The Devil Woman.

A white-garbed classy lady 🤍

Oct 01, 2024

The first in this series for Folklore Month 2024 is on the La Diablesse—the seductress in white, the avenger, the reckoning, the embodiment of womens’ rage.

Every Tuesday in October, I will be sharing some content from Tales of Root, Silk & Bone, along with my own thoughts & experiences.

Tales of Root, Silk & Bone is a collaborative book on Trinidad history, culture, and folklore—curated by me. I gathered stories, art, poetry, photography, and experiences of people from the hills of Paramin to the coasts of Moruga to connect those who came before us to those who will be here after we leave—because these stories are important to keep alive.

I really considered which folktale I wanted to start this series off with, and honestly, what determined it for me was this piece of artwork by Sali:

Shero is a woman I wish to become. She came out of my imagination as I contemplated on the female as one who has power and beauty. Shero is also a woman who is challenged by her own mind but is strong enough to win all her internal battles.
—SALI

I remember seeing this piece in Sali’s artroom in Grande Riviere and I was captivated. And though it is not of a La Diablesse, there is something about it that brought to mind this poem by Samantha R. S., which is:

A Reckoning
Child,
They will tell you about me.
They will say that I was born of
The limb of the creature and
The belly of the beast.
They will douse me in black magic
And set my face up in flames.
But child,
They will not tell you that
I am the collective cries
Of all my sisters,
Her spilled blood
Coursing once more
Through my veins,
And a mother’s fury
Woven into my hair.
I am perfumed
Vengeance and witchcraft,
The screams of a thousand women
Plaited into my charm,
Their dignity spewing out
The slit of my dress.
And when the
Brothers,
Fathers,
Uncles,
Husbands,
Brutes go missing,
They will call my name.
And when they do,
Correct them.
Tell them that La Diablesse was nothing more
Than a reckoning.
Tales of Root, Silk & Bone pg. 144

The La Diablesse, for me, has always been less of a horror story and more of—as Samantha says here—a Reckoning. A woman who has power and uses that to avenge herself and other wronged women. She is a blood-soaked nightmare for men—and frankly, they need that reminder that women can have fangs, too.

Though this is not a typical La Diablesse story, this tale from Greer still haunts me (maybe because I have driven this road many times):

What are you doing here?
A Tale from Greer
(Matura)
A small convoy of five cars pierced through the darkness towards Matura beach. It was well after 10 p.m. as we drove through nature towards the protected nesting area of the leatherback turtles.
I was in the second vehicle, with three others following. The lead vehicle, driven by my Dad, was well ahead and disappeared around another dark corner of the winding dirt road.
For a good portion of this leg of the drive, we were surrounded by thick trees and tall grass, with no indication of any structures or homes in sight.
Suddenly, I saw a white figure ahead. I naturally assumed that the other two occupants in the vehicle with me would also see this figure dressed head to toe in white flowing garb. I said nothing and just kept observing, wondering what she was doing and if she needed help.
As we passed her, I ogled, and her eyes met mine for a brief second. She was real.
Only then did I say, "What is she doing?" Quickly, I realised that mine were the only pair of eyes that actually saw her.
When we finally reached our destination on the beach, I asked the occupants of the one car that was at the front of the convoy and the three cars that were following, and no-one could confirm that they saw anyone at all. No one else saw her.
Regret that I did not point her out the instant I first saw her, or make the driver and other cars stop to see her, talk to her, touch her, prove she existed, engulfed me. I had no evidence, only a description that in retrospect spelt La Diablesse.
An elderly lady, dressed in all white. Her dress was flowing in the wind as the cars brushed by. She had a blank expression, but I got the feeling she was asking the same question I was: "What are you doing here?" She stood on the very edge of the road, but within the tall grass that reached her thighs. She stayed absolutely still; she did not move. She watched us, as I watched her.
The picture I have of her has never, ever left my memory. I don’t think it ever will.
https://folkloristics.wordpress.com/trinidad-and-tobago/la-diablesse/
(This is totally what she looked like.)
Tales of Root, Silk & Bone pg. 227

These stories, and others from growing up and from friends, also inspired me to write a couple pieces on the La Diablesse that I included in the book. One of them was further inspired by Greek plays (with a choir) and the Egyptian symbology of the vulture (corbeau), and it just so happened that around that time I picked up Ayanna Lloyd Banwo’s When We Were Birds—so my mind was afire with inspiration.

I have no intention of completing the short play I titled In the Wings of Mother Corbeau, but I loved the idea of delving a bit into that world and what it could be like; to give voice to the women brutalised and left without care, and the choice between forgiveness and grace; or vengeance and never ending rage.

The “play” starts off with a woman weeping over a dead body—revealed to be her body, and that her spirit lingers on. Mother Corbeau, a being of justice who looks over the dead and protects them, guides them to the afterlife so they may be reborn, approaches her—and begins to explain her choice: to give into death and the neverending cycle; or to step outside of it to haunt and feed on the fear and blood of men like the one(s) who killed her, but to never find peace—as a la diablesse:

In the Wings of Mother Corbeau (Excerpt)
by ᛝBritt
MOTHER CORBEAU
Justice and vengeance are mirror images, but one is twisted by the dark. Don’t let its reflection fool you.
MAIDEN
Yuh jus sayin’ fancy words to tie up meh head.
MOTHER CORBEAU
It is easy to choose rage. It is harder to choose love. But to choose love for yourself is to choose peace. Allow the deities that be judge men’s souls; trust in the cycle of life. Every action has its consequence, on the final weighing of souls.
MAIDEN
Too many ah men does rape and kill. Dey should know wha is like to feel like they ain’t got nowhere safe to go.
MOTHER CORBEAU
Other women have chosen as you have – to rage and rage against the wave of despair, of hurt and pain and anger and grief. To haunt and kidnap and devour men’s souls. To enact vengeance. But after they are all used up by this rage, they don’t fade away, they don’t move on. They chose their rage, and peace is their price.
MAIDEN
So where they, huh? Lemme meet them.
MOTHER CORBEAU
They are always around, forever starved, hunting for their prey. And as we move into the days of never-ending light, of cities that never sleep, they get more and more desperate. They will not answer my call, for they hate and repulse my presence; but should you call them, they will answer a sister’s cry.
Tales of Root, Silk & Bone pg. 119

I, and I would like to believe, the others who contributed pieces of the La Diablesse, all wanted to show this other side of her—the vengeance, the reckoning, the rage and hurt and grief we, as women, face. The violence we are subjected to for being women—and not just in the major ways; we don’t need to be physically assaulted to feel unsafe being female. We don’t need to be attacked to know we may be; we don’t need to be threatened to feel the aggression in someone’s actions, words, and demeanour. And sure, we can protect ourselves in whatever way we can—but that doesn’t take away the fact that we also are looking for protection; for safety; for security. For the freedom to just exist. And in a small way, to “know” an avenger is out there is a way of protecting ourselves; knowing that men, too, may feel the bite of unwanted attention and the fear of the dark—because of La Diablesse—is a small blessing.

I feel I can talk about this character for ages, and pull up so many examples from just the book to go even deeper, but instead I’d leave it with this final note:

from meeting the Form 1’s in October 2023 to discuss folklore (I don’t have any images from the talk with the L&D Society)

I was invited to speak to the Literary & Debate Club of St. Joseph’s Convent, Port-of-Spain, a couple months ago, and we got to talking about the La Diablesse. A lot of the points discussed here were also raised by these young girls—the eldest there were maybe from Form 5, as it was during exams and end of term. So, for our young women, aged approximate 11-17, to feel this way; to connect so deeply to a folkloric character and identify not just the fear, but deeper feelings of empowerment she can represent—was both sobering and inspiring. Sobering—because it frankly sucks that girls young as 11 years old have to worry about their physical safety; but inspiring—because it shows how relevant these folklore tales still can be.

I, for one, absolutely loved every piece that was inspired by this character, because they were all so powerful and moving, and showed the sides of being a female that aren’t normally on display—the rage, the savagery, the grief.

It’s not all roses and sparkles out here, and it shouldn’t have to be.

So let out a bit of your inner devil woman, darling.
ᛝBritt

The La Diablesse: What is she?

Traditionally, the La Diablesse (“devil-woman” in French) is depicted as a woman wearing colonial garb in head-to-toe white and a large, wide-brimmed hat. She is beautiful, alluring, and seductive. If you were to see her walk, she’d walk with a swaying gait, and you’d hear the clink of chains—as she is said to have one foot that is a cow’s foot with a chain attached to it. Origins of her tale place her to be a colonial estate master’s wife—hence her dress—but it can also vary depending on where the story is from.

She typically approaches men—especially men who are unfaithful—and tries to seduce them, to take her home or into the forest. Should these men become aware of her scheme, lighting a match or flicking a lighter can show her true monstrous form and she will fade away, cackling, with her voice echoing: “I almos’ ketch yuh, I almos’ ketch yuh” (I almost caught you). Some versions of the La Diablesse tale feature a crying baby, and with the distressed mother asking a man for help, because her baby is trapped—in the forest.

La Diablesse is one of the better-known folklore tales of Trinidad, and can be linked to other countries’ tales of a Woman in White—which is typically a ghost of a woman who has either lost her child in childbirth—or, in darker versions of the tale—killed the child, then herself (a very real symptom of post-partum depression).

In Tales of Root, Silk & Bone, you can find more of the La Diablesse in these tales, poetry, and art: