Welcome to Dark Legends Unveiled with the Spooky Gals.

We want to give a trigger warning that some of the material and content in this episode will
mention domestic violence, colonialism, madness, murder, and violence on the body.
If this seems like something that is too much, please feel free to skip this episode.
Margarita
On a chilly afternoon, after a heavy cup of coffee, you turn to your window due to the screeching
sounds of a metal cart. The wheels hitting the asphalt make your ears feel like they are on fire, and yet
the woman’s voice that fractures your senses is even more cumbersome. Her body is frail and slender.
Yet, the sound that emerges from her is so powerful and despondent you cannot look away. She sobs
erratically and pushes her cart through the apartment parking lot. You notice her bright floral dress
that barely hangs on her body. Although you are a considerably far distance from her you are aware of
the frugality that has been forced upon this woman. Her bones are prominent. They stick out and
consume the entirety of her being. You want to reach out. You want to comfort this woman and her
menacing cries of sadness, but you cannot move once you have noticed the red marks on her wrists.
You rub your eyes hoping your mind is playing tricks on you and the caffeine is pushing you into a
frenzied madness. Yet, as your fingers decrease the pressure upon your eyelids the red marks are still
there. Your eyes fall upon her shoes, and you see socks soiled in something that resembles blood.
In this moment your breath gets stuck in your throat. You begin to think who is this woman? Is she
injured? Is she mad? What is madness? Is she a victim? Is she the aggressor? Who is she?
As you lay your eyes upon her small figure from your window you feel a force coming and you
realize she begins to turn toward you. Who is it that you see? Do you see yourself? Do you see your
mother? Do you see the woman from your high school class who was murdered by her partner? Do
you see the mad woman that has been painted historically through literature?
Today I want us all to see beyond the scratchy surface of fear that has been instilled in us. What do
scary femme figures represent? What gender roles do they hold? Why is a woman/femme that is
followed or drenched in blood such a scary feat and so much more…
Monica
Welcome, idle listeners, to “Dark Legends Unveiled”, a podcast about women, weeping, and ghosts.
I met with three young scholars from around the world with morbid taste for gothic stories, to present,
compare -and complain, if you will- about three characters, female characters that have come to us
thanks to their unique skills in crying, some alleged cruelty / mental instability, and, ultimately, their
infallible capacity to spook children. I want to start by introducing my colleagues here:
Niloufar Esmaeili is a PhD student in English with a focus on Transnational Feminism and Digital
Activism, and she is delighted to talk today about the mysterious Lechuza –The Owl Woman.
Kristi Lee is a PhD. Candidate in Religions in Antiquity with a focus on Greek and Roman religious
literature. She will be talking about the myth of Medea, to reminds us all that, being a bad b*** is
nothing new.
And, last but not least, Margarita Alely Nuñez Arroyo is a PhD Candidate in American Studies with a
focus on Ghosts in literature in reference to social anxieties, border, colonialism, disability, and
feminism. She will present for us the legend of La Llorona.
Thank you, Nilou, Kristi, and Margarita, for being here today.
While reflecting about women and strong passions, particularly crying, it comes to my mind the old
proverb “boys don’t cry”. We read in a 16th century quote by Michel de Montaigne, about sorrow:
“No man living is more free from this passion than I, who yet neither like it in myself nor
admire it in others, and yet generally the world, as a settled thing, is pleased to grace it with a
particular esteem, clothing therewith wisdom, virtue, and conscience. Foolish and sordid
guise! . . . The Italians have more fitly baptized by this name—[La tristezza]— malignity; for
‘tis a quality always hurtful, always idle and vain; and as being cowardly, mean, and base, it
is by the Stoics expressly and particularly forbidden to their sages.”
[record scratch ef ect]
But wait a second, Montaigne, what can be so wrong with sorrow, or crying? Why are we demonizing
the experience and expression of these intense passions?
Let’s take a look at the three figures at stake here: the Owl woman, Medea, and La Llorona,
fascinating characters that might in fact take advantage of their striking emotions. -Thank you, Nilou,
for kicking off the exhibition of witches.
Nilou
Alright folks. we’re gonna dive into the spooky, the bizarre, and the fantastical world of La Lechuza!
a tale as old as time—or at least a few centuries back. Picture this: a witch exposed for devilish
doings, townsfolk a little less than thrilled, and boom, La Lechuza is born. A shape-shifting owl lady
with a vendetta. Hold onto your hats, it's a wild ride.
La Lechuza is no ordinary owl—she's got the face of an old woman and a wingspan that could give
any NBA player a run for their money. And don't let her size fool you, she's got a talent for carrying
away full-grown men. We're talking about an owl with an attitude!
And if you hear a bird screech at night, well, that's your cue to lock the doors and windows. La
Lechuza might be out, searching for her next midnight snack. She's got this creepy habit of disguising
her voice like a baby's, crying outside your door. It's like a supernatural lullaby with a side of
impending doom.
But wait, there's more! If she's feeling particularly peckish, she might just pick a car filled with
unsuspecting folks, run them off the road, and voila—dinner is served. Now, that's what I call a
drive-thru disaster.
Legend has it, if you try to take her down, you might end up in the same boat—or should I say, nest?
The mechanics of a giant owl lady killing people? It's the mystery of the millennia.
Crossing borders into Northern Mexico and Texas' Rio Grande Valley, La Lechuza isn't just a bedtime
tale. Her cries echo through the night, luring unsuspecting souls into her feathery clutches. She's like
the rockstar of cryptids, with fans far and wide.
Now, let's flip the script to the woman behind the feathers. La Lechuza's origin story often involves a
wronged woman accused of witchcraft. It's like the ultimate revenge plot—make a deal with the devil,
become a shape-shifting owl lady. Take that, haters!
But let's get real here. La Lechuza isn't just a creature of the night; she's a gender-bending force. In
traditional tales, she terrorizes men, especially those with a penchant for mischief. It's a story that
dances on the edges of gender roles—she's feared for not fitting the norm, yet she becomes a beacon
of justice for women wronged.
It's a twisty-turny narrative, reinforcing and challenging societal expectations all at once. It may seem
like a story stuck in the past, modern Lechuza appearances empower women and girls, offering hope
that justice will prevail, even if it's through unconventional means.
And here's a deep dive into history. La Lechuza's roots intertwine with indigenous beliefs and the
clash of Mesoamerica and Spanish colonization. Owls, once spiritual allies, became symbols of
witchcraft and doom. As Christian values took hold, La Lechuza emerged as a symbol of evil, a
supernatural enforcer of colonial order. But hey, who said owls can't have a rebellious streak? In a
world where animals were once spiritual allies, La Lechuza flips the script as a creature feared and
revered.
So, there you have it, the whimsical and wicked tale of La Lechuza—the shape-shifting,
gender-bending, and justice-serving owl lady. Keep your eyes on the night sky, folks, you never know
when those feathery wings might come swooping down.
Mónica
We certainly love rebellious, subversive characters in this podcast. Let’s turn the page now to hear
about the powerful role of Medea. Thank you for joining us, Kristi.
Kristi
Imagine you’re in ancient Greece, specifically fifth century Athens. You go to the festival of
Dionysus, an annual spring festival celebrating all things Dionysian - wine, debauchery, and theater.
This year, there is a performance of the myth of Medea, written by Euripides. You sit in an
amphitheater with 16,000 other spectators and witness a story that shocks you, repulses you, but…
you cant look away?
This is the myth of Medea. A story of a princess who turned into a monster. (music - our main theme
music?)
The story goes: Medea was a princess of Colchis (in modern-day Georgia), and she runs away with
the Greek hero Jason. Along the way she commits treason, chops her brother into pieces and throws
him in the sea, and forces three young girls to butcher and cook their own father - busy woman! But
she does all of this for Jason, because she is madly, desperately in love with him.
And what does Jason do in return for such devotion? He dumps her for another princess. (womp
womp lol) But this isn’t a mere breakup, he breaks his sacred vow of loyalty to her, and this means he
must be punished.
To Medea’s credit, she spends her days wailing, pleading with Jason to keep his oath out of fealty to
the gods and compassion for her. But Jason just tells her to stop being so emotional and be thankful he
brought her to Greece and away from her gross barbarian land… and to top it off says the world
would be better if women didn’t exist… yeah he really should not have said that.
So how does Medea get her revenge? (cue horror movie music) She takes a scythe and butchers the
two most important people in Jason’s life - his children - her children. And then burns Jason’s fiance
and her father alive, for good measure. After this, Medea flies into the night in a chariot of Helios
pulled by dragons, and she lives happily ever after. (evil laugher)
So… what does all this mean?? For the Greeks, Medea represented the ultimate bogeyman. She lived
on the fringes of society - being a woman who was far more powerful than all the men around her …
to such an extent that many of the men around her ended up dead. Her story posed a nightmarish
question to the ancients… what if women stopped obeying men? What if men were at the mercy of
women? It’s topsy-turvy, chaotic, even murderous.
Listen to this line from the chorus of Euripides’ Medea, “The holy rivers have reversed their stream,
the order of all things is turned upside down, and men are liars who do not honor their oaths to the
gods” For the men in this myth, it’s horrible, but the chorus of women go on to say, “honor is finally
coming to women.” This story is a harrowing battle of the sexes, in which gender norms are uprooted
and turned into a fantasy - nightmarish for some, but a beacon of light to others.
But the story of Medea doesn’t end there. For over two thousand centuries, the story of Medea has
remained popular and has evolved as cultures have changed. The recent book Circe by Madeline
Miller tells the story of the witch Circe, who was Medea’s aunt, and offers a redemptive arc for both
witches. The story of Medea has become an iconic exploration of foreigner vs native, woman vs man,
nature vs civilization, and will doubtlessly provoke horror and amazement for years to come.
Mónica
There we have another passionate woman, whose influence in the world makes the “rivers reverse
their stream”. With such powerful hyperbole, we now turn the attention to our last story, the Legend of
La Llorona, where we see again an unsettling clash between love and horror. Margarita, tell us more
about it!
La Llorona
*Music Ay mis Hijos
Margarita
As a young Chicana girl la Llorona has always been a prevalent symbol in the stories I heard. She was
the mythical woman I would fear. She was the woman that I and many other children would hear
outside our windows late at night. In my culture, she represents not only cultural expectations, and
femme performance, but also the notion of bad motherhood.
Today, due to the work of wonderful Chicana scholars like Gloria Anzadlua, Domino Renee
Perez, and many more la Llorona seeps into so many facets of our lives. We begin to understand her
more. She exists on the border to continue screaming and releasing el llanto de la miles mujeres who
are killed on the border. La Llorona transcends borders by not being solely a Mexican being. She
exists across all of Latin America. La Llorona crossing the border is not only a Mexican experience, it
is an immigrant experience. I relay this idea of migration and crossing the border from one of the
latest films The Curse of La Llorona produced in 2019 by Michael Chaves. (which I did not have high
expectations of but needed to watch for my own critique) In this film the ghostly woman la llorona
crosses the border and haunts a family in the city of Los Angeles.
Scholar Luis Leon states:
La Llorona… dating back to the sixteenth-century Mesoamerican pantheon of goddesses. As
the ghostly apparition of the weeping woman, repeatedly guilty of infanticide, she appears in
anguish, searching for her children. She is history/myth/legend and more: siren calling, crying
evil, decrying injustice: remorse, regret, pain, change: sorrow, suffering, lamenting: she wants
another chance, to right a wrong. She is a universal symbol of the eternal soul who never
completely disappears but whose form, whose shape, is shifted and changed; even while her
essence answers to the vicissitudes of life, it remains unchanged” (Leon 10).
Today I will teach you about the folktale of La Llorona. I must let you know that today many different
variations exist. Yet, the story I was told was that of a beautiful Mexican woman who lived in a small
pueblo. She was said to have immense beauty. A gringo man came to her pueblo from el otro lado (the
United States). It is said that he was struck by her beauty and soon they were lovers. Their romance
brought two boys into their lives. Yet, he had to return home and promised he would return for her and
their children Yet, after he left there were rumors that he had another family. Out of deep anguish and
grief, she drowns her two boys in a nearby river. After she commits the murders she realizes her grave
crime. Her punishment is to forever roam wailing for her dead children. The pueblo where she was
from soon began to guard children as many began to disappear and it was believed la Llorona took
them, mistaking them for her dead boys.
This is the variation I grew up with, but such a story today has moved in very different
directions. La Llorona is said to be derived and connected to La Malinche, who holds a very vilified
spot in Mexican history. La Malinche was the Indigenous woman who became the translator for
Hernan Cortez in the Conquista of the Aztec Empire. To many Mexicans, she represents traitorous
deeds with the Spanish. Octavio Paz, one of the most known Mexican literary critics wrote in his
book El Laberinto de Soledad, or The Labyrinth of Solitude.
The Chingada is the violated mother…The Chinagda is seen more passive. Her passivity is
abject: she does not resist violence but is an inert heap of bones, blood, and dust. Her taint is
constitutional and resides, as we said earlier, in her sex. This passivity, open to the outside
world causes her to lose her identity: she is the Chingada. She loses her name. She is no one;
she disappears into nothingness, she is nothingness. (Paz 84)
Yet, many Chicana/x scholars have pushed back on these interpretations. They state that Malinche was
a woman who was a slave and did what she had to to survive in a world that did not garner her
freedom. As well as the idea that one woman brought the mestizo race to existence willingly
discredits the violence that indigenous women received and continue to receive through colonialism.
Thus, La Llorona becomes another metaphor for the vilified woman in Latin American history that
connects to the indigenous origins of Mexico, Central, and South America. She, like La Malinche is
cast as an evil woman who brought the demise of her people and children.
Another version of la Llorona speaks to the many immigrant lives lost in El Rio Grande. In
another variation of the folktale story, an impregnated woman crosses the border to reach her lover en
el otro lado (the United States). She crosses with her child en el Rio Grande and loses them in the
journey due to the strong currents of the river. Then she forever cries for her lost child by the Rio
Grande, becoming a symbol of the many children lost at the border and the pain imposed on
immigrant mothers.
To me, La Llorona represents many things. She is still a figure of fear in the dark lonely
nights when I hear cries. Yet, I do not fear la Llorona, instead, I fear the wounds that she carries and
that brought her to this space of sorrow and pain. As someone who is a chillona (a huge crybaby), I
feel seen through la Llorona. I feel empowered by my tears y llanto. I cry and release the emotions
that straddle me.
Yet la llorona also pushes me to theorize new possibilities. I believe she reminds us of the
misconceptions that are pushed onto women/femmes. The ideas of madness that are inflicted onto our
souls as devious beings. She exists close to water , to a location of healing and birth. Thus, the
question she poses to me currently is how global warming will impact her existence. What does it
mean when the Rio Grande dries up? Where will she be? How will the voices of all those injured be
heard? And is this a further assault on the representations of femmes in the world. I think to myself
how la llorona is the wails of mother earth and what new modes of theorizing she will bring.
Mónica
Impossible not to be fascinated by the obscure power these figures convey. In a way, an incarnation
of the deepest fears of our societies. Impossible not to see how in their process of shaping a myth,
these three figures give way to a repudiation of passionate feelings, such as jealousy, fear, sorrow; to
the rejection of rebellious behavior that escapes the norm. If the woman fails to be or do what is
possible, what is appropriate, what is necessary, she becomes a witch, a monster, a specter
meandering between different realms: neither completely human, nor fully animal; not quite alive, but
never to rest in peace. Here, but always a stranger.
But along with this condemnation to be outsiders, what strikes me the most about these fantastic
women is their transformative power. They are transformed themselves in the story –into birds,
monsters, ghosts, witches–, they transform values –as the owl, from spiritual allie to symbol of evil–,
they turn love into fierceness, the victim into the villain… and, most importantly, this transformative
faculty transcend their will and keeps the myth moving: now the fearsome ghost becomes a figure that
set us free to embrace our passions; now the relentless Medea comes back in her chariot in the middle
of the night to illuminate other women in their process of empowerment; now the Owl Woman vows
to avenge deceived woman.

We hope you are now ready to love, weep and cry out. Thank you all for listening.
Music by:
Evandro Gomes
Denys Kyshchuk
Michael Schuller
Victor Natas
Alonsotm
Sound Effects by:
McCrunchy
Floraphonic
Robin hood 76
Racche
Thimblerig
RasberryTickle2
MartyPinso