madonna of Czestochowa, Catholic Poland's most sacred relic and a national symbol. The Black Madonna of Czestochowa is an icon in Eastern Orthodox Byzantine style rather than typical Western Roman Catholic. Mother and Child in the Polish national symbol are dark-skinned. Mary has two scars on her right cheek (inflicted on her by enemies of Poland who sought to desecrate the image), and Baby Jesus carries a book. One significant difference between the Black Madonna and Erzulie Dantor is that Erzulie and Anais wear gold-and-bejeweled crowns, and their halos are white instead of golden. The Black Madonna and Baby Jesus are not crowned, but have golden halos.

Haitians encountered the Black Madonna through Polish soldiers who brought copies of the icon with them during the Haitian Revolution against France.

The Haitians modified the Polish image to suit their own needs. Poland's Black Madonna has fleur-de-lis (a popular symbol of France) on her robe. This symbol of Haiti's oppressors is absent from Erzulie's robe.

Haitian tradition holds that the revolution against France began when their beloved Lwa, Erzulie Dantor, spoke through her priestess, rallying the oppressed majority of African descent to rise up against their French masters.

Like Poland's Black Madonna, that same priestess was physically abused. According to one account, her tongue was cut out while she was tortured after being captured by the French. Another account says her own people cut out her tongue to keep her from revealing secrets to the enemy should she be captured.

As a result, Erzulie Dantor does not usually speak in coherent language when she takes over one of her children in the ecstasy of Lwa-trance.

Yemaya (a.k.a. Yemanja)

The other item I picked up was a seven-day candle honoring Yemaya.

This year, as part of Qualia (a conference run by my husband and myself, dedicated to Gay folklife in Columbus, Ohio, May 1-2), we're having a presentation by Lorenzo de Almeida on LGBTQ themes in Candombl?, an African Brazilian religion. One deity that both Lorenzo and I hold dear to our hearts is Yemanja, the Orixa of the Ocean. (Orixas are to Candombl? what Lwas are to Vodou.)

Cuba's Santeria-Lukum? is similar to Candombl? in that both religions share many of the same Orixas (Ochas in Santeria). Iconography for Yemanja in Brazil has made its way to Cuba, including an image of her as a light-skinned woman with long black hair, a star on her forehead, and dressed in a flowing gown. She's usually seen walking on top of the ocean, with moon in the sky above her as she scatters stars with one hand and pearls with the other. It would be easy to mistake her for Our Lady Star of the Sea if it were not for the cleavage that her dress reveals. This same image was the one I bought at the Haitian botanica that was identified by the storekeeper as Santeria's Yemaya rather than Candombl?'s Yemanja.

This image is preferred by the fishermen in the Rio Vermelho neighborhood of Salvador, Bahia in Brazil. Fishermen keep it in their small shrine to her by the ocean, next to St. Anne's Catholic Church. Yemanja's feast day in Bahia is February 2, the same as Our Lady of Seafarers (in Rio de Janeiro, it's December 31). A few years ago, some politically conscious African Brazilians tried to replace the light-skinned Yemanja with a dark-skinned one, but the dark-skinned fishermen adamantly refused to accept the replacement. It was not their Yemanja.

A similar thing has happened in Europe with some 500 or so black Madonnas; attempts to give some of the images lighter skin have been rebuffed by angry light-skinned locals who insist their Madonna be dark.

Machina, a Polish pop magazine, published a picture of a not-so-Black Madonna in which the image of Mary was replaced by Madonna (the singer), and Jesus was replaced with Lourdes.

It didn't go over so well.