The power of women in the candomblé.

This morning, scrolling through the comments left by the visitors of the facebook page, I found the angry emoticon face of a reader who, seeing a photo of a lunch in our terreiro, commented that the number of men sitting at the table seemed disproportionate.

I didn't count how many men and how many women had been immortalized on that occasion; it may be that in that photo there are actually more males than females.

However, the comment, to be appreciated since it is still time for women to fight loudly for the affirmation of their rights, seemed inadequate to the context to which was referred, that is, a house of candomblé.

Obviously this reader, as well as many of you and myself before knowing this culture closely, cannot know what the role of women is in the candomblé.

Candomblé was indeed born as a matriarchal structure.

In ancient times men could not even be initiated into the cult of the orixás: they could not incorporate the saint (i.e. be prepared to access the inner energy of their orixá), dance in the “xiré” of the orixás and, therefore, they could not aspire to the role of spiritual guide.

In some very traditionalist houses this prohibition is still preserved; in others, always tied to tradition but not so fundamentalist, men are allowed to be initiated but in no way to assume the role of “Pai de Santo”, as the guide of the terreiro is handed down in an exclusively female line.

I asked Pai Odé why this power was so strong in the hands of women in an era, when candomblé was born in Brazil, where it is difficult to think that Brazilian society could boast this opening.

The answer was as simple as it was rich in meaning and respect for all that women represent.

Candomblé is a religion and cultural tradition that involves taking care of the orixás and their children (all the initiated into the cult).

Women, as mothers, are those who, by definition, welcome, protect, care.

In the early candomblé almost all the rituals were reserved for women, as they were considered the only capable of taking care of the deities.

However, it was a role of care that was not conceived as a service, in a condition of servility and subordination. On the contrary, this task was entrusted exclusively to women, as they were considered the only worthy in the eyes of the Orixás.

In traditional candomblè, therefore, women not only were not subordinate to men, but their leadership role was undisputed.

Nowadays in many “terreiros” the tradition of matriarchy has been lost and men are easily found at the helm of the Community.

However, in some way the primacy of women is always perceived.

Candomblé postulates a strict hierarchical order and requires respect for roles that depend, substantially and simplifying, "on the seniority of saint".

As in all communities, there may be questions on the distribution of power on the hierarchical scale but, in my direct experience and as far as Pai Odè confirms me, there are no issues of minor rights of some categories of people.

Rather, in candomblé there is a great openness to minorities, for example to people who suffer racial discrimination or because of sexual orientation.

I like to think that this is the happy legacy left by peoples who have had to fight for their freedom.

Mimosa, the woman's flower par excellence …