“Woman to Man”, Judith Wright, a Critical analysis.

It is ironical how, historically, childbirth has always been an incident handled by men
in literature, especially given the relatively little responsibility they share, compared to
the colossal undertaking of their adjacent sex. However, ironical though it is, it is not
surprising given that all affairs concerning women, even those of enacting women on
stage, were once handled, however ineptly, by men.
“Oliver Twist” begins with the tumultuous birth of Oliver and the tragic death of her
shrivelled mother, described in masterful, pathetic detail by Mr. Dickens. However, he
is a man and his take, as the account proves, is only on the external affairs of the
occasion. The delusional mother is merely an object of momentary sympathy, one of
the many that inhabit the Dickensian realm of squalor, a figure that hastily enters and
leaves our imagination. We’re more concerned with Oliver, the kid, than his mother.
Milton’s “Nativity Ode” is no different in that Jesus remains the centre of attention,
and external events fill up the description of the occasion. The Lady in the barn is a
mere conduit. Sylvia Plath’s concluding line in “Stillborn”, a poem we’ll handle in
detail later, - “they stupidly stare and do not speak of her” - is true of most of the
traditional Western canon on childbirth.
It is perhaps this that makes Judith Wright’s 1949 poem, “Woman to Man”, both
remarkable and necessary. It is a pregnant woman’s thrilling account of a duty she
must perform, and the implications thereof. Here, for once, the mother matters just as
much as the child.’
Though not strictly the case, the poem reads like a dramatic monologue, with the
woman addressing her husband in places – “yet you and I have known it well” – while
revealing her nervous, exalted state of mind as she defines and redefines the
significance of the child, to her, to them as a couple, and to the universe as a whole. In
doing so, Wright portrays a remarkable skill in metaphor making, emphasised by the
anaphoric use of “this”, 6 times in the poem. In all of these cases, the mother calls the
child everything but that; “eyeless labourer”, “hunter”, “chase”, “blood’s wild tree”,
“intricate and folded rose”, “the maker”, “the made”, “the question”, “reply”,
everything but a mere child. Wright is, here, stressing, time and time again, how much
more a child means to a mother, than just a continuation of the race.
The poem is a unique combination of the traditional and the modern. The phrase, “no
child with a child’s face”, for instance, is an obvious reference to the embryonic state
of the baby. This is modern science making itself felt. References to the sexual
encounter – “the third who lay in our embrace” – the unintended, secret consequence
– “silent and swift and deep from sight” – of which the child was, is also atypical of a
traditional childbirth poem, where focus is often solely on the birthing aspect of the
event and not on what came before.
However, these same lines, also represent, in subtle ambiguity, a traditional, religious
connotation. The first stanza, in particular, may be read entirely in reference to
Biblical events. The Son of God would be the “eyeless labourer”, who spins his plans,
God’s mysterious ways, unknown to man – “in the night”, “silent and swift and deep
from sight”. More obvious references to God enacting his great plan through his son,
are made when the woman refers to the child as the ‘seed’ that “builds for its
resurrection day” and “foresees the unimagined light” of revelation; “resurrection” is a
choice of word so unusual to the situation that it’s deliberate usage may be put entirely
down to the potential connotations Wright thought it would bring. The references
continue for first three lines of the next stanza. This is “no child with a child’s face”,
because it is the Son of God himself. He doesn’t have a name because he isn’t born.
And yet, “you and I have known it well”, because we’ve known him as a part of the
Holy Trinity, one among the “Heav'n's high council-table”1.
Biblical references are a characteristic feature of Wright. In “Bora Ring”, she refers to
Cain’s murder of his brother Abel to draw an analogy between that deplorable
incident and the continuous exploitation and eradication of the Australian Aboriginals
by their brothers, the European settlers. Meanwhile in “Bullocky”, man’s continuous
search for a better life and land is compared to the Biblical exodus of Moses.
Ambiguity is one of the features of Wright’s poetry. The line “you and I have known
it well”, for instance, can also be read in connection with the next stanza as an
expression of genetic union, a continuation of the bloodline – “the blood’s wild tree
that grows”. Meanwhile, “maker” may refer both to God as well as to the earthly fact
that the baby will, one day, bear children of its own.
The last stanza, shifts the focus, gradually, back onto the woman and her fears. Words
such as “butting”, “blade”, “blaze”, “dark” emphasize the chaotic situation and the
scared mother, culminating in her profound, desperate appeal to the father to guide her
through it safely. The last line is, in my opinion, the most powerful of the entire poem,
because in those 7 words, Wright sums up the father’s little yet large role in the affair.
He must be by her. He must hold her hand and he must make not let her feel alone in
the fight. The expression is shockingly simple and beautiful.
A major reason behind such beautiful poetry was the rise of women in the genre, as
the 20th century progressed, to provide vivid, first-hand experiences. The Woman-
Shakespeare, from Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own”, finally had her say. It is for this
reason that a comparative study of Wright’s poem with Plath’s “Stillborn”, helps put
both in better perspective. The similarities begin with their shared timelines. The
poems of both were written around the 1950s, and both focus on the experience of the
mother bearing the baby. However, that is where the similarities end. Plath’s poem is
the other side of the coin. Judith Wright’s poem reveals the mother’s sense of fear and
responsibility; however, they are treated as mere collaterals to what is eventually a
beautiful phenomenon. This is not the case with “Stillborn”. Plath’s poem,
representative of the tragic life she lived, is the alternative, ‘the other outcome’, the
horrific failure that can result. The mother’s words in “Stillborn” are objectifying and
earthly, starting with the pronoun “they”, to establish the distance; “foreheads bulged
with concentration”, “a piggy and fishy air”, “proper in shape and number and every
part”. It feels as if the mother is describing a statue. She is, for the child is dead. She
comes across as almost heartless. This is outstanding poetry because it reflects the
mother’s absolute sense of despair, which is so deep, so dangerous, and in Plath’s
case, even suicidal, that if she allows herself the luxury to grieve, she will implode.
It’s a dam she cannot break, otherwise the tragedy would flood her.
“Stillborn” is a twin to “Woman to Man”. Reading it lets us understand the fear that
the woman in Wright’s poem feels and the sheer weight of the responsibility she
musters. To harbour a living, breathing human being within oneself, undertaking its
responsibility, is immense psychological pressure, akin to Atlas holding up the
heavens. We must not ‘stupidly stare’, we must ‘speak of her’ and we must hold her
when she’s afraid.

Annotations.
1. “On the Morning of Christ's Nativity” by John Milton.

- Arnab Mukherjee; Exam Roll: 18214ENG036; Class Roll: 126;

B.A. 6th Sem;