My Instagram explore page is now filled with hot takes about men walking out of limousines, which means it’s Bachelorette season again. In this chaotic time of new hosts (bye Chris Harrison) and awkward dates (mud wrestling?), I wanted to visit the theme of rejection. Obviously the Bachelorette is a show that centers upon rejection, and although I can’t currently watch it (Hulu is not available outside the U.S.), it seems like there’s been some harsh rejection already, not from Katie herself but among the men for their purity of intention. On this tangent, the drama is probably all manufactured anyways, but is it really possible to come on the show for the chosen bachelorette (honestly back in the day Shawn saying he would come for Kaitlyn seemed a little like jumping the gun)? Being open to love and marriage, as well as watching Matt’s season, is the most any of these contestants should have to do, since any specific fixation on a woman before meeting her seems to me like putting her on a pedestal and not respecting her individuality. And given the trajectory of previous stars, as well as the high probability that any one contestant will not end up with Katie, is it unreasonable to think about being cast as a professional opportunity?
In a larger sense, the potential for rejection is an essential part of every negotiation, whether interpersonal like on the Bachelorette or between different political and cultural factions. One of the last articles I managed to download before my university library privileges disappeared was “In the name of Ossian: Celtic Galicia and the ‘brothers from the north’” by Javier Campos Calvo-Sotelo, in a 2019 edition of Social Identities. He describes two conflicting rejections: that of Spanish centralism and that of a shaky-at-best historical foundation.
The idea in question is Celticism, specifically that of Galicia. Proclamations of Celtic identity are ubiquitous here, from public installations to the names of bars and stores. In Santiago’s cidade vella there is is almost always a bagpipe going. The majority of my students who have studied abroad went to Ireland, even though England has the more internationally “standard” English accent. Calvo-Sotelo says that the whole idea of a Celtic ancestry began in 1761, with James Macpherson’s publishing of Fingal. This Romantic idea of a shared cultural identity, with few established historical facts to set any real guidelines, could morph into whatever it wanted: “The Celts, thereby interpreted, allow the rewriting of history, establishing ethnic and cultural profiles in accordance with the ideological patterns of their mentors” (829).
Those who reject the region’s Celticism have good reason, as has been constructed over the past few hundred years and has no real connection to whatever group used to live in Iberia/the British Isles/Brittany in antiquity. Calvo-Sotelo’s various interviewers described the idea of a Celtic culture as “represent[ing] the denigration of real Galician history” and “[not] credible” (830). And as the popularity of Celticism in Galicia was based on things like the martial bagpipe, which resembled what Scotland had chosen to represent its own Celtic brand, “the martial bagpipe was assumed by many people to be a betrayal of native authenticity, an alienation of ‘Galician’ values” (835). In addition to its lack of historical backing, Celticism all over the world has also been associated with far-right xenophobic movements.
Celticism, however, can also be a valuable way to push back against the dominance of the national mainstream (just as Castile was militaristically dominant over the rest of Iberia in the fifteenth century, so too are people here still annoyed by Madrid nowadays). Calvo-Sotelo writes that “the Celtic waves of the 1970s and 1990s provoked a radical abandonment of the castanets (omnipresent for centuries in Galician popular usage) because of their flamenco—and, therefore, ‘Spanish’—connotations” (831). Alain Stivell, a proponent of Celticism in Brittany, wrote this solidarity statement: “‘We the celts of Brittany, Ireland, and other lands, after being drowned to death by the great oppressor states (France, England…) are satisfied to see Galicians revalue their share of common Celtic heritage to better defend their national personality against Spain’” (834). Celticism is thus an alternative cultural identity that allows these countries’ peripheral regions to detach themselves from imperial behavior. Importantly, for Galicia which has recently transitioned to a majority-urban population, “the Celtic semiological universe represents in our time a vital alternative to urban life” (838).
One of the poets that Calvo-Sotelo cites as a major early contributor to the myth of Galician Celticism is the beloved Rosalía de Castro. Here is the eighth poem in her Cantares Gallegos collection (1863):
Un repoludo gaiteiro
de pano sedán vestido,
como un príncipe cumprido,
cariñoso e falangueiro,
antre os mozos o primeiro
e nas siudades sin par
tiña costume en cantar
aló pola mañanciña:
Con esta miña gaitiña
às nenas hei de engañar
Sempre pola via entraba
con aquel de señorío,
sempre con poxante brío
co tambor se acompasaba;
e si na gaita sopraba,
era tan doce soprar,
que ben fixera en cantar
aló pola mañanciña:
Con esta miña gaitiña
ás nenas hei de engañar.
Todas por el reloucaban,
todas por el se morrían,
si o tiñan cerca, sorrían,
si o tiñan lonxe, choraban.
¡Mal pecado! Non coidaban
que c’aquel seu frolear
tiña costume en cantar
aló pola mañanciña:
Con esta miña gaitiña
ás nenas hei de engañar.
Camiño da romería,
debaixo dunha figuera,
¡canta meniña solteira
“Quérote”, lle repetía!…
I el ca gaita respondía
por a todas emboucar,
pois ben fixera en cantar
aló pola mañanciña:
Con esta miña faitiña
ás nenas hei de engañar
Elas louquiñas bailaban
e por xunta del corrían,
cegas…,cegas, que non vían
as espiñas que as cercaban;
probes palomas, buscaban
a luz que as iba queimar,
pois que el soupera cantar
aló pola mañanciña:
Ó son da miña gaitiña
ás nenas hei de engañar.
¡Nas festas, canto contento!
¡Canta risa nas fiadas!
Todas, todas, namoradas,
déranlle o seu pensamento;
i el que de amores sedento
quixo a todas engañar,
cando as veu dimpois chorar
cantaba nas mañanciñas:
Non sean elas toliñas
non veñan ó meu tocar.
Like in Lorca’s moonlight poem, the protagonist here is a young man, and there is some witchcraft about, as the music that he plays is so alluring. The repeating chorus goes, “With my little bagpipe/I will trick the girls.” He seems to be generally likeable, dressing like a prince and without an equal among the other boys. He has fangirls who would die for him, smile when he’s near, and cry when he’s gone. The single girls scream out that they love him. They get progressively closer, as they dance to his music, unaware of his dangerous intentions. The result is chilling, as he is “thirsty for love,” takes advantage of all of them, and leaves them crying. The girls obviously then learn to pass him by, thus leaving him perpetually alone: “They aren’t crazy/they don’t come when I play.”
This seems like the classic virgin-gets-ruined story that has been around since the start of the patriarchy, but it strays slightly from the traditional plot, in which a man spots a girl from afar, hooks up with her, then abandons her. In this traditional version, it is not explicitly stated what the man has to offer, yet the girl mostly participates in the hookup willingly. Rosalía’s version, though, flips the courtship process. Rather than the man discovering a girl, the girls come to this man. And he does have something to offer them and lure them in: the beautiful song from his bagpipe. The regret is the same; his caring and outgoing exterior is only a facade for his disrespect for women. Nevertheless, it is interesting that the defining characteristic of a charming guy is not money or status or looks but his mastery of an instrument that would come to represent Celticism.
About a month ago I made this pasta that, like Celticism, is simple and rustic enough to seem like it’s been around forever. You can definitely substitute in other veggies here, but it’s a must that they be edible raw, as it’s only getting a light burst of heat in the pan and is not getting simmered into a sauce.
Bagpipe-Band Pasta
Ingredients
- 6 cloves garlic
- radishes
- cherry tomatoes
- parsley
- mushroom slices
- 1/2 cup TVP, hydrated
- 650g dry pasta
- jar vegan pesto
- jar vegan cream
- vegan butter
- lemon juice
- plant milk
- salt
Directions
- Mince garlic and put on high heat with vegan butter, TVP, and mushrooms slices for 3 to 5 minutes.
- Slice radishes and halve cherry tomatoes. Add to the pan for 2 to 3 minutes.
- Add vegan pesto and cream, stir briefly, and add a dash of milk and lemon juice for a texture that will better coat the pasta. Add in chopped parsley. Salt to taste. Turn off heat.
- Incorporate well with cooked and drained pasta.
Makes 5 meals.
Racións 
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