March WeavingWritingGender 1983
March WeavingWritingGender 1983
March WeavingWritingGender 1983
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KATHRYN S. MARCH
Cornell University
Tamang symbols of weaving and writing draw upon the positions of the sexes in a patrilineal
descent system where cross-cousin marriage is practised. As gender symbols, weaving and
writing figure in (i) the representation of the ethnic and religious solidarity of Tamang in Nepal;
(2) the construction of counterpoised theories of Tamang culture and society derived from the
opposing perspectives of the sexes; and (3) the contemplation of the relation between mutually
contradictory, but necessary, gender-marked views of the world. The unique power of gender
lies both in its ability to represent things simultaneously as the same and different and in its
operation in the world(s) of the sexes.
For the Tamang, weaving and writing are not only technical skills but dense
symbols of gender. They are gender symbols not only because they tell the
Tamang about the separate roles of the sexes, but because they are about what
transpires between the sexes as each defines the other. Two opposing concep-
tions of the world emerge as Tamang men and women view one another; gender
symbolises both the opposition and the reflexivity of these world views.
Tamang symbols of weaving and writing draw upon the differences between
the positions of the sexes in a social system where fixed patrilocalities and
patrilineal clans interact through bilateral cross-cousin marriage. Women's
weaving is uniquely associated with the flux and irregularities of marital
exchange; men's writing with the fixity and preordination of localised clan
identities. As gender symbols, weaving and writing figure, first, in the rep-
resentation of ethnic and religious solidarity of the Tamang as well as in the
construction of indigenous gender-marked theories of culture and society.
Next, in so far as weaving and writing are related to the relative positions of the
sexes in Tamang life, they display the world as it is presumed to be perceived
from the stereotypic vantages of the sexes in social reality. Finally, as elements in
a symbolic system, weaving and writing interrelate, through gender, two
mutually contradictory but necessary conceptions of the world order.
This investigation of Tamang gender both underscores the systemic nature of
symbols and explores their relation to social reality. The analysis of gender has
three moments: first, uncovering the logic of the social interdependence or
distinctiveness of the sexes; second, interpreting the abstract cultural symbols of
gender, and, third, interrelating sex-linked realities with gender-marked sym-
bols.
In the first instance, analysis must focus upon the social, economic and
political realities of the sexes as people in their historical context. Pivotal issues
Man (N.S.) i8, 729-44
in this social sexual analysis revolve around differentiating, for example, the
various bases for men's and women's political authority, their relative positions
in the division of labour and property, and in systems of kinship and marriage.
This helps document the place of sexual stratification (or equality) within the
wider political economy of any given society, and, potentially, provides a basis
for both cross-cultural and historical comparisons among societies.
To analyse gender per se is to focus upon the meaningfulness of sex at a
different level, that of culture. Gender represents a complex of ideas, beliefs,
abstractions, images, imaginings and even fantasies-not people. No compo-
nent in a gender system stands alone. As with all systems of meaning, each part
defines all the other parts in a whole that is greater than their sum. Sexual
difference, on the other hand, operates in social reality where real people make
real choices-who will do what work; who will eat what, or first, or with
whom; and so forth. At least in terms of the time and space they occupy, such
sexed choices are mutually exclusive. In the domain of gender, not only do all
possibilities exist simultaneously, but each necessarily defines the other.
But, finally, in so far as gender is a system of beliefs about sex, its ideology is
uniquely about people. The analysis of gender ultimately interrelates a system of
beliefs to a society of believers, ideas about maleness and femaleness, or about
feminine and masculine, or idealised men and women, to real people, women
and men. However, this interconnexion is neither transparent nor simple. This
article looks at gender as a system of beliefs about the world as the Tamang
imagine it, including, and perhaps building upon, but not restricted to, the
positions of the sexes in their real worlds.
judgements are initially based on the technical demands of weaving, but a good
weaver must not only exhibit skills in technique and design, she must also, and
more importantly, know how to distribute her textiles so as to tie her into the
widest possible web of social relations. Women's weaving, above all, marks
Tamang social exchanges (see also Hockings 1979; Murra I962). Among
Tamang villages and clans, the exchange of drink, food and cloth-more or less
in that order-is critical to all important social intercourse. Less permanent, less
intimate or more tentative relations may involve the exchange only of drink and
food, but the thread of all enduring social ties is traced in textiles. Cloth moves
within and reaffirms the most reliable reciprocal networks of affection and
mutual obligation known to the Tamang. It is truly the social fabric itself.
When young men and women court, for example, they engage in night-long
competitive songfests, during which marriages and trysts are arranged as
elaborate poetic repartees are sung back and forth. Early in the evening, young
men parade displaying objects they have made-bamboo boxes coveted by
women for storing personal valuables and long bamboo combs that women use
as beaters in their upright looms. The young women show off their textile
crafts, especially turbans and sashes for the men. By the end of a night of
singing, the young men's boxes and combs have been secreted inside the robes
and satchels of the best women singers, while the women's textiles have come to
hang like trophies from the umbrellas of successful male singers.
As couples mature and marry (and many Tamang marriages follow such
nights of singing and exchanging), further exchanges of cloth legitimate their
union. All Tamang marriages occur between cross cousins, which is to say that
everyone marries the child of someone called father's sister or mother's brother.
Such a marriage system establishes alternating exchanges that continue through
generations. A system of cross-cousin marriage is never in perfect equilibrium
but resembles a pendulum: the momentum of prior marriages operates as a
powerful incentive to continue to exchange. The exchange of cloth at marriage
locates bride and groom in a proper set of reciprocating affinal relations. Even if
there had been irregularities in the kinship relations between the families of the
new couple before marriage, the exchange of cloth is part of the ritual to rectify
and re-weave them, creating a proper a network of cross-cousins, fathers' sisters
and mothers' brothers.
After marriage, women move to live with their husbands' families, but,
throughout married life, maintain contact with their natal kin through weaving.
Weaving sustains vital social and emotional bonds between kinswomen.
Mothers, daughters and sisters continue to weave with and for one another
throughout their lives. Clan-sisters, too, maintain their solidarity through
weaving together, singing together at the songfests where cloth and comb
beaters for weaving are exchanged, and by exchanging gifts of cloth. Even
women's ritual friendships are marked by the exchange of textiles.
But the most crucial relation a woman must maintain is that with her
brother(s). The tie between Tamang cross-sex siblings is the balance point from
which all sociality hangs. In the relation between Tamang sister and brother are
counterpoised the forces of patrilineality, which dictate clan membership, and
those of cross-cousinhood, which determine potential marital relations. The
bond between cross-sex siblings simultaneously stems from shared descent and
foreshadows subsequent marriages. In many social systems, a clear shift from
sibling to spouse occurs over the life cycle, but for the Tamang, looking forward
to one's duties as a parent requires a look back to the obligations between
siblings. Although gifts of many kinds serve to reinforce the bond between
sisters and brothers, the most highly symbolic gifts are textile. It is with great
pride that sisters recount weaving, and brothers recall receiving, the turbans and
other gifts of cloth exchanged 'out of affection' between the two. Such gifts may
be offered whenever a sister 'remembers' her favourite brother(s), but at certain
ritually prescribed times her textile gifts become charged with a complex gender
symbology.
There are two central moments at which sisters (re)constitute relations with
their brothers through gifts of ritually significant cloth. One is at the brother's
son's first haircutting. Gifts of cloth, as well as the haircutting itself, delimit an
inner circle ofimportant non-lineal kin for the boy: his mother's brother cuts his
hair, while his father's sister provides the new turban and other cloth to dress
him 'like a king.' In this way, the ceremony that marks a boy's first social
persona emphasises the ties between cross-sex siblings. As well, at the large
mortuary feasts that are the most prominent feature of Tamang ritual life,
kinswomen trace their ties to the deceased-whether man or woman-with
textile symbols. Sisters are among the chief mourners: to mark their relation to
the deceased, they provide important pieces of cloth both to adorn the death
altar and for the effigy of the deceased; to disentangle themselves from the dead,
they unbraid their hair, wear old cloth and weep, chanting songs of mourning.
Textiles are equally essential to Tamang efforts to reach the supernatural.
Along with food, drink, flowers and song, cloth is given as an obligation to
divinities to protect, or at least not harm, their supplicants. All altars are draped
with cloth-to attract, please and clothe the divinities, in hopes that relations
thus established with the supernatural realm will simulate human ones. Textile
gifts attempt to make divinities reciprocate with affection and material goods, to
protect the prosperity of the givers, in much the same way that humans weave
social relations of reciprocal obligation among themselves.
When GangJyungmo, a mythic female figure for the Tamang,2 went to seek
her father, an important Buddhist recluse and mystic in Tibet, she was told by
other female monastics that she would have to take the proper offerings. In
addition to needing beer, flowers and songs, she was told she would have to
weave strips of cloth to take as a particular gift to her father. The ritual weaving
and giving of cloth, which is identified as female in Tamang practice, is probably
also generically related to the Tibetan and Sherpa Buddhist custom of offering
white cloth scarves on all important social and ritual occasions.
Shamanic divinities and lesser malevolent supernatural forces are connected
to human beings through cloth as well. The spirit of a witch, for example, can
move from the witch to someone else in a gift of cloth, or even by the wearing of
clothing borrowed from the witch. Tsen-divinities central to Tamang sha-
manic practice-are transmitted from one woman to another along with the
inheritance of silverjewellery or fine cloth (Holmberg I983; March 1979).
Weaving, however, is most important in mythic accounts that underscore the
Each verse of their song begins with a refrain placing their encounter in
mythic times, when everything was first taking its place in the Buddhist cycle
of rebirths. The central lines of each verse use metaphors based upon the
implements of weaving and writing to make the claims and counterclaims of
sister and brother for the relative merits of their respective activities. Thus, for
example, as the brother lauded his pen, the sister sang about her chhusying, the
device used to trickle water over a piece of weaving in progress so that the weft
can be beaten in tightly. Or, as the brother sang about the walking stick
used by lamas on begging rounds or on pilgrimage, the sister is said to have
pointed out the sticks which served as her lease and hettle rods. Or, again, when
his verse glorified his ritual knife, she is said to have retorted by displaying her
beater-a large piece of wood, shaped like a sword, with an inlaid strip of iron
along the beating edge.
The analogy between knives or swords and beaters is drawn again in rituals
(today rarely performed) celebrating the histories of two Tamang clans. Those
clans are said to have originated in incestuous marriages, in recognition of
which, once a year, men are to brandish swords and dance wildly through the
village (as lamas actually dance at major rituals and death observances). Those
men are supposed to shout sexual insults at their clan sisters (as they would never
do in ordinary life), while the sisters are to counter with obscenities of their own,
brandishing beaters and rods from their looms. Similar analogies recur through-
out Tamang myth and song. Gang Jyungmo learned to weave in a monastery,
the place where most male novitiates learn to write.
Although growing numbers of Tamang are becoming literate in Nepali, the
writing which matters to this discussion is done in Tibetan script. These are the
letters in which the sacred Buddhist texts of the Tamang are written. As
Holmberg (I980) has demonstrated, this writing is an important symbol to the
Tamang. The meanings of writing intersect with those of weaving in several
significant ways. Like weaving, lamaic writing initially marks the ethnic
distinctiveness and Buddhist solidarity of the Tamang in the officially Hindu
state of Nepal. Moreover, as weaving is a women's speciality tied to a particular
vision of the 'fabric' of Tamang society, so writing is associated with men and
inscribes a different vision, or male 'writ,' for society.
Tamang frequently refer to themselves as Lama, using the term for a
specialist in the Buddhist texts as a general term for Tamang ethnic group
identity. To declare oneself 'Lama' is to claim text, to assert ethnic affiliation
through text. Text is an authority recognised by both Tamang and Hindu
traditions. By identifying themselves with their texts and textual specialists,
Tamang liken themselves to Hindus, and their lamas to brahmins, an analogy
which implies a relation of greater parity between the two groups than the
hierarchical, caste-based, Hindu interpretation admits (Holmberg I980: 44-50).
Text, like cloth, not only marks interethnic relations for the Tamang; it also
singles out certain men for special prestige. Lamas are men who learn and
practice the letters of the Buddhist texts. These are special skills which require
considerable effort on the part of both teacher to transmit and student to learn
(Holmberg I980: I78-I83). The teacher, the gyeken or lopon, is particularly
honoured; it is only by working with a teacher that a student gains access to the
Engendering ethnicity: gender between groups. Weaving and lamaic writing consoli-
date symbols of the Tamang as a distinct ethnic and religious society. In
situations of interethnic interaction, both can be construed as signs of the
Tamang order itself; they stand for the integrity of that which is Tamang as it
faces that which is not Tamang.
The gender of these markers is significant (Balzer I98I). Tamang society and
culture, when seen as populated by men, lineages of patriclans, Buddhist lamas
and writing, display a distinctive ethnic texture. To be Tamang is, here, to be
born into a particular patriclan in a particular area. The lines of one's fathers trace
an identity through time which is continuous, geographically bounded and
self-contained. Lamaic writing inscribes a similar religious continuity. Both
portray Tamang society as if it were eternally sufficient unto itself. This
perspective on Tamang solidarity draws heavily upon the shared male symbol-
ism of both text and patrilineality. To be 'Tamang,' here, is to have sacred text,
to have lamas, to be born among the 'Lama' clans and people. This conception of
ethnic unity is symbolically male and puts the continuity of Tamang society in
writing; the ordained and literate lineages of Tamang lamas parallel and uphold
the patrilines and patrilocales of socially continuous society. Patriclans, like
lamaic text, symbolically perdure, ever reconstituting the social script by which
generations of Tamang trace their lives.
Textile, on the other hand, is the more elusive social thread. Like women, it
moves between groups, and symbolically ties people together, but is always in
danger of becoming frayed; the Tamang social fabric must be rewoven with the
marriages of each succeeding generation. A female perspective on the texture of
Tamang ethnicity is different from the male. The possibility for determinate
linear continuity among women is broken up by the requirements of human
marriage, but the capacity for a female social ideology is not thereby shattered.
Instead, it is transformed: it is precisely in the dynamics of exchange that the
potentiality of femaleness among the Tamang lies. Women, textile, marriage
and exchange not only structure an alternate female interpretation of Tamang
society internally, they also suggest the possibility of ties beyond the boundary
patrilines of Tamang clans, warning all the while of the problematics of such
exchanges. Thus weaving, wearing and exchanging their cloth, Tamang
women, at this first level of analysis, generate the female perspective from
which their society looks necessarily, but perilously, outward.
Signs of separate sexes: gender between women and men. The gender symbolism at
play in writing and weaving also highlights the significance of the sexes within
Tamang society. Married women, who move from their parents' houses to their
husbands', are seen (by men) as exchanged like their weaving; women see
themselves as permanently in-between. Their intermediate social position, like
(i) Tamang women's social positions: the problematics of affinal and other exchange
cycles:: femaleness: textile; and
(2) Tamang men's social positions: the determinate continuity of local descent and other
lineages:: maleness: text; then
(3) the femaleness of both textile and women: the maleness of both men and text:: the problem-
atic cycles of exchange: lines of determinate continuity.
Such analogies, however, neither dichotomise the sexes completely nor insist
upon a special relation between women and the symbols of femaleness, on the
one hand, and between men and the symbols of maleness on the other. Gender
symbols are not derived from the sexes separately. Nor are male gender symbols
only meaningful to men or female ones to women. An analysis that depends
upoi defining differences between the sexes as inherent is inadequate because it
exaggerates the concomitant exclusivity of their worlds and experiences. It sees
gender not only as resulting from difference, but also as causing further sexual
segregation, in so far as female symbols would have to speak first from, and then
to, women's experience, and male ones, derived initially from men's experi-
ence, would come to have meaning primarily to the men sharing those
experiences. Gender cannot be reduced to two such parallel lists; gender
Symbols ofgender: gender between world views. A gender-marked universe does not
exclusively, nor even primarily, consist in sex-specific, parallel but distinct
worlds. Gender is not only about mutually exclusive sexes nor is it tied to the
segregated world view of the sexes. A theoretical framework based upon
separatist genders reduces interactions between the sexes to complicated
To say that metaphors are gender-marked, even to show that they reflect the
perspectives of one sex or another, then, is not necessarily to declare that only
the male view speaks to or for men alone, or that the female is the exclusive
prerogative of women. Social and ritual life show a systematic and measured
alternation between the two gender-marked theories of social relations, for both
sexes. Neither ideology is independently sufficient; each mutually necessitates
and evokes the other.
Thus, for example, at a boy's first ritual hair-cutting, where gifts of fabric
admit the boy to the ongoing affinal exchanges which will culminate in his
marriage, the cloth to be offered must be sanctified before it can be given. That
sanctification depends upon the recitation of the 'history of cloth', a mythic tale
of its origin and meaning. Women, according to that 'history', were bound by
the oaths of the Buddhas to weave and give cloth. The text of this tale must be
recited at most ritual occasions when cloth is given, no matter who actually
gives the cloth. In this, and other such texts, an attempt is made to fix women's
weaving into a determinant world order where exchanges of cloth were bound
by Buddha-word.
Yet if women's weaving is at times fixed, lamaic fixity is often woven.
Perhaps the best demonstrations of this are found in two devices used by lamas.
First, lamas use thread constructions commonly known as 'God's eyes'. In
addition to reciting their texts to reestablish the proper order, lamas use these
string webs or snares to trap errant divinities and bind them back into their
proper place in the world. Lamas also make various charms to protect their
clients from dog bite, disease, demons. These charms consist of a piece of paper
on which has been stamped the appropriate text. This paper is then folded into a
little square and carefully bound in multi-coloured threads. The power of these
two devices lies in the interdependent meanings of gender, weaving and
writing. It is not just the binding of textual oaths that makes them effective, but
also the binding of threads; nor, alternatively, is itjust the weaving of cloth that
unites the world, but also the weaving of words.
The special problem of gender as symbolic of the relation between women
and men here becomes a question of understanding how two substantially
different views of the world can be simultaneously underscored and entwined in
a larger world symbology as well as understanding why gender is a particularly
powerful way of both relating and separating those different perspectives.
Gender symbolism is quintessentially mythic: it poses the coexistence of
multiple possibilities. Tamang gender symbology composes its scenarios in
stereo. The male eye sees the stylised linearity and determinacy of a world
inscribed in text; the female eye, the fluidity of exchanges woven through
textile: the perspective of gender in Tamang culture acquires true depth by
combining the two vantages, much as, in naturalistic sight, the ability to
perceive multidimensionality, depth and parallax movement depends upon
binocular or stereoscopic vision. The power of gender lies in its ability to
portray the social and cosmological landscape from two different viewpoints.
The special paradox of gender is more complex: gender not only provides
multiple perspectives on the world, but those perspectives are interconnected,
contradictory and simultaneous. Not only does each gender-marked symbol
among the Tamang depend upon and define a different theory of the socio-
logical and cosmological relatedness of the world, but there is a special relation
between gender logics. For the Tamang, lineal continuity and affinal exchange
are not two random metaphysical principles. They stem from the inter-
dependence of patriliny and cross-cousinship, that is, from the interdependence
of local clan membership and birth, on the one hand, and of marriage and death,
on the other. Tamang society and culture is not formed by the simple addition of
these two principles, but rather by their interplay over time.
Similarly, their total gender logic cannot be imagined as a simple comp-
lementary combination of two points of view. Male writing and female
weaving do not only parallel one another as alternate interpretations of social
and cosmological relatedness; each is inherently dependent upon the other for its
very construction. However the two perspectives engendered by weaving and
writing are described, a logical relation underlying their contrast is consistently
highlighted: continuity v. rupture, fixity v. mobility, determinate v. oscillating,
self-sufficient v. synergetic, singular v. multiple, uniaxial v. symmetrical,
homogeneous v. heterogeneous, preordained at birth v. worked out through
marriage, permanent v. (ex)changed, and so forth. A definable relation-that of
negation, opposition, inversion, or some other type of contradiction-exists
between the two halves of all these propositions. Each inverts, denies, opposes,
contradicts, or simply doubts, what the other asserts; each is a transformation of
the other in the truest sense.
The parts of these gender pairs are conceptually related because each pair
grapples with the same issue, while each half of each pair postulates a mutually
contradictory interpretation of that issue.7 Thus, for example, on the Tamang
issue of locality, several paired possibilities are gender-marked: (he) stays in a
fixed place, (she) moves to others; (he) has a commitment to one local line, (she)
has ties in two; (male personal) space is continuous and unified; (female
personal) space is discontinuous and multiple. Around any given cultural
abstraction of interest to the Tamang-such as lineality, locality, reciprocity or
marriage-and around many phenomena of interest in other cultural systems as
well-such as periodicity, number, mutability, continuance or symmetry
-gender admits the simultaneous representation of mutually necessary but
contradictory interpretations.
One final feature of gender symbolism is, in some ways, most distinctive of
its symbolic structure. This is its capacity to represent contradictory vantages
simultaneously. In this simultaneity of contradictory possibilities lies what
might be called the antinomy of gender. On any of the Tamang propositions
about themselves and their world which have been examined here, gender
simultaneously asserts that one interpretation is true, and then, that another,
plainly and categorically opposed to the first, is also true. The totality of gender
declares that the world both is, and is not, as it seems from either gender-marked
perspective, or, that the world cannot be fully described within the logic of
either. In many respects, gender is caught, as are all cultural constructions, in the
irreconcilability of representation and reality. Behind all cultural meanings lurks
notjust the possibility, but at some level the certain knowledge, that all culture is
at the same time not true, and not false, but representation (symbol, metaphor,
icon, sign, signifier). Any substitute for reality that itself acquires reality is
problematic in this way.
Gender as a symbolic system specifically represents this very problematic or
paradox, indeed, antinomy: to represent things that are, and are not, the same;
things that might be the same if they were not interpreted from opposing
perspectives; perspectives that emerge as opposed because they arise as women
and men consider the gender logic of each other's position; men and women
who, as they consider one another, confront the many ways in which they are,
and are not, the same.
NOTES
Earlier versions were presented at Cornell, the University of Michigan, and Bard College. I am
especially grateful for comments and criticism from Davydd Greenwood, BillieJean Isbell, Bernd
Lambert, Sally MtConnell-Ginet, Sherry B. Ortner and Robert J. Smith. Support and stimulus
from David Holmberg, who has done extensive work among the Tamang, influenced the whole of
this article.
1 Tamang came originally from Tibet, practise 'Tibetan' Buddhism, and speak a Tibeto-Burman
language. All references to the 'Tamang' in this article refer exclusively to the 'Western Tamang,'
living to the north and west of the Kathmandu valley. The orthography of Tamang terms used in
this article is not rigorous, but intended to facilitate ready pronounciation by English speakers.
2 GangJyungmo also figures, but somewhat differently, in classical Tibetan tradition.
3 I am not here concerned with addressing the question of whether or not these are either
'dominant' (Turner I967) or 'key symbols' (Ortner 1973). Nor am I at present concerned with the
emotional impact of symbols (Levi-Strauss I967 [I9631; March I982). Instead of emphasising their
centrality or affect in this article, I hope here to show how these symbols work in a particular
ethnographic circumstance to help Tamang conceptualise important points of both social and
cultural tension.
4 The contrast I wish to draw between the gender-marking of weaving and writing depends upon
Holmberg's prior work on the meaning ofTamang sacred writing within the total Tamang religious
complex, and, especially upon his characterisation of the 'lamaic vantage' embodied in Buddhist
writing as 'moral, just, and determinate, truthful and good' (I980: 236).
5 In the institutionalised monastic traditions of Tibetan Buddhism, some lineages achieve the
status of a recognised line of incarnations. In the process of incarnation, not only spiritual training is
passed on from one generation of monastics to another, but, as well, the actual individual essence
and religious merit of one exceptional monastic finds rebirth in another to create historically
identifiable and institutionally localised lines of religious succession.
6 According to the Tamang, no father can be the lamaic teacher of his own biological son.
7 Holmberg (I980) found a similar relation between lamaic Buddhism and shamanism in Tamang
religion. Those familiar with his work will recognise many similarities between my analysis here
and the language he developed to discuss Tamang religious complexity.
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