Animal Metaphors in Fictional Episodes of Gender-Based Violence in Contemporary Spain

Set in a rural area of Extremadura in postwar Spain, in Camilo José Cela’s La familia de Pascual Duarte, Pascual’s father, Esteban, a rural, uneducated, dirt-poor man who can barely provide economically for his family, mocks his illiterate housewife by calling her “burra” – an insult denoting ignorance (Cela 1997: 43). Esteban’s inability to live up to his masculine ideal of being the breadwinner and authoritarian head of the family often translates into his exertion of physical violence against his children and, above all, wife. At his daughter’s birth, Esteban calls his wife “zorra” to question her sexual behavior while hitting her with his belt so hard that she had to remain in bed for two days in order to heal: “se arrimó hasta la cama de mi madre y sin consideración ninguna de la circunstancia, la empezó a llamar bribona y zorra y a arrearle tan fuertes hebillazos que extrañado estoy todavía de que no la haya molido viva” (Cela 1997: 17). After this violent episode, Esteban returns to kiss her violently and decides to sleep with the animals instead of with his wife. This juxtaposition between Esteban and the animals serves to underscore his bestial behavior. Significantly, Esteban dies locked away and raving from the bite of a rabid dog after his wife gives birth to an illegitimate son, Mario, who is mentally disabled. His death, once again, evokes his animal conduct.

Reproducing this cycle of gender-based violence, Esteban’s son, Pascual, similarly abuses his girlfriend. He compares Lola to a young mare that needs to be subject to his control during their relationship. His first forced sexual encounter, indeed, is reminiscent of the taming of this animal, with the young Pascual hitting and biting the girl to finally mount her: “La agarré del pelo y la tenía bien sujeta a la tierra. Ella forcejeaba. La mordí hasta la sangre, hasta que estuvo rendida y dócil como una yegua joven” (Cela 1997: 38).1 The same equine image appears in El amor es un juego solitario when Ricardo sexually mounts an unwilling Clara “como una potranca mal domada” (Tusquets 1979: 138). In addition, Esteban’s sister, Rosario, is seen through an animal lens by her boyfriend and pimp, El Estirao. A former bullfighter, El Estirao makes a living sexually exploiting women like Rosario. He describes her as a “lagarta” and “zorra,” animal names being used as synonymous with prostitutes (Cela 1997: 148). Having escaped domestic abuse, Rosario falls into an abusive relationship where El Estirao manipulates her psychologically, sexually, and economically.

In a run-down apartment in the city of Barcelona in Laforest’s Nada, the unemployed painter of limited talent Juan also vents his frustration at his partner Gloria, whose brain he compares to that of a rabbit so to attack her intellectually and sexually, given that bunnies have strong sexual connotations: “¡Pero ella no sabe que hoy le rompo la cabeza! […] Pero si tiene sesos de conejo […] ¡como todas las mujeres!” (Laforet 1995: 68). Like Esteban in La familia de Pascual Duarte, Juan sees his virility threatened by Gloria, who is attractive and always praised by his brother, with whom he has a life-time rivalry. Besides, unlike him, Gloria is the one that makes money gambling and selling some of the old furniture of the apartment. Gloria becomes the easy target of Juan’s frustrations since he is unable to fight his brother Román. Juan calls Gloria “cerda” to criticize her housekeeping while kicking and punching her: “¡Si no te callas, te estrangulo! ¡Cochina!” and “Juan tiraba […] pateaba en el suelo a Gloria, que se retorcía. –¡Miserable! […] ¡Cochina!” (Laforet 1995: 69, 109). Juan even reduces Gloria to the category of an irrational beast that needs to be controlled when showering her with freezing water and punching her head: “Juan intentó sacar a Gloria de la bañera de un solo tirón […] Él soltó una blasfemia y le empezó a dar puñetazos en la cabeza. Luego se quedó otra vez quieto y jadeante. – Por mí puedes morirte, ¡bestia! – le dijo al fin” (Laforet 1995: 49). Gloria’s mistreatment at the hands of Juan is also expressed through an animal comparison. She identifies herself with a rabid dog when recalling episodes of violence: “Me trató peor que a un perro. Peor que a un perro rabioso” (Laforet 1995: 49).2 In Algún amor que no mate, Prudencia self-identifies with a dog due to the loyalty and obedience she has toward her husband, who mistreats her (Chacón 1996: 44).

Juan’s niece, Andrea, also becomes a victim of gender-based violence. The young orphan girl, who has just moved to the family house to pursue a university degree, is harassed by Gerardo. The young man casts himself in the role of the big bad wolf when stalking Andrea through the streets of Barcelona: “¿No te da miedo andar tan solita por las calles? ¿Y si viene el lobito y te come?” (Laforet 1995: 44). In addition to evoking the popular fairy tale of “Little Red Riding Hood,” Gerardo eventually becomes a sexual predator, chasing and sexually harassing Andrea, who in turn becomes his prey: “Yo di un paso para bajar el primer escalón, pero me sujetó del brazo […] Y me cogió del brazo […] Gerardo súbitamente me atrajo hacia él y me besó en la boca” (Laforet 1995: 44, 54). Andrea finally manages to flee from Gerardo’s sexual advances, running through the streets of Barcelona, and returning to the family home where she witnesses Juan’s mistreatment of Gloria.

In the hypermasculine world of tauromachy, the wealthy and popular bullfighter Jaime mistreats his wife in Alcalá’s La mujer del héroe. Despite Consuelo’s fine education and knowledge, Jaime belittles his intellect by comparing her with a mule: “¡Que te calles, no sabes nada […] mula!” (Alcalá 2005: 49). Furthermore, Jaime’s violent behavior toward the bulls that he fights in the ring is projected onto his spouse at home: “Así Jaime […] ponía en práctica en su vida cotidiana sus ‘hazañas’ de albero profiriéndome todo tipo de vejaciones como si yo misma fuera un toro” or “me atacaba con violencia como si fuera uno de sus toros” (127–8). The matador even likens his triumphs in the bullring with his beating his wife: “Yo triunfo en la plaza y en mi casa” (144). Jaime’s violent behavior stems from his patriarchal views regarding gender roles that he expresses by identifying himself with the matador that subjugates his beast-wife: “como al toro bravo, te domino y mato” (43).

Violence within the institution of marriage is also at the core of Rodoreda’s La plaza del diamante. The young and poor carpenter Quimet decides to nickname his girlfriend Natalia “Colometa,” that is, little dove in Catalan: “Me le miré muy incomodada y le dije que me llamaba Natalia y cuando le dije que me llamaba Natalia se volvió a reír y dijo que solo podía tener un nombre: Colometa” (Rodoreda 1982: 10). Quimet’s naming practice represents an act of possession and identity formation (Minardi 2010: 75). Apart from stripping Natalia of her human selfhood, Quimet starts shaping his girlfriend into the image of the docile, peaceful birds that he has at home. In fact, Quimet forces Natalia to quit her job in a bakery so she depends economically on him. Little by little, he isolates her from the real human world and secludes her in his attic, where he raises pigeons. The identification of Natalia with the doves is evident in their shared space at home and mutual subservience to Quimet (Yang 2012: 599). Natalia is subject to physical abuse if she does not comply with her husband’s viewpoints and commands: “Me dio un golpe en la rodilla con el canto de la mano que me hizo levantar la pierna de sorpresa y me dijo que si quería ser su mujer tenía que empezar por encontrar bien todo lo que él encontraba bien” (Rodoreda 1982: 15). Just like one of Quimet’s doves, Natalia needs to be docile and domesticated. The protagonist, indeed, sees herself as a dove: “Me parecía toda yo, pelo, piel y el vestido, olía a paloma” (Rodoreda 1982: 120). Her identity has been erased and changed into a domestic animal subservient to her husband. Once Quimet has died, Natalia feels the urge to return to their apartment. There, with a knife, she carves the name “Colometa” on the door, signaling her former existence as a victim of gender-based violence that she has just left behind.

Focusing on the poverty and unhappiness of postwar Spain, Cela’s La Colmena contains episodes of gender abuse that mirror the patriarchal Francoist regime. Mr. Ventura and Mr. Suárez address their girlfriends as “gansa” and “pichón,” respectively, when ignoring their opinions: “gansa, siéntate aquí” and “¡Tú siempre con tus cosas! pichón” (Cela 2018: 271, 141). The police guard Julio depicts himself as a horny beast while having painful sexual intercourse with Petrita, whom he bites and hits: “¡Ay, qué daño me haces! […] ¡Soy una bestia! ¡Cachonda! El hombre la muerde en la sonrosada garganta” (Cela 2018: 324).

In Juan Marsé’s Últimas tardes con Teresa, the rogue immigrant Manolo, who makes a living by stealing motorbikes in Barcelona, looks for bourgeois girls to climb socially. He is portrayed as a predatory bird – “un pajarraco, aguileño,” “ave de presa” – that sexually harasses women: “Manolo […] cerró el pulgar y el índice como un pico de ave sobre la cremallera del vestido de Teresa y, en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, se la bajo hasta abajo del todo” (Marsé 1966: 75, 265). In the open-air dances, Manolo takes the role of several predators when making sexual advances. He is seen as a wolf and a shark: “susurraba con su hermosa boca de lobo […] sus hermosos dientes de tiburón” (Marsé 1966: 293, 292). When meeting the well-off Teresa, he turns her into an animal to sexualize her. Manolo likens Teresa’s slim anatomy to fish bone and sexually comments on her bottom and breasts: “Estoy aquí porque la raspa tiene un culo y unas tetas de primera, eso es todo” (Marsé 1966: 129). Despite his efforts to seduce her, Manolo ends up with Maruja, a servant whom he mistakes for a bourgeois girl. Manolo’s anger and frustration when he finds out Maruja’s true social class results in his exertion of physical abuse against her. Portraying himself as an animal, he slaps her: “Ahora podía ver también la leve señal rojiza que algún golpe había dejado en uno de los pómulos. «Animal – se dijo – pedazo de animal.»” (73). Manolo degrades Maruja by comparing her with “una marmota” – a pejorative animal metaphor to refer to a maid (44). Besides, Manolo animalizes Maruja and identifies her with “una zorra” to highlight his true sexual intentions, since, for him, Maruja is just a sexual object (71).