In this chapter, Krawiec analyses Palladius’ Lausiac History to argue that Melania “is a transgressive figure in terms both of gender and of sexuality, most significantly because of her relationship to monastic memory” (131). In particular, Krawiec uses the category (or “noncategory”) of “queer” to understand Melania’s position and sexual status. Krawiec sees her status as an ascetic woman as a challenge to normative female sexuality – the same status that allows her to be an influential female voice even among men. Furthermore, the multiple roles Melania plays also contest and complicate the social memory of gender.
Krawiec begins by presenting her view of the Lausiac History as an artifact of “collective monastic memory” (132) that is meant to remind readers of important virtues. This monastic memory is cohesive at least in part, Krawiec argues, because it is primarily male. Even memories of women come from reports by men, often resulting in a view of women’s practice in men’s terms. For example, Palladius says that he attempts to “commemorate in this book the manly women to whom God granted struggles equal to those of men so that no one can plead as an excuse that women are too weak to practice virtue successfully” (133, citing Palladius 41.1).
However, Melania the Elder does not fit this pattern. Krawiec argues that rather than being gendered – masculinized – her memory is queered. An interesting example of this comes in the story of Alexandra, who leaves the city to entomb herself and refuses to meet face-to-face with any person. Melania narrates her encounter with Alexandra, through which she found out that Alexandra had hidden herself because her body had caused male heterosexual desire. What is interesting is that Melania “has a memory voice that serves in place of the male gaze” (134), indicating to the readers Alexandra’s desirability. Melania queers gender and sexuality because desire, even male heterosexual desire, has to be experienced through Melania’s gaze. Melania is termed he anthropos of God, a label that lets her function as both an object and subject of memory. For example, she is explicitly authorized to record the memory of Pambo, a male monk – ho anthropos of God. Melania’s memory is authoritative because she is queered through it.
Not only are Melania’s memories queered, but memory of Melania also “becomes a genderqueered memorial” (136). In creating this form of memory, Palladius promotes Origenist monasticism over Jerome’s ideology. To demonstrate this, Krawiec contrasts the Lausiac History with Jerome’s account of Marcella. Marcella, too, has authority – in her case as a teacher. But Jerome shows that “she teaches, but as a woman” (137); her voice does not contain the kind of agency that could “emasculate” the men she teaches. The strength of Jerome’s account of Marcella comes precisely from her “gender-fixity,” and so his account reinforces gender norms. In contrast, Melania teaches in her own words even to those of the highest rank. On the one hand, her roles as a scriptural interpreter, a “monastic abba,” and even an “orator to the Senate” (138) carry clear male connotations. On the other hand, Palladius also refers to Melania as a loving mother and concerned grandmother, clearly establishing her in female gender roles. Even outside the monastic setting, in the memory of Melania “gender has a distinctly different role than in Jerome” (138).
In this chapter, Krawiec crafts an excellent (and succinct) analysis of Melania’s gender in the Lausiac History. Her use of “queerness,” as suggested by Virginia Burrus and Amy Hollywood, is convincing and novel. At the same time, her argument is supported by many detailed analysesGenderqueer memory should provoke significant discussion in any analysis of late antique female asceticism.