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Jodahs is the novel’s protagonist and fulfills the archetypes of the outsider, the exile, and the mediator by exploring the complexities of belonging and identity formation. As an unexpected and unpredictable ooloi construct, Jodahs begins the novel as an outsider whose newness is perceived as a potential threat. Jodahs’s first-person perspective offers critical insights into both the Oankali’s and humans’ failure to accept difference. From Jodahs’s point of view, its outsider status is not due to it being an “accident” or a “devil,” but due to each species’ acts of Othering. The Oankali cannot accept Jodahs’s newness without wanting to control it, and the humans’ hatred is rooted in a xenophobic drive to keep their species “pure.” As an outsider, Jodahs challenges normalized assumptions about human and Oankali identity and represents a necessary break in the status quo. In doing so, Jodahs catalyzes the need for change and the potential for improved relations between the species.
As a figure of exile, Jodahs represents the loss of home and the desire for belonging. In many ways, Jodahs’s experiences resemble the ways humans have been internally displaced on Earth or exiled on Mars. Like humans, Jodahs is in search of a home. Yet, just as its outsider status offers Jodahs a critical perspective, it also offers a complex negotiation of what it means to belong. For Jodahs, a sense of belonging is not solely about a return to one’s origins or an essentialized past, as the humans wish it. Jodahs explains to its siblings that the homeship is a place it would visit, but the ship is not its home: “People go there to absorb more of our past sometimes. I wouldn’t mind that. But I can’t live there” (90). Jodahs represents a diasporic sensibility of “becoming,” to borrow cultural theorist Stuart Hall’s concept of cultural identity. The Oankali are a nomadic species with a fundamental drive to merge with diverse forms of life. Home is not where one maintains a static place and identity, but rather, a site of transformations.
By the end of the novel, Jodahs transforms into a figure of mediation and fluid identity. As a non-binary third-sex ooloi construct and a shapeshifter, Jodahs challenges the stark binary of sex, gender, and sexuality and humanity’s hierarchical social organization. After one of its trips in the forest, Jodahs tells its siblings, “My body wanders. Even when I come home, it wants to go on wandering. […] Changing doesn’t bother me anymore. […] At least, not this kind of deliberate, controlled changing. I wish it didn’t bother other people” (89-90). Having accepted who it is in Part 2, Jodahs spends Part 3 successfully advocating for its right to exist and reproduce with willing mates to construct a new species. Jodahs’s role as a mediator moves beyond the binary of Oankali versus human relations and incorporates the diversity of lifeforms stored in its yashi and the symbiotic ecology between the land, the living town, and their new community.
Jesusa is one of Jodahs’s mates and is the central human character who drives the rising action. Jesusa transforms from a devoted resister to one of Jodahs’s staunch allies, and her shift in perspective foreshadows the larger change in her village and their subsequent acceptance of the Oankali. Jesusa is a figure of loyalty, empathy, and transformation, and her character offers an analysis of colonialism through the lens of Latino feminism.
Jesusa is a double of Lilith and shares her experience of embarking on a new relationship with the Oankali with a mixture of fear and fascination. Both women represent a feminist revision of the misogynist trope of La Malinche, a reference to the Indigenous woman who was an interpreter for Hernán Cortés and whose name became an epithet for a “race traitor.” Lilith tells Jesusa her personal story of being a scapegoat for a century, highlighting the importance of female agency and self-representation. Jesusa learns that Lilith’s story is not one of betrayal, but survival and resilience. Jesusa reevaluates her staunch refusal to be deemed a traitor by her people and realizes that the epithet also represents a challenge to the patriarchal authority of her village. Jesusa admits, “We’ve already betrayed our people […] We did that with you, Jodahs” (163). Jesusa comes to a new understanding that the concept of betrayal has been used as a form of policing. For Jesusa, “betraying” the village’s insular traditions means having agency over one’s body and life.
Jesusa also represents empathy and transformation, as her choice to protect Aaor and stay with Jodahs demonstrates her shared values with the Oankali to cherish the diversity of life. Jesusa has seen enough death in her village and connects her people’s right to live with Aaor’s. Witnessing Aaor’s impending dissolution, she tells Jodahs, “We know more about dying than you do. […] And, I tell you, I know death when I see it” (161). Jesusa does not make a hierarchical distinction between whose life is worthier, humans or the Oankali, and highlights humanity’s capacity for compassion.
As a descendent of the First Mother, who was of Mexican heritage, Jesusa also inherits Gloria Anzaldua’s concept of “mestiza consciousness,” which empowers feminist and postcolonial subjectivities. The mestiza, a woman of Indigenous and European ancestry, breaks rigid binaries of race, gender, and sexuality to propose inclusivity and a “tolerance for ambiguity” (Anzaldua, Glora. “Towards a New Consciousness.” Borderlands/La Frontera, 1987). Jesusa’s decision to join Jodahs and form a new species literalizes Anzaldua’s metaphor of an “‘alien’ consciousness” that emerges from “racial, ideological, cultural, and biological cross-pollination” (Anzaldua, 99). Jesusa, like Lilith, represents a post-humanist subjectivity that does not erase race and gender but highlights the histories and complex negotiations of women of color and colonialism.
Nikanj is Jodahs’s ooloi parent and a figure of wisdom, tolerance, and guidance. Nikanj appears in all three books of the trilogy and identifies most closely with Jodahs’s experiences of being reviled by humans but also desiring to bond with them. Nikanj fulfills the archetype of the teacher and wise elder and is the antithesis of the village elders who hold the most extreme vitriol against the Oankali and any humans who ally with them. As a literal repository of biodiversity, Nikanj reassures Jodahs of its new identity and supports its child’s development. Nikanj teaches Jodahs how to use its skills and asserts, “You’re healthy […] Your development is exactly right. I can’t find any flaw in you” (17). Nikanj provides a view into the Oankali family structure as a social unit of acceptance and security.
Nikanj also demonstrates how the Oankali are neither perfect nor unfeeling. Nikanj admits that it was “careless” in constructing Jodahs and had repressed its loneliness and longing for an ooloi child to bond with. Jodahs understands the depth of its parent’s unhappiness and remarks, “You were always lonely […] You had mates and children, but to me, you always tasted…empty in some way—as though you were hungry, almost starving” (17). Nikanj demonstrates that the Oankali have also made sacrifices and compromises in the gene trade and have not simply taken advantage of humans without enduring their own experiences of loss.
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By Octavia E. Butler