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Depth Psychology in Gloria Anzaldúa’s Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza

The essay first shows that Gloria Anzaldúa’s Borderlands aligns with many Jungian psychological concepts, including the shadow, the collective unconscious, the unus mundus, and active imagination. It then reads the text through the lens provided by James Hillman’s Re-Visioning Psychology, a book she considers “instrumental.” His personifying, pathologizing, psychologizing, and soul-making or dehumanizing—a reworking of the Jungian individuation process—provide relevant analogies for Anzaldúan thought, particularly her conocimiento process. Using Hillman as a lens helps to schematize her broad array of subjects. Despite depth psychology’s relevance to Borderlands, however, the essay argues that Anzaldúa’s Borderlands re-visions Re-Visioning Psychology by emphasizing expanded states of awareness, body wisdom, and the spirit world in order to provide a more inclusive vision of the psyche than Hillman puts forth. Thus, the essay demonstrates that Jung—as well as Jung-via-Hillman—contributes more to the hybridity of Anzaldúa’s work than has been previously recognized.


Introduction
In an endnote in Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza (B), Gloria Anzaldúa writes: "According to Jung and James Hillman, 'archetypes' are the presences of gods and goddesses in the psyche. Hillman's book, Re-Visioning Psychology . . . has been instrumental in the development of my thought " (118, n. 6). In fact, Anzaldúa was familiar with passages from C. G. Jung's Collected Works and with at least three of Hillman's books: Re-Visioning Psychology, Healing Fiction, and Dream and the Underworld. There has been previous mention of depth psychology in Anzaldúa studies, but there is a greater role for Jung and especially for Hillman in a reading of Borderlands than has been previously recognized. 1 How do depth-psychological concepts inform Borderlands, and in what ways and to what extent can Re-Visioning Psychology aid interpretation? Multiple hints in Borderlands suggest the impact of Jung on her thinking, and Hillman's book provides a schematic way to understand Anzaldúa's text. Of course, the purpose here is not to deny her breadth of reading but rather, by focusing on Jung and Hillman, to demonstrate her familiarity with Jungian concepts and her text's resonance with Hillman's framework of personifying, pathologizing, psychologizing, and soulmaking or dehumanizing. Demonstrating the role of Jung and Hillman in Anzaldúan hybridity does not require charting other areas' more obvious contributions, and major attempts to do so would be beyond the scope of the present essay. In addition, although many examples of Jungian imbrication can be charted, not all of them can be fully illustrated in this limited space. The aim, however, is to make a suitable beginning by showing both her use of Jungian terminology and concepts as well as her extensive parallels to Hillman, including even a bit of plagiaristic duplication. Ultimately, the essay attempts to show not only Anzaldúa's debt to depth psychology but also her transcendence of its development in Hillman, for ultimately she provides a more inclusive version of the psyche by re-visioning Re-Visioning Psychology through greater attention to expanded states of awareness, body wisdom, and the spirit world.
collective unconscious, and the unus mundus " (111). This unitary world is characterized by what Michael Conforti, writing in Field, Form, and Fate, calls "the indivisibility of psyche and matter " (51), and Anzaldúa would agree, as various statements suggest. For example, "We're supposed to forget that every cell in our bodies, every bone and bird and worm has spirit in it," and "the body is smart" (B 58, 59-60). The reference to Sheldrake, then, points to her awareness that the psychic functioning that she calls la facultad has as its basis what physicist Dean Radin, in his study of psi, calls "field consciousness" or "a continuum of nonlocal intelligence, permeating space and time " (159, 157). Paradoxically, Borderlands, though it looks backward to history and myth, also sets an anchor in the new science. When she speaks of "a deeper sensing," the opening of the depths, a shift in perception, darkness, the underworld, and a vertical plunge to a transrational realm of connections among body, mind, and spirit (B 61), she aligns with the thinking of Sheldrake and affirms the connectedness among the parts of the unus mundus. 3 Therefore, the Sheldrake reference serves as a powerful reminder that Anzaldúa's comments about psi are not the empty platitudes of an unstable New Age experiencer but instead have legitimate scientific underpinnings.
Let us return now to Jungian psychology and sketch the breadth of its incorporation in Anzaldúa's work. Her treatment of the shadow archetype bears out her belief that the unconscious is both personal and collective. She references "what Jung calls the Shadow, the unsavory aspects of ourselves" (B 59), and imagines a "Shadow-Beast" with "lidless serpent eyes" (B 42) that signals the shadow's role in moving us toward wisdom and individuation. Along with shadow and Shadow-Beast, Anzaldúa incorporates the concept of "the positive shadow: hidden aspects of myself and the world" (L 2) to signal that the shadow includes the repressed and the unknown and that this material may be positive or negative as well as personal or collective. As Daryl Sharp confirms, the shadow consists of those "[h]idden or unconscious aspects of oneself, both good and bad, which the ego has either repressed or never recognized" (123; emphasis added). For example, as Aigner-Varoz points out, the Shadow-Beast may represent "forbidden inner knowledge recognized by the 'supra-human,' god-like parts of ourselves" (52). As this range of interpretations suggests, not only does the Shadow-Beast represent "multifaceted internalized oppression" ; in Light in the Dark "shadow beasts" and "collective shadow beasts" are also unacceptable personal and societal tendencies (10, 16). On the one hand, the repressed components of Anzaldúa's personal shadow include rebellious feminism, sexuality (menstrual blood is "the mark of the Beast" [B 64]), class consciousness, at times even her native language and psychic ability, as well as her "numbness, anger, and disillusionment" (L 10). On the other, the collective or national shadow consists of racism, violence, consumerism, injustice, environmental destruction, and action without "compassion or intelligence" (L 2, 10, 16). Given "things older than Freud" and the correspondence between the personal and the collective, it must be that lower-case shadow beasts (the parts: aspects, tendencies, characteristics) participate in the upper-case Shadow-Beast or shadow archetype. It is the shadow archetype, in Jung the potential for representation, that makes shadow characteristics (images, manifestations, metaphors) possible.
The relationship between the unus mundus and the shadow is María DeGuzmán's subject in her work on Anzaldúa's aesthetics. DeGuzmán notes Anzaldúa's association of la facultad with a strand of references to "night, shadows, and various kinds of darkness" (212). The critic then considers "nepantilism [the in-between state experienced by subalterns] in terms of the Shadow and darkness," emphasizing not only the shadow's links to "unrepressed drives and instincts," the physical body, and the intellect (213) but also, more broadly, "The Dark Night of the Body-Mind- Spirit" (216). Although the full Jungian terminology is not present, DeGuzmán is proposing that nigredo-"the mental disorientation that typically arises in the process of assimilating unconscious contents, particular aspects of the shadow" (Sharp 91)-participates in all parts of the unus mundus (the physical world, psyche, and spirit). If nepantilism, la facultad, and the shadow are of individuation all compact, then the "pain, shame, anguish, and sorrow" of nigredo can lead to "strength, energy, and creativity" (DeGuzmán 217). Anzaldúa's point is that the shadow characteristics that we seek to hide from the public become a source of strength once they are acknowledged.
Along with much of Jung's theory of the shadow, Anzaldúa shares his divisions within the psyche and the role of individuation in bringing those parts into the Self. Ego is "the conscious I," which presumably includes "will"/volition (B 72, 88). Persona is "the personality that had been imposed on me" or simply the "mask" (B 38, 96). The phrase "soul (Self)" signals that the Self is her "inner self, the entity that is the sum total of all [her] reincarnations," along with the "interiority of both the human personality and the external world, the anima mundi [sic]" (B 61, 72; L 29). Individuation, or developing "a more whole perspective" by bringing the parts into the Self, begins when "[w]e try to make ourselves conscious of the Shadow-Beast" (B 101, 42). In fact, waking up the Shadow-Beast is the key metaphor for the start of the individuation process because Anzaldúa, like Jung, believes that work with the shadow is individuation's first step. She writes, "When we own our shadow [rather than repressing, projecting, or being unaware of it], we allow the breath of healing to enter our lives" (L 22). She also shares Jung's sense that such personal change may potentially beget societal change (B 109, L 92).
Here is the desired end of the individuation process on the personal scale: "All the lost pieces of myself come flying from the deserts and the mountains and the valleys, magnetized toward that center. Completa" (B 73). On the personal level, her lesbian psyche-her being "two in one body, both male and female"-makes her (in another Jungian formulation) the sacred marriage, the "hieros gamos: the coming together of opposite qualities within" (B 41 More than Jung, however, Anzaldúa has confidence in the reality of El Mundo Zurdo, the Other World (literally the left-handed world), which includes the personal unconscious, the collective unconscious, the dream world, and "the mundis imaginalis" (the imaginal world, which "resides in el cenote") (L 55-56). Accordingly, she challenges the anthropological understanding of participation mystique as merely primitive and suggests that "the world of the imagination-the world of the soul-and of the spirit is just as real as physical reality" (B 59). Access to this Other World is possible via various means, including the writing process, and in her creative work she puts various Jungian tools to productive purpose. As an author, she operates in Jung's visionary mode of composition, meaning that her imagination is a conduit for imagery from the collective unconscious. If imagination is "[t]he ability to spontaneously generate images in the mind," then Jungian active imagination means "allow[ing] the images to speak to you" in a dialogue (L 36, 35). For Anzaldúa, the latter is done via what Davíd Carrasco and Roberto Lint Sagerena call "a shamanic imagination," that is, one that incorporates trance, spiritual journeys, and contact with ancestral spirits (224). She writes, "When I create stories in my head, that is, allow the voices and scenes to be projected in the inner screen of my mind, I 'trance '" (B 91). In such a state, she becomes the "dialogue between [her] Self and el espíritu del mundo [the spirit of the world]" (B 91-92). In this way, her writing, fueled by active imagination, is one of her ways of connecting with El Mundo Zurdo.
The metaphor associated with active imagination is descent or what Jung calls nekyia. According to Light in the Dark, this "lower-world journey" touches the personal or collective unconscious or "a parallel universe" (28). In Borderlands, she states that "we plunge vertically" into the unconscious toward the soul; when Coatlicue first visited, Anzaldúa "'fell' into the underworld"; and she also says that she "descended into mictlán, the underworld" (B 61, 64, 70). These details suggest that she and Jung share a shamanlike exploration of the inner world. Jung even uses a similar directional metaphor to describe his own nekyia: "In order to grasp the fantasies which were stirring in me 'underground,' I knew that I had to let myself plummet down into them, as it were. . . . Then I let myself drop. Suddenly it was as though the ground literally gave way beneath my feet, and I plunged down into dark depths" (MDR 178-79; emphases added). Light in the Dark sums up both her own experience and Jung's: "A lower-world journey may be viewed as contacting the personal or collective unconscious or as an excursion into a parallel universe" (28). The statement affirms both the underworld within and the Other World without, which are accessed through vision and near-death experience, respectively. Examples of both appear in Jung's autobiography Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Anzaldúa's poem, which begins "Dead, / the doctor by the operating table said," is a fine rendering of one of her own NDEs (B 56-57).
In MDR, Jung also discusses the distinction between his No. 1 and No. 2 personalities: his conscious, rational, persona-driven, time-bound personality versus a more ancient strand that is in touch with the collective unconscious. This distinction parallels Anzaldúa's distinction between the masculine eagle and the feminine snake: "The eagle symbolizes the spirit (as the sun, the father); the serpent symbolizes the soul (as the earth, the mother)" (B 27). 4 In a more sweeping statement that affirms El Mundo Zurdo, she notes, "Not only was the brain split into two functions but so was reality" (B 59). Also, in a section on the divine principle within us, Anzaldúa implies her dedication to the "other mode" of consciousness, the serpent side, Jung's No. 2 personality, by writing, "I've always been aware that there is a greater power than the conscious I" (B 72). The section where she says this is entitled "That Which Abides," but she also means "That Witch Abides": namely, the No. 2 personality that she cannot be talked out of by the rational white male superego-driven religious/scientific establishment because, among other reasons, it is important to humanity's long-term survival. Although she notes at one point an unbridgeable gap between "the loquacious rational eye" and "the tongueless magical eye" (tongueless because it speaks in images) (B 67), the two must be in relationship so that the deeper psyche tempers the conscious tendency toward environmental degradation and other ills. If "the left hand, that of darkness, of femaleness, of 'primitiveness,' can divert the indifferent, right-handed, 'rational' suicidal drive" (B 91), then mestiza consciousness, "a holistic, both/and way of thinking and acting," arises (Keating and Gonzáles-Lopez, " Glossary" 243). The point is in sync with the holism of Jung's own environmental vision. "What is needed," he states, "is to call a halt to the fatal dissociation that exists between man's higher and lower being; instead, we must unite conscious man and primitive man" (Jung Speaking 397;qtd. in Sabini 146).
In summary, Anzaldúa adopts and sometimes adapts the following Jungian theories: the archetypes, the collective unconscious, the shadow, the idea that shadow work is the first stage in the individuation process, ego and persona, the notion of the Self as wholeness, the hieros gamos, participation mystique, the unus mundus, the visionary mode of literary composition, active imagination, nekyia, and Jung's No. 1 and No. 2 personalities. Pinning down what was actual influence and what was common ground arrived at independently is beyond the scope of this study, but it should be clear by now that a demonstration of the role of Jungian terminology and concepts enhances our understanding depth psychology's role in the hybridity of Borderlands.

Anzaldúa and Hillman's Re-Visioning Psychology
Clearly there is much in common between Anzaldúan thought and Jungian psychology-some of it no doubt directly borrowed, some probably arrived at independently. But how are we to understand her own statement that Hillman's Re-Visioning Psychology was a great influence on her thinking in Borderlands? How, in particular, do his four imperatives inform a reading of Borderlands? To begin with, Re-Visioning Psychology attempts to correct what Hillman considers impediments to depth psychology, many of which Anzaldúa would also oppose. These include anthropocentrism, dualism, egocentrism, literalism, oversimplification, positivism, reason's domination of emotion, scientific materialism, and especially the assumption that the imaginal realm is unreal. Hillman's response to these intellectual errors is to encourage us to examine the archetypes from multiple points of view. "Ultimately," he writes, "we shall admit that archetypal psychology is theophanic: personifying, pathologizing, psychologizing, and soul-making or dehumanizing are the modes of polytheizing, the means of revealing Gods [sic] in a pluralistic universe" (228). Personifying generates images to represent archetypes, pathologizing recognizes the images' negative content, psychologizing unpacks the ideas imbedded in the images, and dehumanizing or soul-making relates the images to mythical patterns. In simpler terms, images from the unconscious support individuation when they are subject to the agency of emotion, intellect, and myth.
Personifying. Hillman defines personifying as "the basic psychological activitythe spontaneous experiencing, envisioning and speaking of the configurations of existence as psychic presences" (12; emphasis in the original). More simply, personifying is the generation of images to represent archetypes, and for Anzaldúa these images are native rather than European. She writes, "Let's stop importing Greek myths and the Western Cartesian split point of view and root ourselves in the mythological soil and soul of this continent" (B 90). Of course, Hillman does not favor binary oppositions or unbalanced dualities; the key point is rather that Anzaldúa hybridizes Hillman's system and her own native tradition. Instead of embracing the colonizing impulse to employ Western tradition, she uses native mythical female figures to personify archetypal forces that come together in the individuation process. Her legendary females share the archetypal/mythical resonance of the Greek gods in Hillman's chapter 4 on dehumanizing/soul-making. Yet these new-world figures are part of the personifying process because of a related image, the serpent, which represents the repressed lefthanded forces that have languished under Western rationality and Cartesian dualism.
Anzaldúa's main mythological personifications are as follows (B 49-50). Coatlicue, the serpent goddess or "Serpent Skirt," is the "creator goddess" and the mother of various children, including a daughter, Coyolxauhqui, and a son, Huitzilopochtli, who decapitates his sister. Also descended from Coatlicue is Coatlalopeuh, which is the Indian name for Guadalupe (the Virgin Mary). Mary is Guadalupe, and Guadalupe is Coatlalopeuh. Like her mother, Coatlalopeuh ("'she who crushed the serpent'" [B 51]) links etymologically to the key image. Under "male-dominated Azteca-Mexica culture" (B 49) female deities were split into a virgin-whore binary. On the one hand, Guadalupe is associated with the Aztec goddess Tonantsi (the good mother), and la Llorona (mourner of her lost children). On the other, the darker feminine aspects are personified by Coatlicue; two Azetec fertility goddesses, Tlazolteotl and Cihuacoatl; and la Chingada, the fucked one. To counter this dichotomy, Anzaldúa emphasizes that "Coatlicue-Cihuacoatl-Tlazolteotl-Tonantzin-Coatlalopeuh-Guadalupe . . . are one" (B 72; emphases in the original). She specifically identifies Coatlicue as an image or archetype (B 68), but all of these female figures are archetypal in nature. They are "subpersonalities" or "imaginal figures (archetypes) of the inner world" (L 3, 7), which appear to be separate in the physical world but participate in wholeness at a deeper level. Anzaldúa attempts to bring that unity into manifestation by healing the false dichotomy. It is true, as Norma Alarcón states, that these "polyvalent name insertions in Borderlands are a rewriting of the feminine, a reinscription of gynetics" (48). But more specifically, Anzaldúa is dividing the female archetype as Jung divides the anima in identifying the Kore (maiden, matron, and crone) and the stages of eroticism (Mary, Helen, Eve, Sophia). For Jung, each personification signifies a different aspect of men's experience of their inner feminine and provides an imaginal link to the depths where distinctions disappear. It is the corresponding fragmentary components of women's experience that Anzaldúa attempts to unify and heal within her own psyche and within her readers' psyches.
Pathologizing. Much as Hillman suggests that fictions inhabit the realm of soul between nature (science, sense perception) and spirit (metaphysics, intellect) (152), Anzaldúa holds that images bridge "emotion and conscious knowledge" and are closer than words are to the unconscious (B 91). The content that those images embody and convey leads on to Hillman's pathologizing, "the psyche's autonomous ability to create illness, morbidity, disorder, abnormality, and suffering in any aspect of its behavior and to experience and imagine life through this deformed and afflicted perspective" (57). In short, pathologizing is shadow work-"learning through what is deviant, odd, off in oneself" (163). Anzaldúa's equivalent involves taking a stand against what W. E. B. Du Bois calls "double consciousness" or seeing oneself negatively through the eyes of the dominant culture. Du Bois calls it a "sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity" (11). Double consciousness involves internalizing the cultural shadow by accepting "[d]eviance [as] whatever is condemned by the community" (B 40). Hillman and Anzaldúa are alike in emphasizing the need to integrate the parts of the psyche that society condemns. Hillman suggests, for example, that pathologizing breaks one free from sole identification with the ego's "external standards " and "upperworld" influences (89); and Anzaldúa insists that Chicanas must "no longer blame [the oppressors], nor disown the white parts, the male parts, the pathological parts, the queer parts, the vulnerable parts" (B 110; emphasis added). Thus, contrary to Theresa A. Martinez's suggestion that Du Boisian double consciousness and Anzaldúan mestiza consciousness describe "interlocking systems of oppression" and share an oppositional nature (159, 162), mestiza consciousness emerges in the context of pathologizing as a proper medium for healing the negative emotional effects of double consciousness.
What is the nature of the pathologizing or shadow work that Anzaldúa advocates? Her reactionary intention is to engage with an ancient way of thinking that can help renew women in the present by rebalancing dualities. In Borderlands the serpent and the eagle are the images that represent the fundamental split within the human experience that needs to be healed: the division between our animal bodies and faculties that reflect the divine. About that division Anzaldúa states, "Humans fear the supernatural, both the undivine (the animal impulses such as sexuality, the unconscious, the unknown, the alien) and the divine (the superhuman, the god in us). Culture and religion seek to protect us from these two forces" (B 39). The statement reflects Chicanas' repression both in body and in their more spiritual nature. Regarding "the undivine," there is "Cihuacoatl, Serpent Woman, ancient Aztec goddess of the earth, of war and birth, patron of midwives, and antecedent of la Llorona" (B 57). She and other snake-women suggest that reconnecting with the animal body-versus the literal separation of mind and body in the decapitation of Coyolxauhqui-is fundamental to women's individuation.
Society also wants us to think in binaries about "the divine" aspects of the human condition, or psychic functioning (la facultad), which is often mediated by the body ("the body is smart" [B 59-60]). Jungian analyst Jerome S. Bernstein notes in Living in the Borderland: The Evolution of Consciousness and the Challenge of Healing Trauma (a title that Anzaldúa may, in part, have inspired) that Western society pathologizes experiences of the transrational (xvi), but Anzaldúa specifically identifies the culprit that marginalizes "the supra-human, the god in ourselves": "Institutionalized religion fears trafficking with the spirit world and stigmatizes it as witchcraft" (B 59). Since Catholicism and Protestantism have repressed both the body and the psychic experiences that filter through it, Anzaldúa attempts to counter their dualistic repression in herself, in Chicanas more generally, and even in the white oppressor by advocating "esta facultad [this faculty], a realm of consciousness reached only from an 'attached' mode (rather than a distant, separate unattached, mode), enabling us to weave a kinship entre todas las gentes y cosas [between all people and things]" (L 83). Anzaldúa's emphasis on psychic experiences in the section on la facultad is a key element in her spiritual activism: sharing the reality of her psychic sensitivity through her work so that others may feel validated in their own abilities and in the value and unity of body, mind, and spirit. That is Anzaldúa's purpose in describing her psychic experiences. As Irena Lara puts it in her study of the bruja (witch) in Chicano spirituality, "Striving to see from a holistic perspective and bridge the spiritual with the physical world, la Bruja models such holistic vision for us" ("Bruja Positionalities" 25). Certainly, as Carrasco and Sagarena assert, Anzaldúa's experiences are not reducible to locura (madness, pathology) (234).
Violence of various sorts is a further object of pathologizing in Borderlands. There is the figurative violence done by Anzaldúa's school teachers and professors against her racial/cultural identity, her native language, her Mexican accent, and her interest in Chicano literature. Accounts of reprimands and opposition by teachers at all educational levels are among the most heartfelt, particularly in chapter 5, "How to Tame a Wild Tongue." Others tried to force what was dear to her into the shadow, but these factors are brought to light in the text so that their energy contributes to her individuation instead of fueling her double consciousness. However, it is the literal violence that most engages the author in the image-making and pathologizing processes. Chicano women and men are subject to violence in the form of rape and lynching, respectively (B 25, 30). Similarly, Hillman writes, "Mythology, without its pathological side of animal monsters, cruel slayings, perverse arrangements, wanton rapes, ruinous penances, no longer touches the passions or speaks of and to the individual soul in its distress." Regarding Renaissance pathologizing, he also notes that "[s]tatistically favored themes in art were seduction, rape, and drunkenness" (8,203; emphases added).
The images of rape and lynching come together in the second half of Borderlands in a poem called "We Call Them Greasers" (156-57), told from the point of view of a white rancher who, in a colonizing move, kicks Chicano squatters off his newly acquired land by threatening back taxes that they cannot afford to pay. Although most are properly deferential, the speaker disdains their lack of ambition, cowardice, inability to speak English, and Indian eyes. Most of the Chicanos depart without even an objection about their lost cattle, which the speaker's men have frightened off in the night, probably so that he can later add them to his own herd. A few troublemakers, however, try legal action and have to be burned out of their homes. He remembers one woman "in particular" whom he rapes ("She lay under me whimpering") and then murders ("I sat on her face until / her arms stopped flailing") while "her man" watches while tied to a nearby tree. The narrator concludes, "Lynch him, I told the boys. " "We Call Them Greasers" is in sync with a feminist anthropological approach because it dramatizes the way in which maintenance of binary oppositions like landowner/squatter and Caucasian/Chicana(o) violates human rights and deepens social injustice. The rape of the squatter woman is of grave concern, especially to a feminist like Anzaldúa who puts great emphasis on the body in the mind-body-spirit nexus and who would agree with Irene Lara and Elisa Facio that "to flesh the spirit and spirit the flesh heals" (11; emphasis added). Such violence against women and men as the poem dramatizes represents on a small scale the violence that characterized the takeover of formerly Mexican territories by the United States in the 19th century. The existence of poor, property-less workers illustrates one of the consequences of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo (1848), in which Mexico gave up parts of six American states, resulting in disadvantage for Mexicans who remained within the newly drawn American border. In other words, a small-scale event allegorizes a much greater injustice perpetrated by the United States in an earlier era. Now the squatters, who are without rights on land that once belonged to their Mexican ancestors must move on to another marginalized situation that perpetuates unequal caste relations. Their culture and people endure within US borders along with their economic and political disadvantage. Yet there are glimmers of hope to be noted in the poem. Apparently, the workers are American citizens because the speaker states, "Some even had land grants / and appealed to the courts," which an undocumented person would be loath to do for fear of deportation. Their attempt at legal recourse, though futile and short lived because it lacks the political might of César Chávez's United Farm Workers of America, is emblematic of that greater, more organized movement, which did, over time and with great difficulty, achieve positive results. 5 Also, the act of resistance, of speaking out, that the poem registers is more fully realized by Anzaldúa in Borderlands, which reveals various injustices to a wide audience. The poem is particularly significant because it portrays situations that Anzaldúa must have seen as the daughter of share croppers. As Leni M. Silverstein and Ellen Lewin point out, feminist anthropology includes personal statements that break down the binaries of "'insider/outsider '" and "informant/anthropologist" (13).
The poem also dramatizes Hillman's definition of pathologizing. The Chicanos experience "morbidity, disorder, abnormality, and suffering," and Hillman's phrase "deformed and afflicted perspective" applies to both the Chicanos and the rancher (Hillman 57). There is pathologizing on both sides of the power binary. "Greasers" portrays double consciousness on the part of the subaltern Chicanos, especially those who are deferential and leave without incident; the postcolonial impulse of those who challenge the eviction; and the hegemonic voice of the narrator. Thus, the narrative provides a modern-day allegory of the colonization of the new world by Europeans and the suppression of native peoples, Anzaldúa's subject in chapter 1, where she discusses the US-Mexican War, lynchings, racism, economic disadvantage, and refugees, among other subjects. Including the poem is part of the pathologizing process of bringing to light and into wholeness such dire aspects of the prevailing Chicana(o) experience.
Psychologizing or Seeing Through. An archetype is "a set of ideas" (Hillman 130; emphasis in the original); therefore, archetypal images and associated lived experiences, although they may be negative and require pathologizing, also lead to "psychological ideas . . . those that engender the soul's reflection upon its nature, structure, and purpose " (117) and that enable us to see through the literal to the metaphorical. Hillman's process proceeds from images (personifying) through pathos (pathologizing) to Logos (psychologizing), which shares with la facultad "the capacity to see in surface phenomena the meaning of deeper realities" (B 60). This "psychologizing may take many paths," including several that Anzaldúa employs-"historical examination," "linguistic analysis," and art/poetry . The key idea that emerges from her work is the Borderlands with its attendant mestiza consciousness. But in reflecting upon the psyche's "nature, structure, and purpose" she builds into Borderlands reflections of a system that corresponds in significant ways to some components of Jungian individuation and bears out Jung's idea that inner change sparks outer engagement (the essential components of Anzaldúan spiritual activism). That system enables one to understand Borderlands as a manifestation of the author's impulse toward individuation.
Anzaldúa's "overarching theory of consciousness" ("Quincentennial" 177) is called conocimiento (literally knowledge), and it is a "transformation process" (L17) with seven stages. As the serpent's sinuous coils suggest, these stages are nonlinear and recursive in actual lived practice, but they are described below in the order of their (numbered) appearance in chapter 6 of Light in the Dark.
 Stage one, el arrebato (literally the outburst), involves fragmentation, rupture, disconnection, and disconocimiento (ignorance). The decapitated Coyolxauhqui is a relevant image, as are the virgin-whore split within the feminine and the use of multiple native figures to represent aspects of the Chicana experience. Double consciousness also illustrates this stage, with Anzaldúa's childhood experiences of discrimination as powerful illustrations.  Stage two is the liminal state of nepantla where transformation begins via the experience of multiple perspectives and the collapsing or bridging of binaries, which is why it is "a syncretistic faculty" (L 114) that bears positive fruit. At this point, Anzaldúa states, "According to Jung, if you hold opposites long enough without taking sides, a new identity emerges" (L 127). As Jung points out in a similar statement, "We are crucified between the opposites and delivered up to the torture until the 'reconciling third' takes shape" (Letters 375). Liminal states-her near-death and psychic experiences, along with her use of active imaginationare examples of nepantla. Of course, nepantla's in-between nature also characterizes various Borderland states-cultural, linguistic, physical, spiritual, and sexual.  In stage three, the Coatlicue state (B, chapter 4), resistance to new knowledge and to other changes generates various emotions such as depression "Glossary" 242). "In the Coatlicue state . . . you're caged in a private hell; you feel angry, fearful, hopeless, and depressed, blaming yourself as inadequate" (L 150). The Coatlicue state, like Jungian nigredo, is a dark night of the soul. There is also a close correspondence between the Coatlicue state and Hillman's pathologizing, especially with regard to the despair of illegal immigrants in chapter 1 and of the Chicanos in "Greasers."  Stage four, el compromiso (literally the commitment), is a call to action. One leaves old ways behind, generates new knowledge, and begins the reconstruction process. Here one imagines a young Anzaldúa beginning to find her academic voice and to carve out her place in literary studies.  Stage five is called putting Coyolxauhqui together because "[h]er round disk (circle)," as in Jung, "represents the self's striving for wholeness and cohesiveness" (L 89). This stone disk depicts her decapitation, but its roundness symbolizes wholeness and individuation, like the moon with which she is also associated. A person in stage five actively engages in positive transformation, recreation, and self-analysis. New personal and collective stories are created, and binaries are collapsed. Writing Borderlands, for example, is one way Anzaldúa puts Coyolxauhqui together, particularly given the author's attempt to collapse binaries such as Mexican and American in the Borderlands.
 Stage six is a clash of realities as one moves from interiority to social space by sharing new stories and adjusting them according to feedback. Whereas stage one is characterized by desconocimientos (unknowns), stage six involves conocimiento (knowledge), in particular a less dualistic and "more holistic perspective" (L 146). By this point, individuation has shifted from interiority to social engagement.  The seventh and final stage is spiritual activism-helping others to achieve their own transformation and social emergence. As in depth psychology, inner change leads to change in society. Here one locates the mature Anzaldúa: author, speaker, spirit warrior. So whereas Hillman's psychologizing means examining archetypes-as-ideas, Anzaldúa's conocimiento, an alternative (and more detailed) anatomy of the individuation process, includes brokenness, altered states, confrontation with the unconscious, and transformation in the individual and the community. Also, numerous segments of the conocimiento process are relatable to details in Borderlands and to the author's own psychological journey.
Dehumanizing or Soul-making. The more holistic perspective that conocimiento urges is central to what Hillman means by dehumanizing or soul-making. The final section of Re-Visioning Psychology first addresses impediments, starting with "the singleness of vision of monotheistic consciousness" that makes the devil the carrier of our shadow, just as Hillman earlier objects to making the crucifixion of Jesus a container for pathologizing (225,95). In addition, he specifically eschews "dualism" and sees dualities as different faces of a unity (170), much as Anzaldúa favors the restoration of "balanced dualities" (B 55) and understands the unity of all that is. For Hillman, the trouble is that "[r]eligion in our culture derives from spirit [eagle] rather than from soul [serpent], and so our culture does not have a religion that reflects psychology or is mainly concerned with soul-making" (168). 6 If the problem is that "institutionalized religion" promotes "singleness of meaning" (158) and if, as Anzaldúa asserts, it favors spirit over soul, "encourage[s] us to kill off parts of ourselves," wants us to think "that the body is an ignorant animal, " and "impoverish[es] all life, beauty, pleasure" (B 59), then the solution is to invoke a tradition with a wider range of signification-the Greek gods for Hillman, native figures for Anzaldúa.
What, then, of the soul? For Hillman, "soul is imagination" (69; emphasis in the original); and "the place of soul [is] a world of imagination, passion, fantasy, reflection, [which] is neither physical and material on the one hand, nor spiritual and abstract on the other, yet bound to them both" (68)-a description that calls to mind the in-between state of nepantla. For Hillman, then, soul-making, another term for "the process of individuation" (188), means shifting focus (dehumanizing or de-egoizing) to recognize that images from the unconscious and personal experiences reflect mythic and archetypal patterns personified by the Greek gods (and corresponding native figures in Anzaldúa). Image-making and our symptoms are thus the "via regia" to soul-making (23, 75), a phrase that Anzaldúa upgrades by stating that "along with dreams your body is the royal road to consciousness" (L 138; emphases added). The echo's implication is that conocimiento is a more embodied process than Hillman's soul-making.
Hillman's chapter on soul-making/dehumanizing left such a deep impression on Anzaldúa that she mentioned it in her interview with Linda Smuckler: About two or three years ago I was reading James Hillman, who's one of my favorites. . . . I was reading Re-Visioning Psychology and he was talking about how monotheism-the concept of the one god-is very elitist. He says that there's a plurality of things. He called it the "Gloria Duplex." But he got it from another source, from the Latin. It's the point of view of looking at things from different perspectives. (37) What she remembered from Re-Visioning Psychology made its way into another comment: "The notion that the gods are forces and potencies within the human mind and that humans have, at the deepest levels of the mind, personifications of the great archetypal experiences is the current theory-more 'rational' than the belief that spirits are real" (L 37). While affirming Hillman's theory of dehumanizing, Anzaldúa pushes off from it by mentioning the spirit world, which does not figure prominently in his thought. Another reflection of Hillman's influence on Anzaldúa appears in Borderlands. He speaks of " [a] mythologizing that prefers many perspectives to operational definitions, a psychologizing that asks Who? and What? rather than How? and Why?-a personifying that subjectifies" (169; emphases in the original). Anzaldúa echoes him in stating: "Instead, the work has an identity; it is a 'who' or a 'what' and contains the presences of persons, that is, incarnations of gods or ancestors or natural and cosmic powers" (B 89). Her statement duplicates not only Hillman's ideas but also his language, but problematically there is no signal phrase or end note to indicate attribution. At the very least, Anzaldúa found in Hillman's Re-Visioning Psychology much that corresponded to her own ideas, but her own statement and various echoes indicate a shaping effect. Some aspects of his personifying, pathologizing, psychologizing, and dehumanizing or soulmaking became internalized as her own.
Thus, re-visioning Borderlands through Hillman's fourfold lens not only provides waypoints to orient the reader but also underscores a sense of Anzaldúa's indebtedness to depth psychology. Despite this strong influence, however, it would be problematic to see Anzaldúan thought as Hillman's four imperatives reiterated in a Chicano context. They can help structure an analysis of the difficult and disparate material in Borderlands, but Anzaldúa did not consider Re-Visioning Psychology as a template for her own project. Indeed, she is generally praised for her originality. Keating states that three of Anzaldúa's concepts-Borderlands, the new mestiza, and mestiza consciousness-"broke new ground and merit the attention they've received" ("Introduction: shifting" 4). For Walter Mignolo, Anzaldúa's "great theoretical contribution is to create a space-in-between from where to think rather than a hybrid space to talk about" (qtd. in Carrasco and Sagarena 223; emphases in the original). As for Borderlands itself, Harold A. Torres considers it a "masterpiece" (124), and Library Journal acknowledged it as one of the best books of 1987 (Pinkvoss 16). But Anzaldúa's project also incorporates what has come before. As Julia Alvarez suggests, the "borderland state of mind" resembles John Keats's negative capability (234); and Jung's concept of coniunctio-a synthesis of opposites that begets new possibilities-also hovers in the background of Anzaldúa's key concepts, Borderlands and mestiza consciousness.

In light of Anzaldúa's interest in Hillman, Borderlands illustrates what Harold
Bloom calls tessera, a term he borrows from Jacques Lacan, which represents "any later [writer's] attempt to persuade himself (and us) that the precursor's Word would be worn out if not redeemed as a newly fulfilled and enlarged Word of the ephebe [present author]" (67). Anzaldúa's native female figures, for example, replace Hillman's Greek gods. Borderlands consciousness and the hybridity that emerges from such a state-not a combination of binaries but a new third thing-are also not found in Hillman. She is more open than Hillman to the roles played by the body, psychic functioning, and the spirit world in individuation/conocimiento. Along those lines, the implication of the unus mundus, that "[n]othing is separate" (Anzaldúa,"Creativity" 106), is an aspect of Borderlands consciousness that has no clear parallel in Re-Visioning Psychology, which shies away from the spirit world. Not only is the unus mundus the assumption that underlies the ideas in Borderlands, but it is also enacted in the author's montage style, the literary equivalent of hybridity: a mixture of frames of reference, subjects, genres, languages, and styles. Guadalupe personifies hybridity-is herself a kind of montagebecause she provides "a synthesis of the old world and the new, of the religion and culture of the two races in our psyche, the conquerors and the conquered" (B 52). As the etymology of the author's last name suggests, she herself is a Guadalupe figure who brings dualities together. Anzaldúa "is a Basque name, where 'an' means above, the upper worlds, the sky, the spirit [eagle]; 'zal' means the underworld, the world of the soul, of images, of fantasy [serpent]; and 'dúa' is the bridging of the two; and the bridge, to me, is the interface" ("Creativity" 103). "I span abysses," she states in "La Prieta" (209).

Conclusion
In a similar way, this essay bridges Borderlands and theories from Jung and Hillman in order to deepen the case for depth psychology's contribution to Anzaldúan hybridity. A reading of her relationship to Re-Visioning Psychology may receive one further gloss via through the story of Juan Diego and the Virgin Mary in chapter 3, "Entering Into the Serpent" (B 50). The story also functions as a parable of Anzaldúan spiritual activism. A fuller version, including Juan Diego's several trips to the skeptical bishop named Juan de Zumárrago, is written by Luis Lasso de la Vega. Here is a summary of that version: According to Mexican tradition, a dark-skinned woman, dressed in pink with a turquoise veil, appeared at Tepeyac [sic], north of Mexico City, in 1531 to indigenous Juan Diego. She sent the reluctant Juan to ask the bishop to build a temple in her honor, but his requests were denied. When Juan avoided Guadalupe because his uncle [Juan Bernardino] was dying, she appeared and told him not to be afraid because his uncle was cured. As a sign, she gave him roses, which he took to the bishop in his tilma (tunic). When he displayed the flowers, her image appeared on his tilma. In response, the bishop built a chapel honoring Guadalupe. The Spaniards, unable to understand the indigenous name for the woman, called her "Guadalupe." The title "Our Lady of Guadalupe" designates her as an appearance of the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus. (" Guadalupe") Juan Diego, who shuttles back and forth between Tepeyác (also called Guadalupe) and the bishop's location, acts as a bridge and signifies nepantla. Through his in-between agency, binaries meet and start to interact: upper and lower classes, city and country, male and female, human and divine, the bishop's intellect (eagle) and the virgin mother's several numinous appearances as well as her miraculous cure of Juan's dying uncle (serpent). The roses, which Juan harvests in cold weather on rocky ground in the poem, thorny ground in de la Vega's account, provide the miraculous sign (the image) that the bishop needs in order to believe that Juan Diego has indeed seen the mother of God. Because the bishop recognizes the roses, the Virgin's portrait, and Juan Bernardino's renewed health as physical evidence of divine agency, he finally accedes to the virgin mother's wish that a temple be built in her honor. 7 Anzaldúa speaks of "a third element which is greater than the sum of its severed parts [and which] is [or reflects] a new consciousness-a mestiza consciousness" (B 101-02). In the Juan Deigo story, the temple is a new third thing that is greater than the sum of the opposites it unites, where worshipers will practice a Catholic faith renewed by the Church's recognition of one man's numinous experience. The binaries of personal experience and religious institution, once opposed, now validate each other in the spirit of Anzaldúa's wish that we "see through serpent and eagle eyes" (B 100-01; emphasis added). Further, the Guadalupe story illustrates Anzaldúa's spiritual activism, in which inner change (Juan's inner response to his numinous experiences) enables outer action leading to change in society (the bishop's agreement to build a new place of worship), as well as the placement of oppositions in a holistic perspective. 8 Likewise, the new house of worship, Guadalupe herself, and Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza are all monuments to-that is, they illustrate and enhance-the hybridity and the holistic Borderlands/mestiza consciousness that Anzaldúa seeks to bring about by advocating a more fully cultural and spiritual nexus than Hillman sets out. He, like the bishop, is an intellectual authority; but like Juan Diego, Anzaldúa and her text embody and enact the change that she seeks to inspire in her readers. By mediating between opposites, she creates a new third thing-Borderlands, the text-that acknowledges but transcends binary points of view. The story of Juan Diego, then, is an allegory of Anzaldúa's larger project, for Borderlands re-visions and reworks Jungian thought and Hillman's Re-Visioning Psychology by putting greater emphasis on the connections among matter, psyche, and spirit; providing a corrective for white/Western culture's skeptical rationalism; elevating the less-privileged; and depicting a hybrid whole that transcends its component parts. Notes 1 For example, Norma Alarcón mentions "Jungian psychoanthropology" in her discussion of the Shadow-Beast, which she identifies as "polyvalent" and as related to qualities such