Woman of Light

“When Luz was eight years old, her mother, Sara, decided she could no longer care for her children, sending them north to live with their younger sister, Maria Josie, in the city. Whenever Luz thought of her mother, she felt like a stone was lodged into her throat, and so she didn’t think of her often.”

This quote details one of the many displacements of children in Woman of Light. It also references Sara’s childhood advice to Maria Josie to not linger on clairvoyant images of their mother’s execution. Luz seldom thinks about her mother Sara and thus does not have clairvoyant recollections of her. However, unlike her Aunt Maria Josie, she does not abandon her gift of clairvoyance.

“If the Westsiders were considered poor, they didn’t believe it, for many owned their own homes from the money they earned […] They had come to Denver from the Lost Territory, and further south from current-day Mexico, places like Chihuahua and Durango and Jalisco. Many, including Teresita and Eduardo, had arrived after the bloodiest days of the Mexican Revolution. Maria Josie’s mother, Simodecea, had been distantly related to Teresita’s father, a jimador in Guadalajara.”

Even among the Chicanx residents of Denver, there are divisions established by degrees of poverty. In this quote, Fajardo-Anstine describes a fledgling middle class made up of Mexican nationals who arrived in Denver over the previous century. The “Lost Territory” refers to land ceded to the US in 1848 at the conclusion of the Mexican American War, about 50% of Mexico. The Mexican Revolution took began in 1910 and lasted for 10 years.

“In her mid-thirties, she had a young face and black hair stringed gray along the temples. She often wore men’s clothing and was sometimes mistaken for one by strangers, strangers who yelled names at Maria Josie, names Luz was never to repeat. Maria Josie preferred the company of women, though she didn’t state this out loud. Sometimes she stayed the night someplace else, and every once in a while, she’d bring a woman friend home to Hornet Moon, where they’d smoke cigarettes and drink tequila in the kitchen until dawn.”

While many of the characters face discrimination due to their race or ethnicity, this quote explores how Maria Josie also confronts discrimination due to her sexuality and the fact that her expression of gender does not conform to the expected feminine standards of the time.

“Teresita said, ‘Better get used to it, mija. Soon you’ll be a wife and a mother. They blow themselves up in mines, shatter bones with gears, crush their faces with rocks. Who do you think fixes all that?’”

As Teresita treats an injured Diego, she forces Luz and Lizette to watch. Her warning comes from her assumption that the young women will marry, and their husbands and sons will experience similar injuries through their lifestyles. There are few safety measures for BIPOC and Latinx men at work, let alone measures to control what they do outside of work (or what others do to them).

“Luz would look back on that day with a certain amount of shame. Even then, at eight years old, she felt foolish not to sense what came next—the long winter without adequate food, the blizzard nights when the hearth inside the company cabin grew ice, and those terrible and more terrible things her mother was forced to endure in that mining camp of men. But how could she have foreseen that her father, Benny Alphonse Dumont, would abandon his family so calmly it was as if he were tossing out a pair of heavily worn boots? And, more important, how was Luz to know, at such a young age, that everything, good or bad, is eventually taken away?”

Chapter 7 begins with Maria Josie escaping an abusive relationship with a man and ends with Sara’s husband, Benny, taking her money and abandoning his family. Fajardo-Anstine states Sarah had to resort to desperate measures to keep her children Diego and Luz from starving, implying prostitution with her reference to a camp full of men. This was why she sent her children to her sister in Denver. For Luz, this experience foreshadows her future cycle of loss and salvation.

“Pidre looked to the night sky, where the ancient and cracked face of the sleepy prophet appeared in the starry cloud. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was held in a tight sneer. […]

That night, in cold sweats, Pidre saw his theater blooming before him, and he felt the presence of a woman traveling by wagon, somehow, faster than the iron horse.”

Fajardo-Anstine portrays Pidre as more perceptive of the world, its beauty and possibilities, than other men in the novel. When he sees an open arena on the outskirts of Animas, he envisions it as a theater. While he is not related to Desiderya the Sleepy Prophet, he inherited her clairvoyance—something he will pass on to daughters Sara and Maria Josie, as well as granddaughter Luz.

“It was in that moment that Pidre realized he had entered the strange world of White myth, characters resurrected from the language of story, populating the realm of the living, side by side, if only for one night and one night only. Pidre came from storytelling people, but as he passed the big top devoted to the reenactment of Custer’s Last Stand, he couldn’t help but think that Whites were perhaps the most dangerous storytellers of all—for they believed only their own words, and they allowed their stories to trample the truths of nearly every other man on earth.”

Pidre’s recognition of white mythologization sets a foundation for the novel’s distinction between Western European, English-speaking immigrants and those of other nations and languages. This demonstrates the manner in which white culture historically seeks to dominate and minimize others.

“Maria Josie worked longer and harder than anyone, but she was still a woman and was paid like one, two, and so there was a search for a border, someone to split Diego’s portion of the rent, to pitch in for flour and beans, to let others know that a man resided there. […]

‘You cannot trust a man,’ she explained to Luz. ‘Nearly all have some kind of deficiency, some malformation. They’ve been hurt a lot, menfolk, but they do most of the hurting, too.’”

Chapter 9 contains several references to domestic violence, including the abuse of white women by their husbands—resulting in Luz and Lizette cleaning blood out of their laundry—as well as Sara’s abuse by Benny. Maria Josie seeks a male renter to give the illusion of male protection. Having been a victim of domestic abuse, she recognizes men’s proclivity to abuse women comes from brokenness but doesn’t excuse this behavior.

“‘I want to feel in control of my own life now, not someday,’ said Luz. ‘I want to feel safe, like I can do as I please.’

Maria Josie inhaled quickly and exhaled slowly, watching her smoke turn inward on itself like time collapsing into the past. Luz watched her auntie’s breath disappear into the factory lights.

‘I know, Little Light,’ she said. ‘I want that, too.’”

Chapter 10 deals with women’s strictures in Denver in 1933-1934. Being a woman, Maria Josie receives less pay than men, even when doing the same work. Overall, women have limited job opportunities compared to men and must take extra precautions against unsafe situations. When Luz innocently protests that she wants opportunity, her aunt expresses the same desire, indicating she has struggled with womanhood throughout her life.

“‘I said you don’t need to die. It’s too early.’

Maria Josie understood then that she wasn’t yelling at the boy. She was arguing with death. Somewhere, perched on a rock, she was certain skeletal Doña Sebastiana was waiting with their wagon of souls parked along the tree line. […] Maria Josie had felt her hanging around for weeks, since the day her baby had died inside her, and all she could do was weep. […]

She had halfway lifted the young man onto her lap, as if he were a toddler she could carry, when his father came running down the banks.”

Chapter 13 serves as a prequel to Chapter 12, explaining why David hires Luz when she is not qualified for secretary work: He owes Maria Josie his life. This quote is ironic, as Maria Josie loses her baby to her partner’s poisoning, but soon saves the child of a stranger. This rescue resolves her conflict with death, but also leads to later conflict, as David ends up taking advantage of a 17-year-old Luz.

“‘Strangers are pulling men from their beds, taking them as they sleep. They are putting them on packed trains.’ Luz wound a string of her hair around her finger. She pulled it tightly as she continued to read. She had never seen anything like this before, such defined images in the cup. […]

‘They’re calling it repatriation,’ he said, flatly. ‘They’re deporting us to Mexico to make room for white men without jobs. Doesn’t matter a lot of us were born right here in the USA.’”

Asked to read Avel’s fortune, Luz astonishes him by giving an accurate description of the arrest of Latinx men in California, who are then deported to Mexico. This fortune reflects the real-life treatment of Latinx Americans during the Depression, who were deported so Western European men could have jobs in California, where the economy was relatively stable.

“That night after work, Luz met Avel at the Emerald Room for Tuesday Night Open Mic. Avel hoped some of the local musicians might hear him play and invite him into their bands. Luz liked the idea because she could read leaves there. The owner was a flighty older woman from the Midwest named Lady Red who encouraged audience participation and, during late night shows, varying levels of public nudity. Of course, the Emerald Room was often cited by police, and several times a month, without warning, was closed until Lady Red paid the bribe.”

Denver mirrors fellow Colorado town Animas, where Luz’s grandfather, Pidre, lived: It is described as both tolerant and violent. This is reality for Luz’s family, connecting its members across clairvoyant images and nonlinear time.

“The curanderos lived in a crumbling violet house with a lopsided spiked fence. Against the night, the home seemed like an extension of the clouds. […] Inside was a dollhouse of rooms, filled with those in need of healing. They walked past a young couple in the kitchen seeking counseling on how to conceive, a day laborer in the sitting room, speaking to a young curandera about his foot warts. A rumored prostitute, Diego noted, was in the hallway discussing something in husky tones. The curandera Eleanor Anne had somehow found was an abuela, white-haired and patient.”

In this quote, Fajardo-Anstine describes curanderos, traditional Mexican practitioners who predate science-based medicine. Their relevance remains because they offer healing for non-medical conditions; furthermore, Latinx patients, who are often socioeconomically disadvantaged due to the systemic racism in Denver, cannot always afford standard treatment.

“Lizette sighed, and Luz thought of something that Diego once told her. Every sigh is a breath stolen from life. She handed the pattern to Luz. ‘Honest opinion?’

‘It’s a lot of money,’ Luz whispered, but then she considered the pattern once more. In her mind, she saw Lizette from behind, wearing a crown of red roses. […] Luz could see the dress clearly, fully made and sparkling over her cousin on her wedding day. ‘But I think you’ll have the dress you want.’”

This is an ironic quote in that Lizette is a person accustomed to taking risks, while Luz, to whom Lizette turns for advice, is a person who typically does not take risks. As Luz’s clairvoyance develops, she begins to see visions of the future without tea leaves or other prompts. Thus, she knows Lizette will end up with her wedding dress of choice.

“After listening to the conversation for some time, Luz understood that Steelman was an important attorney and the thin woman beside him wasn’t his wife and wasn’t his daughter. She didn’t engage in the conversation with anyone at the table, only smoked cigarette after cigarette and gazed around the room as if searching for an exit. […] Steelman studied Luz and she shifted in her seat, knocking into David on purpose. […] ‘You know what they say about Mexican girls,’ he said raising his fork with emphasis. ‘Insatiable.’”

Luz’s work as David’s secretary introduces her to a number of locations and experiences she otherwise would never have encountered. In this quote, she ends up at an expensive, white-only club called Suville’s, where she and David sit with Steelman, the Denver district attorney—accompanied by a consort. Luz gradually understands patrons and staff only allow her in the club because they assume she, too, is a consort.

“Luz opened the package carefully, sliding her index finger between the seams… Inside, she was surprised to see the quartz rosary. […]

‘I got it back,’ said Maria Josie. ‘A pawnshop had it on Broadway. It belonged to your grandma.’

‘Simodecea,’ said Luz, knowingly.

Maria Josie nodded in a sorrowful way. ‘You remind me of her. She was very independent, very strong. I know I don’t speak of her much. […] Sometimes we go through things in life that are so hard and ugly, we’d rather forget than remember, but now I can’t remember very much at all. I regret that now.”

On Luz’s 18th birthday, Maria Josie compares her to her mother, Simodecea—executed after killing Pidre’s murderers. Maria Josie gives her niece the one keepsake from Simodecea that she managed to keep from childhood. While Luz inherited clairvoyance from Pidre, she will lose her fiancé and love interest as Simodecea did her husband and children.

“‘Grandma,’ he said, ‘we are here. I’ve brought my daughters. I’ve brought my wife. We’ve come to see our Early Sky.’ He told Desiderya how much he missed her and loved her, pushed his hands through the dirt. […]

Maria Josie tugged on her mother’s dress. ‘Where did everyone go, Mama?’ she asked, looking upward with sorrowful eyes.

‘I don’t know, my baby,’ said Simodecea, who stared beyond the deserted Pueblo at the bluish mountain, railroad tracks like scars etched into its back.”

Chapter 24 ends with a suggestion of Pidre’s future source of grief. Simodecea spies a railroad track, a symbolic scar formed by the encroachment of Western European development. Fajardo-Anstine also draws a comparison between the railroad and Simodecea’s scars from the tragic loss of her husband: She implies the same white force is behind these scars.

“Lizette felt sad all over, her skin, her mouth. She knew exactly what this place was, and in that moment, surrounded by those young White women alone without their families and only in the company of one another and bitter nuns, Lizette was grateful that she didn’t come from a people so unbearable as to hide their own women away when they believe them full of unfavorable babies.”

Lizette begins Chapter 25 wanting to be free of her family. Ironically, she believes her marriage to Alfonso will free her, though her mother is clearly unsatisfied with her own relationship. At the end of Chapter 25, Lizette finds herself in a Catholic convent home for pregnant unwed white women. Fajardo-Anstine implies she faces potential bondage, but her family will always accept her.

“Luz was jolted into dread. If she let him, David would take her virginity right there on his office floor, in the middle of a klan march. ‘Stop,’ Luz said. ‘We have to stop.’

‘I understand,’ David said, and slowly moved forward, biting down on her lip before moving out from under the desk and briskly standing up. It appeared the hollering outside had quieted.

‘It seems to have cleared up,’ he said. ‘I imagine we can go home now.’”

Despite hiding with Luz from the KKK, David engages in foreplay. She recognizes the absurdity of the situation and tells him to stop; he gets up once the riot ceases, as if he didn’t do anything wrong. Fajardo-Anstine symbolically compares the riot to David’s sexual advances, suggesting a similar violence.

“‘How did you know? How could you tell Alfonso was the right one?’

‘He’s good to me. He’s kind. He makes me laugh. He has a job.’ Lizette stepped beside Luz in the shadows and reached for her left hand. ‘That’s all you need, really.’

‘But what about true love?’ asked Luz.

Lizette scanned the crowded summer streets. ‘True love isn’t real, not for girls like us at least. You know who the world treats worse than girls like us? Girls who are alone.’”

In this exchange between Luz and Lizette, Fajardo-Anstine explores different perspectives regarding love. Luz yearns for true love and knows her fiancé, Avel, is not this man. Lizette is more practical, knowing her fiancé Alfonso is not the man of her dreams but a good provider, a source of security and stability. Later, she admits she thought she would feel differently after her wedding—to no avail.

“There were far more men in the concrete dancehall than neither Sara nor Maria Josie were used to being around at once. […] These men were Mexican and Welsh, Irish and Black American, Austrian and German, Polish and Belgian and more. […] [One] of the miners, a man named Benny, told her the others meant no harm. He asked Sara if she’d like a drink of his cup. At first, she shook her head and remembered that her mother had once told them that they ought never to drink liquor. Your ancestors were not built for alcohol. That will poison your body and ruin your minds. But as Sarah recalled her mother’s warning, she turned up her nose and pushed the memory away. She told Benny, Why, sure, I’d love a sip.”

Having lost their parents in their teen years, Sara and Maria Josie realize they alone must secure their futures. They decide to meet potential husbands in their mining town of Saguarita, with Sara burying memories of their mother to do so. Sara later struggles an addiction to alcohol, as her mother predicted.

“He pulled the light string, and the room came alive with white walls and a wash basin, cabinetry, rows of folded towels. They stared at each other, as if understanding for the first time a message written between them. […] Luz didn’t have normal control of her thoughts—her body and her mind had become want.

When she moved her face away and their eyes met, Luz had made a choice. She wanted David. She wanted him more than anything.”

In the unlikely setting of a laundry closet, Luz has romantic encounters with her fiancé and then her boss. Before these encounters, she told Maria Josie that she would make her own decision about marriage, implying she would marry Avel. However, she believes herself in love with David, who simply sees her as another conquest. David’s turning on the light symbolically illuminates the absurdity of Luz’s choice, a decision that will cost her relationship with Avel and job.

“Luz felt scared. She said, ‘What if we don’t want to find true loves? Can’t we just be by ourselves?’

‘I’ve never seen nothing about that. Just nuns.’ Lizette made a sour face. ‘But you know what? Even they have each other and God.’

‘Well, we have each other, too,’ said Luz, knowingly. ‘And you have your Mama and Papa and all your brothers.’”

This exchange between 10-year-old Luz and Lizette takes place when they witness David’s uncle Dominic slap his paramour. It foreshadows Luz’s ejection from David’s life, as he was never going to take her seriously. However, like Lizette (Important Quote #19), she knows her family will always accept her.