A Queer Gaze on the Virgin Mary: Deconstructing the Violent Framework of the "Virgin/Whore" Binary (Part 1)

This article begins with a disturbing true story.

Theologian Teguh Wijaya Mulya, in his research, recorded the memory of an 18-year-old Indonesian youth named Ayub:

"I was very naughty in the seventh grade. There was a girl in my class who was like... a 'cheap girl'. One day, my male classmates and I played a prank on her. When the teacher wasn't in the classroom, we turned off the lights, rushed towards her, and grabbed her 'things' [referring to her sexual body parts]."

Ayub's narrative starkly reveals a form of violence deeply rooted in our culture and religion—a violence "Virgin/Whore" dichotomy. This framework simplifies women into two categories: either pure, submissive "good girls" worthy of protection, or, like the "cheap girl" in Ayub's words, "bad girls" considered morally corrupt and open to violation. This categorization allows sexual violence against the latter to be casually dismissed as a "prank" and even "rationalized."

When we discuss this issue, we rarely connect it with the most revered woman in Christianity—the Virgin Mary. She is the perfect virgin, the chaste mother, the model of obedience.

However, what do we discover when we put on our queer glasses and re-examine this figure, shrouded in centuries of halos?

Mary's Autonomy: A Woman Who Belongs to No Man

Traditionally, Mary's "virginity" is understood as a physiological state of having no sexual experience. But Mulya cites an older etymological meaning, pointing out that the original meaning of the word "virgin" is not the same as the traditionally proclaimed "sexual purity."

• In Hebrew, ‘almȃ refers to a young, unmarried woman, with the emphasis on her age and marital status, not necessarily her sexual purity.
• In Latin, virgo, and in Greek, parthenos, the fundamental meaning is closer to "a woman who does not belong to any man."

Therefore, the original concept of a "virgin" is more about "sexual independence" than "sexual abstinence." As a parthenos, Mary is first and foremost an independent, autonomous individual not subordinate to any man, not just a girl with no sexual experience. This forgotten meaning fundamentally shakes the foundation of "purity" on which the "Madonna/Whore" dichotomy relies.

From this perspective, the focus of Mary's identity is not her sexual purity, but her autonomy. In a patriarchal society where women were considered the property of men, a woman "who belongs to no man" is in itself a radical declaration. Her choice bypasses the secular system of marriage and relates directly to God. This is an awesome, sacred autonomy that belongs to her alone.

The Annunciation: A Divine Encounter, or an Involuntary Violation?

Within this framework, the most subversive question points to the core scene of the "Annunciation."

The angel Gabriel said to Mary, "You will conceive and give birth to a son." He did not ask for her consent but directly announced a fact that was about to happen to her. When Mary asked in confusion, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" the angel replied that the Holy Spirit would "come upon" (epeleusetai) you, and the power of the Most High would "overshadow" (episkiasei) you.

Mulya points out that these two verbs, in other biblical texts, often carry connotations of "suddenly descending," "assailing," or "covering," and are even used to describe disasters or attacks. This dialogue is less a gentle invitation and more a declaration of unequal power. Feminist scholar Lois Pineau once used an analogy to describe what "true consent" is: it should be an equal "dialogue," not an "offer from the Mafia"—in the latter, you simply don't have the right to say "no."

Could Mary's final response, "Let it be with me according to your word," not be one of complete joy and submission, but rather, in the face of overwhelming divine power, the only and most courageous survival strategy a weak woman could adopt?

This is not a casual speculation. The Incarnation is the Word of God entering the world in a way that transcends human ethics. Jesus was not born of a union between a man and a woman. From a societal perspective, Mary's unwed pregnancy was destined to label her as "unchaste." For this reason, the Gospel of Matthew records that her upright fiancé, Joseph, had thought of divorcing her.

It can be said that Mary's suffering is the first manifestation of the "tension between God and the world." The social pressure and shame she endured stemmed from the conflict between divine intervention and human ethical norms. This "divine violence" made her a social outcast, a marginal person. From this perspective, Mary's experience may place her in the same camp as countless women throughout history who have experienced sexual violence. Her holiness lies not in her perfection, but in her shouldering of a fate she did not choose, and in living out the most profound resilience and faith of humanity.

She is no longer just a static idol enshrined on an altar, but a complex woman of flesh and blood, full of struggle and courage. Her story is no longer just a heartwarming picture on a Christmas card, but a queer parable that challenges all our stereotypes about power, sex, and the sacred.

(To be continued)