“The Jam-maker and the Driver” by Greer Fabregas
The gentle journey of making jam and the suffocating struggle of sifting through a shipwreck- two journeys that are alike as they are different. These metaphors are the focus of two poems. The first is “Umpaowastewin” by Margaret Noodin, and the second is “Diving into the Wreck” by Adrienne Rich. These poems address the reclamation and passing-on of identity and culture, but where one frames this act as tender and unifying, the other frames it as an isolating struggle. Both of these viewpoints are shaped by the author’s respective identities and culture: Rich’s struggles as a 19th-century queer woman and Noodin’s as a modern, indigenous, Anishinaabe, woman. Using title, format, word choice, motifs, and metaphor, I will look at each poem as a window into the authors’ experience with gender roles in their respective cultures.
The first poem, “Umpaowastewin,” describes a woman making strawberry jam to be eaten in the winter. As the poem continues, however, the reader discovers that the jam takes on the role of cultural knowledge, past and future. Firstly, we must look at the title itself. Translated from the Dakota language, it means “Beautiful Daybreak Woman,” and it is a name. This translation immediately conjures the imagery of light and sunrise… and love for the woman to whom this name belongs. A small blurb preceding the poem confirms that this poem is dedicated to “Pat Northrup, the jam-maker.” This tells us that the poem is crafted with love and admiration, from one indigenous woman to another, an interaction that mirrors the passing of knowledge within the poem itself. Before we move onto the text, however, the poem’s original format must be noted. It is written to be sung in the Anishinaabe language. Noodin sings her poem in a light, gentle manner, her voice high and sweet. The rhythm nudges the listener to sway from side to side. When sung in its original language, we can hear how the words fit together, mirroring each other in their vowel sounds. Many lines flow into the next without pause. I am no language expert, so I cannot comment on the characteristics of the Anishinaabe language; I can only describe the way it sounds to me. Consonant sounds that are often harsh in English, such as ‘k,’ are embraced in such a gentle song. Noodin seems to bounce with these sharper sounds, creating an element of brightness. The song flows, confident, bright, and rhythmic, speaking about a woman whose name is just as light. Moving to the text itself, the first lines read:
She makes strawberry jam
mixing sweet wind and shining water
with thick wisdom
pounding, measuring (1-4)
The language is simple and straightforward, even as it juxtaposes tangible actions with intangible events: the physical act of mixing and making with nature’s wind and water. Noodin leaves it to the reader to imagine the colors, scents, and tastes that accompany her words: the bright red of the strawberries and their sweet, summer flavor. We imagine our own “sweet winds,” and perhaps that encompasses warmth and natural smells. We imagine bright blue shimmering water, sparkled by the sun. Together, these elements of strawberries, wind, and water all create a feeling of freshness, abundance, and ease. Moving on from the first two lines, Noodin introduces heaviness to her poem with the rhythmic and careful actions of “pounding, measuring” (4). In line three, the description of “thick wisdom” grounds us in the jam-maker’s work; there is an element of purpose here. Her work is driven, more important than simply making sweet food. Noodin’s language is intentional with its simplicity. Purposefully, she draws forth intense, stimulating imagery with strong, active adjectives. As the poem continues, Noodin tells us the intention behind the jam-maker's work.
pounding, measuring
everything we’ve cared for
everything we’ve lost
the songs we have not yet sung
the feathers yet to decorate
and all the ways we’ve smiled (4-9)
The reveal is foreshadowed by the fact that preserves is an interchangeable word for jams: weaved into the jam-maker’s work is collective trauma and loss, love and hope. Noodin gives the jam and its creator an immeasurable heaviness. She reveals that the physical journey of jam-making is symbolic of retaining indigenous knowledge, culture, and agency- an act framed through the work of a woman. Lines five and six speak to the tragic loss of indigenous people and culture through colonization. Noodin does not need to expand on the tragedy of this loss; the piece itself is written in a language she is trying to keep alive through poetry. It is a safe assumption that Noodin, as someone heavily involved in native culture, has felt the loss of her tribe’s people and practices. It is safe to assume that she has known survivors of residential schools. It is safe to assume that she has seen the sustained effects of colonization in her community. Succinctly, Noodin tells us that the jam-maker has mixed mourning for her culture into the recipe. Noodin then shifts the tone from somber to hopeful as she describes the jam-maker preserving practices for the future. She mentions songs, which can be interpreted literally and as a stand-in for language, storytelling, and communication. She mentions feathers, which can also be interpreted literally as a common indigenous symbol, and as a stand-in for other artistic practices. Line nine: “and all the ways we’ve smiled,” can be rephrased as “all the ways we’ve found joy.” I read this line as describing the community and tenacity of native peoples through their history. Despite the efforts of colonization, indigenous people have continued to keep their cultures alive. The jam-maker mixes joy and celebration into her work, touching on the fact that tragedy does not define the history of First Nations people in America. Before and during colonization, there were ways of smiling to be found and passed along. This is part of the jam-maker’s purpose. As Noodin ends the poem, she describes the jam being saved for winter:
filling jars to the brim
to be opened when we are thin
sleeping deeply in winter near (10-12)
At the beginning of the poem, the implication of summer, a time of warmth and ease, is established. The jam-maker preserves these good times; when interpreting the jam itself as indigenous knowledge and culture, we can interpret winter as a period of hardship. In a literal sense, it is. The mention of winter brings imagery of colorlessness, barrenness, isolation, and the cold. Metaphorically, we can read this as the jam-maker protecting and preserving her culture to pass it along when it is needed. The poem takes us from summer to winter, and the jam-maker is a guardian of her community throughout. It is not meaningless that this journey is not a masculine or forceful activity. It is measured, rhythmic, tender… even maternal. The fact that the jam-maker has this knowledge to pass down implies that she is an elder in her tribe, a mother or grandmother. This adds another dimension to the poem: the passing down of culture to her children or grandchildren. The fact that this poem is framed as both respectful and purposeful tells us about the Noodin’s culture and its view on women. The jam-maker’s identity as a woman is synonymous with practicing revered work, sustaining her community and family both physically, with food, and culturally, with knowledge. Her work is important and made to be shared. While the purpose and drive of this poem’s focus can be compared to Rich’s piece, the pace and gentleness of this poem are a sharp contrast.
The second poem, “Diving into the Wreck,” narrates a diver, implied to be female, exploring a shipwreck deep in the ocean. The shipwreck can be read as a metaphor for the narrator’s own identity and the identities of countless women throughout history. Rich explores gender and agency through this extended metaphor. Firstly, the title must be considered in contrast to Noodin’s piece. Where “Umpaowastewin'' is a gift, a name, a compliment, a description of beauty, the phrase “diving into the wreck” brings action. It is neither static nor gentle. With the intentional action of diving into the Wreck, whose notoriety will be explained, an element of thrill and suspense has been created before the first line is read. Rich begins the poem with the diver suiting up for her exploration:
First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber (1-5)
The element of suspense graduates to an ominous feel. Accompanied with a book of myths to disprove, a camera for proof, a knife, and armor for protection, our diver is preparing for danger. She has a mission, an urgent mission, for truth, and she is prepared to fight for it. When looking at the extended metaphor of this poem, the excavation of identity and agency, we can view this preparation as the diver guarding herself against a patriarchal society. She is fortifying herself against the traditional abuse of her gender as she attempts to rival it. Before the narrator dives into the water, she notes that she is undertaking this task alone and isolated, “not like Cousteau with his assiduous team” (9-10). She has no support in her mission, not like a male pioneer whose excavation would be supported and accepted by society; the diver's attempt to discover her agency is shunned. Bypassing coral, fish, and weeds, she searches for what she came for: “I came to see the damage that was done/and the treasures that prevail” (55-56). When interpreting this poem as an extended metaphor of both the diver's own identity and the story of women who have come before her, we can read this damage as having been done to her and them. It is the damage done by a patriarchal society, one that suppresses women, steals their achievements, and refuses to acknowledge their agency. Thus, the diver is looking for what has survived despite this abuse. She is searching for the truth: “the wreck and not the story of the wreck/the thing itself and not the myth” (62-63). Here, the diver emphasizes that she is not looking for the watered-down, confined story of a woman in Western society. She is not looking for the myth of the timid, perfect wife. She is looking for truth, both about women in the past and about herself. Here, the diver rejects the standards of her society. She is “the thing itself,” a defiance and a discovery.
One motif throughout the poem is the diver feeling awkward and uncomfortable in her equipment and environment. Her flippers are described as absurd and crippling, her mask “grave and awkward” (7). Her black wetsuit makes her look and move like an insect. This could be read metaphorically as the narrator “trying on” a new identity as she explores her agency; to go boldly where no man will, she must put herself in a new, unfamiliar situation. The narrator is not accustomed to questioning the myths and gaining agency. However, this could also be read literally as the narrator trying on men’s clothes in her attempt to explore her identity. As this poem was written several years before Rich came out as a queer woman, this interpretation makes sense. The diving equipment feels strange, unfamiliar, and alienating, the same way men’s clothes might feel on a queer woman beginning to explore gender expression. It is clumsy… but it leads to further agency. As the poem continues, the diver describes her equipment differently. The deeper she dives, the more she explores, the less of a hindrance it becomes: “my mask is powerful/it pumps my blood with power” (37-38). Rich also writes, “And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair/streams black, the merman in his armored body” (72-73). The diver embraces both the masculine and the feminine. The more she explores and becomes accustomed to her diving equipment, the more agency she gains. I believe there is room for many interpretations of this evolution. The diver can both arrive at androgyny as her literal gender expression and as a general rejection of harsh gender roles. Whether the diver is metaphorically using her diving equipment as motivation, tenacity, willpower or a stand-in for exploring men’s fashion and expression as a lesbian, both interpretations relate to the discovery of identity.
The diver enters the hold of the shipwreck. She describes both physical objects and the features of women. Rich writes, “whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes/whose breasts still bear the stress” (78-79).” Here, women who have been wronged by the writing of history by men are described as victims, drowned and wronged. Their eyes are open, giving a sense of restlessness and accusation. The imagery in the 79th line could be interpreted as emotional heaviness in one’s chest. I believe it could also be interpreted as the lasting effects of breastfeeding and pregnancy. The role of motherhood and, by extension, heteronormativity, is forced upon women. This is further supported by Rich’s history as a wife and mother. In continuing to explore the hold, the diver describes treasures, achievements, and knowledge “half-wedged and left to rot” (82). Instruments used for discovery and exploration, such as a log and compass, have been destroyed. These items represent the past achievements of women, precious treasures and knowledge that have been purposefully shattered and hidden from her. The diver is here to discover proof of this intentional destruction, and here it is. Here is the history of her gender, the truth. This is the information she sought to build her own identity upon. In discovering herself and the ways her society has killed parts of her, the diver also discovers the history of countless women who have also been suppressed. Rich ends the poem by speaking directly to the reader, specifically female readers. “We are, I am, you are” (87), she says. She leaves us with this statement: we all come to shipwreck eventually, armed for protection and looking for proof, holding a record with our stories written over. It is impossible not to, not when you are a woman. In seeking to define yourself, it is impossible not to come to the shipwreck, not when defining yourself is inherently radical in a male-dominated society.
These poems are remarkably similar and remarkably different. At the heart of each poem is an expression of womanhood. In Noodin’s poem, this expression is synonymous with protection, care, sustenance, tenderness, and knowledge. In Rich’s poem, this expression is synonymous with struggle, isolation, tragedy, and exploration. Both poems address the intentional loss or erasure of culture, Noodin’s through colonization and Rich’s through patriarchal confinement. Additionally, both poems address reclamation. The elder in Noodin’s piece has retained her culture and passed it to her community. The diver in Rich’s piece attempts to reclaim her own identity and the stories of women in the past. When it comes to sound, pacing, and word choice, Noodin’s poem is rhythmic and gentle, especially when sung. Rich’s poem has many line breaks, giving it a sharp, suspenseful feeling. Noodin’s poem is a gift born from appreciation and love for another native woman. Rich’s is a righteous, angry critique, a call to arms, of Western gender roles. She uses ominous language and creates a sustained feeling of tension. But the most glaring contrast can be summed up as this: what the jam-maker gives freely, the diver must take. The diver is isolated and alone, pushing back against the society she lives in. The jam-maker has a community to share and protect her knowledge with. I believe that the contrast of isolation and union comes from the respective cultures of each author. With just each poem as our lens, we can interpret this. In Noodin’s piece, the jam-maker holds a revered role. She is a keeper of knowledge. She is a sustainer of her people in the harsh winter. She is in tune with her society, playing a part that is elevated rather than confined. In Rich’s piece, the diver has no such role. Alone and out of tune with her society, the diver is not revered. She is defiant of patriarchal standards. She fights for her own identity and the dignity of the women before her. To gain agency and knowledge is an inherently violent struggle. Both pieces are heavy, with tragic histories on the shoulders of the jam-maker and the diver. Through analyzing these poems and allowing the writers to take us on their respective journeys, we have gained a passionate, personalized perspective on the gender roles of two different societies.
I like to imagine that the jam-maker would invite the diver to sit down around a warm fire during a harsh winter. She would invite the diver to remove her mask and flippers, to sit for a while in a place where gender is not confining, but comforting. I’d like to imagine they would share the burden of all that has been erased and taken unwillingly, the courage of reclaiming their stories, and the blessing of sweet, summer jam.
The first poem, “Umpaowastewin,” describes a woman making strawberry jam to be eaten in the winter. As the poem continues, however, the reader discovers that the jam takes on the role of cultural knowledge, past and future. Firstly, we must look at the title itself. Translated from the Dakota language, it means “Beautiful Daybreak Woman,” and it is a name. This translation immediately conjures the imagery of light and sunrise… and love for the woman to whom this name belongs. A small blurb preceding the poem confirms that this poem is dedicated to “Pat Northrup, the jam-maker.” This tells us that the poem is crafted with love and admiration, from one indigenous woman to another, an interaction that mirrors the passing of knowledge within the poem itself. Before we move onto the text, however, the poem’s original format must be noted. It is written to be sung in the Anishinaabe language. Noodin sings her poem in a light, gentle manner, her voice high and sweet. The rhythm nudges the listener to sway from side to side. When sung in its original language, we can hear how the words fit together, mirroring each other in their vowel sounds. Many lines flow into the next without pause. I am no language expert, so I cannot comment on the characteristics of the Anishinaabe language; I can only describe the way it sounds to me. Consonant sounds that are often harsh in English, such as ‘k,’ are embraced in such a gentle song. Noodin seems to bounce with these sharper sounds, creating an element of brightness. The song flows, confident, bright, and rhythmic, speaking about a woman whose name is just as light. Moving to the text itself, the first lines read:
She makes strawberry jam
mixing sweet wind and shining water
with thick wisdom
pounding, measuring (1-4)
The language is simple and straightforward, even as it juxtaposes tangible actions with intangible events: the physical act of mixing and making with nature’s wind and water. Noodin leaves it to the reader to imagine the colors, scents, and tastes that accompany her words: the bright red of the strawberries and their sweet, summer flavor. We imagine our own “sweet winds,” and perhaps that encompasses warmth and natural smells. We imagine bright blue shimmering water, sparkled by the sun. Together, these elements of strawberries, wind, and water all create a feeling of freshness, abundance, and ease. Moving on from the first two lines, Noodin introduces heaviness to her poem with the rhythmic and careful actions of “pounding, measuring” (4). In line three, the description of “thick wisdom” grounds us in the jam-maker’s work; there is an element of purpose here. Her work is driven, more important than simply making sweet food. Noodin’s language is intentional with its simplicity. Purposefully, she draws forth intense, stimulating imagery with strong, active adjectives. As the poem continues, Noodin tells us the intention behind the jam-maker's work.
pounding, measuring
everything we’ve cared for
everything we’ve lost
the songs we have not yet sung
the feathers yet to decorate
and all the ways we’ve smiled (4-9)
The reveal is foreshadowed by the fact that preserves is an interchangeable word for jams: weaved into the jam-maker’s work is collective trauma and loss, love and hope. Noodin gives the jam and its creator an immeasurable heaviness. She reveals that the physical journey of jam-making is symbolic of retaining indigenous knowledge, culture, and agency- an act framed through the work of a woman. Lines five and six speak to the tragic loss of indigenous people and culture through colonization. Noodin does not need to expand on the tragedy of this loss; the piece itself is written in a language she is trying to keep alive through poetry. It is a safe assumption that Noodin, as someone heavily involved in native culture, has felt the loss of her tribe’s people and practices. It is safe to assume that she has known survivors of residential schools. It is safe to assume that she has seen the sustained effects of colonization in her community. Succinctly, Noodin tells us that the jam-maker has mixed mourning for her culture into the recipe. Noodin then shifts the tone from somber to hopeful as she describes the jam-maker preserving practices for the future. She mentions songs, which can be interpreted literally and as a stand-in for language, storytelling, and communication. She mentions feathers, which can also be interpreted literally as a common indigenous symbol, and as a stand-in for other artistic practices. Line nine: “and all the ways we’ve smiled,” can be rephrased as “all the ways we’ve found joy.” I read this line as describing the community and tenacity of native peoples through their history. Despite the efforts of colonization, indigenous people have continued to keep their cultures alive. The jam-maker mixes joy and celebration into her work, touching on the fact that tragedy does not define the history of First Nations people in America. Before and during colonization, there were ways of smiling to be found and passed along. This is part of the jam-maker’s purpose. As Noodin ends the poem, she describes the jam being saved for winter:
filling jars to the brim
to be opened when we are thin
sleeping deeply in winter near (10-12)
At the beginning of the poem, the implication of summer, a time of warmth and ease, is established. The jam-maker preserves these good times; when interpreting the jam itself as indigenous knowledge and culture, we can interpret winter as a period of hardship. In a literal sense, it is. The mention of winter brings imagery of colorlessness, barrenness, isolation, and the cold. Metaphorically, we can read this as the jam-maker protecting and preserving her culture to pass it along when it is needed. The poem takes us from summer to winter, and the jam-maker is a guardian of her community throughout. It is not meaningless that this journey is not a masculine or forceful activity. It is measured, rhythmic, tender… even maternal. The fact that the jam-maker has this knowledge to pass down implies that she is an elder in her tribe, a mother or grandmother. This adds another dimension to the poem: the passing down of culture to her children or grandchildren. The fact that this poem is framed as both respectful and purposeful tells us about the Noodin’s culture and its view on women. The jam-maker’s identity as a woman is synonymous with practicing revered work, sustaining her community and family both physically, with food, and culturally, with knowledge. Her work is important and made to be shared. While the purpose and drive of this poem’s focus can be compared to Rich’s piece, the pace and gentleness of this poem are a sharp contrast.
The second poem, “Diving into the Wreck,” narrates a diver, implied to be female, exploring a shipwreck deep in the ocean. The shipwreck can be read as a metaphor for the narrator’s own identity and the identities of countless women throughout history. Rich explores gender and agency through this extended metaphor. Firstly, the title must be considered in contrast to Noodin’s piece. Where “Umpaowastewin'' is a gift, a name, a compliment, a description of beauty, the phrase “diving into the wreck” brings action. It is neither static nor gentle. With the intentional action of diving into the Wreck, whose notoriety will be explained, an element of thrill and suspense has been created before the first line is read. Rich begins the poem with the diver suiting up for her exploration:
First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber (1-5)
The element of suspense graduates to an ominous feel. Accompanied with a book of myths to disprove, a camera for proof, a knife, and armor for protection, our diver is preparing for danger. She has a mission, an urgent mission, for truth, and she is prepared to fight for it. When looking at the extended metaphor of this poem, the excavation of identity and agency, we can view this preparation as the diver guarding herself against a patriarchal society. She is fortifying herself against the traditional abuse of her gender as she attempts to rival it. Before the narrator dives into the water, she notes that she is undertaking this task alone and isolated, “not like Cousteau with his assiduous team” (9-10). She has no support in her mission, not like a male pioneer whose excavation would be supported and accepted by society; the diver's attempt to discover her agency is shunned. Bypassing coral, fish, and weeds, she searches for what she came for: “I came to see the damage that was done/and the treasures that prevail” (55-56). When interpreting this poem as an extended metaphor of both the diver's own identity and the story of women who have come before her, we can read this damage as having been done to her and them. It is the damage done by a patriarchal society, one that suppresses women, steals their achievements, and refuses to acknowledge their agency. Thus, the diver is looking for what has survived despite this abuse. She is searching for the truth: “the wreck and not the story of the wreck/the thing itself and not the myth” (62-63). Here, the diver emphasizes that she is not looking for the watered-down, confined story of a woman in Western society. She is not looking for the myth of the timid, perfect wife. She is looking for truth, both about women in the past and about herself. Here, the diver rejects the standards of her society. She is “the thing itself,” a defiance and a discovery.
One motif throughout the poem is the diver feeling awkward and uncomfortable in her equipment and environment. Her flippers are described as absurd and crippling, her mask “grave and awkward” (7). Her black wetsuit makes her look and move like an insect. This could be read metaphorically as the narrator “trying on” a new identity as she explores her agency; to go boldly where no man will, she must put herself in a new, unfamiliar situation. The narrator is not accustomed to questioning the myths and gaining agency. However, this could also be read literally as the narrator trying on men’s clothes in her attempt to explore her identity. As this poem was written several years before Rich came out as a queer woman, this interpretation makes sense. The diving equipment feels strange, unfamiliar, and alienating, the same way men’s clothes might feel on a queer woman beginning to explore gender expression. It is clumsy… but it leads to further agency. As the poem continues, the diver describes her equipment differently. The deeper she dives, the more she explores, the less of a hindrance it becomes: “my mask is powerful/it pumps my blood with power” (37-38). Rich also writes, “And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair/streams black, the merman in his armored body” (72-73). The diver embraces both the masculine and the feminine. The more she explores and becomes accustomed to her diving equipment, the more agency she gains. I believe there is room for many interpretations of this evolution. The diver can both arrive at androgyny as her literal gender expression and as a general rejection of harsh gender roles. Whether the diver is metaphorically using her diving equipment as motivation, tenacity, willpower or a stand-in for exploring men’s fashion and expression as a lesbian, both interpretations relate to the discovery of identity.
The diver enters the hold of the shipwreck. She describes both physical objects and the features of women. Rich writes, “whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes/whose breasts still bear the stress” (78-79).” Here, women who have been wronged by the writing of history by men are described as victims, drowned and wronged. Their eyes are open, giving a sense of restlessness and accusation. The imagery in the 79th line could be interpreted as emotional heaviness in one’s chest. I believe it could also be interpreted as the lasting effects of breastfeeding and pregnancy. The role of motherhood and, by extension, heteronormativity, is forced upon women. This is further supported by Rich’s history as a wife and mother. In continuing to explore the hold, the diver describes treasures, achievements, and knowledge “half-wedged and left to rot” (82). Instruments used for discovery and exploration, such as a log and compass, have been destroyed. These items represent the past achievements of women, precious treasures and knowledge that have been purposefully shattered and hidden from her. The diver is here to discover proof of this intentional destruction, and here it is. Here is the history of her gender, the truth. This is the information she sought to build her own identity upon. In discovering herself and the ways her society has killed parts of her, the diver also discovers the history of countless women who have also been suppressed. Rich ends the poem by speaking directly to the reader, specifically female readers. “We are, I am, you are” (87), she says. She leaves us with this statement: we all come to shipwreck eventually, armed for protection and looking for proof, holding a record with our stories written over. It is impossible not to, not when you are a woman. In seeking to define yourself, it is impossible not to come to the shipwreck, not when defining yourself is inherently radical in a male-dominated society.
These poems are remarkably similar and remarkably different. At the heart of each poem is an expression of womanhood. In Noodin’s poem, this expression is synonymous with protection, care, sustenance, tenderness, and knowledge. In Rich’s poem, this expression is synonymous with struggle, isolation, tragedy, and exploration. Both poems address the intentional loss or erasure of culture, Noodin’s through colonization and Rich’s through patriarchal confinement. Additionally, both poems address reclamation. The elder in Noodin’s piece has retained her culture and passed it to her community. The diver in Rich’s piece attempts to reclaim her own identity and the stories of women in the past. When it comes to sound, pacing, and word choice, Noodin’s poem is rhythmic and gentle, especially when sung. Rich’s poem has many line breaks, giving it a sharp, suspenseful feeling. Noodin’s poem is a gift born from appreciation and love for another native woman. Rich’s is a righteous, angry critique, a call to arms, of Western gender roles. She uses ominous language and creates a sustained feeling of tension. But the most glaring contrast can be summed up as this: what the jam-maker gives freely, the diver must take. The diver is isolated and alone, pushing back against the society she lives in. The jam-maker has a community to share and protect her knowledge with. I believe that the contrast of isolation and union comes from the respective cultures of each author. With just each poem as our lens, we can interpret this. In Noodin’s piece, the jam-maker holds a revered role. She is a keeper of knowledge. She is a sustainer of her people in the harsh winter. She is in tune with her society, playing a part that is elevated rather than confined. In Rich’s piece, the diver has no such role. Alone and out of tune with her society, the diver is not revered. She is defiant of patriarchal standards. She fights for her own identity and the dignity of the women before her. To gain agency and knowledge is an inherently violent struggle. Both pieces are heavy, with tragic histories on the shoulders of the jam-maker and the diver. Through analyzing these poems and allowing the writers to take us on their respective journeys, we have gained a passionate, personalized perspective on the gender roles of two different societies.
I like to imagine that the jam-maker would invite the diver to sit down around a warm fire during a harsh winter. She would invite the diver to remove her mask and flippers, to sit for a while in a place where gender is not confining, but comforting. I’d like to imagine they would share the burden of all that has been erased and taken unwillingly, the courage of reclaiming their stories, and the blessing of sweet, summer jam.
Works Cited
Noodin, Margaret. “Umpaowastewin.” Poetry Magazine, January 2016, Poetry Foundation, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/58648/umpaowastewin
Rich, Adrienne. “Diving into the Wreck.” Diving into the Wreck: Poems 1971–1972, Francis Driscoll, New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1973, Poets.org, https://poets.org/poem/diving-wreck
Noodin, Margaret. “Umpaowastewin.” Poetry Magazine, January 2016, Poetry Foundation, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/58648/umpaowastewin
Rich, Adrienne. “Diving into the Wreck.” Diving into the Wreck: Poems 1971–1972, Francis Driscoll, New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1973, Poets.org, https://poets.org/poem/diving-wreck