Most of the saints in this exhibit were canonized for notably specific reasons. Of course, all saints were committed to Christian principles against enormous odds; canonization celebrates people of integrity whose devotion to God mattered more to them than social pressure or self-preservation.
But the canonization of girl saints has depended on some unique assumptions. Girls have traditionally been valued for their representation of lack or absence: silence, not speech; passivity, not action; simplicity, not complexity; purity, not corruption. Many girls in this exhibit were canonized not for socially relevant actions, but for being victims of rape, mutilation, and murder. Saint Agatha, for example, whose refusal to marry – at the age of twelve – got her imprisoned in a brothel where she was raped and had her breasts cut off, among other tortures, before she was killed. Art history has “honored” Agatha through images that show her carrying her own severed breasts on a platter.
We’re told that God loves the innocent because they embody His goodness and His wish for humankind to be good. But humans—lacking God’s perfection—have more complicated reasons. For centuries, we have perversely found the innocence of female youth most symbolically intriguing when it undergoes grisly destruction.
While there are thousands of saints in the Catholic canon, the ones whose names are famous are fewer in number; they include Joan of Arc, whom God told to lead France’s army against England in the 15th century. Even Joan’s story traffics in the assumptions of purity and innocence that attach to female youth more than to other people: if a male “John of Arc” had been told by God to lead an army, he likely would not have inspired the suspicion and outrage that led Joan to be imprisoned, tried, and executed as a sorceress.
But Joan was not merely a victim; she was a brave soldier who changed the world through her devotion. In the twentieth century, as women’s social freedoms and powers increased, Joan’s story acquired extra resonance. Coincidentally, she was canonized only in 1920—the same year when American women got the right to vote. Over the last hundred years Joan has appeared in novels, plays, films, and television programs that celebrate her strength of body and character alongside her martyrdom.
One recent revival of Joan’s image came in the American television series Joan of Arcadia (2003-2005), about a high-school girl who converses with God. Visiting Joan in various guises, God blesses and burdens her with carrying out His tasks for the betterment of humankind. Deprived of explanations, Joan must act on faith alone, taking considerable risks: she must make a public spectacle of herself, meddle where she is unwelcome, and – like her French forebear – struggle against accusations that she is mentally compromised. She is accused, not of sorcery, but of its modern counterpart—insanity. The series still uses ancient assumptions of girls’ “lack”—Joan is not particularly bright or talented—but it celebrates her faith and her power to do good without sexualizing or degrading her.
Even the critically acclaimed series Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003), which seemingly says nothing about God or religion, portrays a teenage girl who is “chosen” to save the world; after sacrificing her life in the battle of good and evil, she is resurrected from the dead to keep fighting. At no point is Buffy successfully sexualized against her will, to serve either the brutality of her enemies or the fetishistic voyeurism of her audience.
Today, we still like our stories of girl martyrs, but we have more diversity in how we imagine them. Tales of their victimhood are sometimes, now, counter-balanced by tales of girls’ strength, integrity, selflessness, and unwavering dedication. What form will the image of the Girl Saint take next?