Religion (2001) 31, 247–263

doi:10.1006/reli.2001.0333, available online at http://www.idealibrary.com on

REVIEW ARTICLE

Matriarchy and Myth

K C*

In her earlier work, Living in the Lap of the Goddess, Cynthia Eller filled a gap in
scholarship by documenting the goddess revival movement and its practices. My own
research revealed many readers, both practitioners and more conservative academics,
who considered Eller a friend to the practice because she acknowledged the movement
by giving voice to its adherents. Now, however, some charge that in The Myth of
Matriarchal Prehistory Eller unveils herself as an opponent to the goddess revival
movement.
Early in Matriarchal Prehistory Eller makes this shift from friend to foe clear. She
begins by sharing her memories of a class trip to the archaeological site of Knossos in
Crete, and her classmates’ derisive response to the archaeology professor’s description
of Minoan society as matriarchal. She felt that ‘the whole discussion amounted to
cruel teasing of the playground variety’ and writes that ‘I was annoyed with the
professor for bringing it up and then letting it degenerate from archaeological
observation to cheap joke’ (p. 4). Yet her fascination with the story continued. She
admits that the story ‘exerted a magnetic appeal’ for her, ‘but an even stronger
magnetic repulsion’: ‘Eventually I had to admit that something was behind my
constant bickering about the myth’s historicity, something more than a lofty notion
of intellectual honesty and the integrity of historical method’ (p. 6). This is an
important disclosure of Eller’s emotional relationship with this narrative: the trauma,
‘repulsion’ and something beyond ‘intellectual honesty’ form the analytic lens through
which Eller presents the evidence often cited in support of the theory of a
prepatriarchal prehistory. However, Eller reflects no further on her predisposition to
the topic, appearing to presume her own evenhandedness.
Matriarchal Prehistory is a useful introduction for those unfamiliar with the goddess
revival movement, or the hypothesis of a prepatriarchal prehistory. The first chapters
provide an in-depth and broad account of the history of matriarchal theory, the
formidable literature, feminist influences, and the diaspora into popular culture. Eller
proposes that the ‘myth of matriarchal prehistory’, beginning with Johann Jakob
Bachofen’s Mother Right, has influenced many scholarly fields and then does a
courageous job of grappling with a vast amount of material. She examines evidence
from archaeology, cultural anthropology and mythology used in support of a hypotheti-
cal prehistorical period in which the goddess was worshiped, women were valued as life
givers, and societies were egalitarian and peaceful. Eller concludes that the evidence does
not provide proof for the thesis and that it would be more accurate to refer to
the theory as a myth. Further, she claims this myth not only commits women to a
narrow ideal, strikingly similar to the stereotypes of women propagated by traditional
*Cynthia Eller, The Myth of Matriarchal Prehistory: Why an Invented Past Won’t Give Women a Future. Boston, Beacon
Press, 2000, 304 pp., $26.00 (hardback) ISBN 08070 6792 X; 276 pp., $16.00 (paperback) ISBN 08070 6793 8.

 2001 Academic Press

0048–721X/01/030247+17 $35.00/0
248 K. Coleman

conservatives (i.e., that women are nurturing, relational, intuitive and close to nature)
but also is biased against men.
The problem, and danger, in recommending this book is that Eller’s biases are so
subtle that the unfamiliar inquirer is unlikely to be able to differentiate Eller’s opinion
from fact or to know that the evidence considered is selectively amassed. Although Eller
appears to delve into the depths of the many sources considered, a close look at her
references suggests that she fashions the evidence to corroborate her perspective. By
selectively drawing from a complex body of material and providing extreme examples,
she crafts her argument in a style remarkably similar to that of those she criticises. She
charges that the ‘partisans’ of ‘the myth’ are selective in their data and claims that the
evidence not cited tells another story. At one point she describes the argument for a
matriarchal prehistory as entirely composed ‘of a highly ideological reading of a couple
of prehistoric artifacts accompanied by some dubious anthropology, perhaps a little
astrology, and a fatuous premise . . . or two or three’ (p. 5). Yet her bibliography reveals
a range of sources that themselves demonstrate this view as an erroneous and disparaging
depiction of those engaged in considering the possibility of a prepatriarchal prehistory.
These sources are transformed by Eller into a reified straw man she labels the ‘feminist
matriarchalists’.
Eller wants the goddess spirituality practitioners to admit that the hypothesis of
prehistory is ‘myth’. Scholars do not demand that Christians admit the passion story is
‘myth’, so why must this group? Rather than settling for a recognition of the complexity
of the evidence, Eller wants the entire proposal of a matricentric prehistory to be
acknowledged as ‘implausible’ and the ‘noise the theory of matriarchal prehistory makes’
silenced (p. 3). Many goddess revivalists have themselves stated for decades that they do
not care whether the theory is proved non-historical; it will not change the effect this
counter-cultural concept has had on their lives. This position frustrates the antagonists
of the goddess revival (see Walters 1985). At times they seem to forget that the goddess
revival movement is a religion. What the movement provides is not a ‘belief system’ so
much as a system of valuation that has broken through the male-constructed metaphysic
on which Westerners have been raised.
Many of Eller’s criticisms in Matriarchal Prehistory have already been made by other
scholars. In particular, some of her principal arguments restate, in expanded form, the
criticisms raised by Sally Binford in a short 1979 article (see Binford 1979).1 Charlene
Spretnak responded to that article by claiming that ‘most feminist Goddess-researchers
share Binford’s exasperation with ‘‘loose talk’’ of a ‘‘Golden Age of Matriarchy’’ in
Greece or elsewhere. Spretnak describes Binford’s article as containing

a number of lesser and greater errors. Her central premise—that feminist researchers
and their hapless followers subscribe to ‘the golden age of matriarchy’ theory—is
simply false. . . . This recognition of the limits of our knowledge is a theme that has
pervaded all the major books published on Goddess religion during the past few years,
e.g., the works of Stone, Rich, Gimbutas, Fisher, Christ, Goldenberg. (Spretnak 1982,
pp. 553–4)

Since Eller’s book repeats the same errors committed in Binford’s article, Spretnak’s
response challenges the premises of much of Eller’s argument. It denies the utopian
‘Golden Age’ vision that Eller claims is a part of the ‘myth’. It denies that there are
claims to historical certainty. And it denies the commonality of belief that Eller claims
exists. Is Eller’s naming of a ‘myth of matriarchal prehistory’ itself mythic? It appears that
 Matriarchy and Myth 249

she has constructed of her own making an attitude and a vision that do not accurately
reflect the movement.

The Myth
Eller adds to what she means by the ‘myth of a matriarchal prehistory’ throughout the
book. At times the added elements are so odd that it becomes questionable how common
a belief in this story, this ‘myth’, can be. Eller’s ‘myth’ includes a depiction of the
‘matriarchy’ as universal and existing for many millennia (see p. 19). Further descriptions
of this ‘myth’ encompass outlandish theories such as the ability for ‘intercommunication
with all the creatures of earth’ (p. 41); belief in early women’s ability to procreate
parthenogenetically (p. 11); and claims that men were peripheral to the development of
civilisation, a late addition to women’s list of ‘domesticated animals’ (p. 33); while
women were worshiped as the principle of life (p. 3)—all this until about five thousand
years ago, when nomadic invasions of male-dominated cultures overthrew the female-
dominated cultures. The excessive elements of the myth as defined by Eller entreat the
readers’ concurrence with her opinion that the goddess revivalists are ‘vacuous’.
This ‘matriarchal myth’ weaves descriptions of an existence without private property
with lyrics of daily chores performed with sacrality and ritual intent. Marxist theory
is meshed with illusory descriptions of extraterrestrials. History, analysis, theory and
fiction are freed of reference or distinction. Eller admits to focusing on the enthusiasts
as sources for the ‘myth’, an ‘inner circle of devotees’ (p. 11). It is questionable whether
these sources in fact capture the more accepted version of a hypothesis of a
prepatriarchal prehistorical past. Her methodology seems analogous to using the rhetoric
of televangelists to define Protestant theology at large.
One goddess practitioner who heard Eller’s version of the myth responded that it is
more representative of the ‘starry-eyed’ practitioner than representative of the majority.2
Another practitioner expressed skepticism when asked about a general theory of a
matriarchal prehistory, saying, ‘From archaeological evidence, how much can you
deduce?’ and adding, ‘Matrilineal tribal cultures are not matriarchal. I don’t know if
there was ever a culture when women ruled’.3 The preeminent question regarding
Eller’s ‘myth of matriarchal prehistory’ is whether the ‘myth’ as she depicts it would be
considered feasible by most advocates of the hypothesis. The reification and substitution
of an inaccurate historiographical interpretation created from ‘a few scraps of allegedly
empirical evidence’ are described by David Hackett Fischer in Historians’ Fallacies as the
historian’s ‘fallacy of hypostatized proof’ (Fischer 1970, p. 56).
The same ‘fallacy of hypostatized proof’ applies to Eller’s very choice of the term
‘matriarchy’ to describe the prehistorical era’s social structure. She concedes that the
term could raise a few eyebrows, explaining that ‘[p]artisans of the myth usually resist
the term because of its connotations of ‘‘rule by women’’ ’ as a mere gender inversion
of patriarchy (p. 12).4 Eller explains that her use of ‘matriarchy’ follows the lead of a few
enthusiasts who persist in using it. Despite her acknowledgment of the potential
inappropriateness of the term, Eller twice refers to the myth’s gender reversals, describing
her own intrigue ‘with the idea of female rule or female ‘‘centeredness’’ ’ as a ‘reversal
that had a sweet taste of power and revenge’ (p. 5). While she claims that the term
‘prepatriarchal’, more commonly used today, ‘is too vague’, matriarchy is not any clearer
(p. 12). By naming this ‘myth’ matriarchal, Eller has at best blurred the crucial
distinctions among matriarchy, matriliny and matrilocality. Perhaps the use of the term
‘matriarchy’ is the first step in the creation of a myth.
250 K. Coleman

Feminist Matriarchalist
Eller argues that an adequate critique of the ‘matriarchal myth’ requires ‘a proper
understanding of who promotes it and what they stand to gain by doing so’ (p. 9). To
these ends, she coins the term ‘feminist matriarchalist’ to describe the practitioners of the
goddess movement. But later in the book, as Eller delves further into theory, the
‘feminist matriarchalists’ are no longer mere practitioners. When a particular theory
lends support to any aspect of the ‘myth’, even if no intended association exists, she
labels the author a ‘feminist matriarchalist’. Fiction writers who romanticise a prehistoric
period become indistinguishable from archaeologists, linguists, sociologists, anthropol-
ogists, psychologists, theologians and scholars of religion. Eller forthrightly describes her
methodology:

I make no distinction between the tenured professor examining cuneiform tablets, the
novelist spinning out imaginative fantasies of prehistoric Europe, and the New Age
practitioner writing impassioned letters to spiritual feminist publications about her past
lives as a priestess in Neolithic Europe. (p. 11)

This lack of distinction creates a surprising catalogue of persons who are ‘feminist
matriarchalists’. They include Sigmund Freud, Fredrick Engels, Darwin, Vicki Noble,
Matthew Fox and Audre Lorde. The criteria are puzzling. Gerda Lerner is exonerated
of the label, but Engels is not. Ultimately, the reification of ‘feminist matriarchalists’ is
unconvincing because Eller fails to give these sources the credibility they warrant. In
addition, this method is the historian’s ‘fallacy of circular proof’, which assumes what is
to be proved (see Fischer 1970, pp. 49–51).5 While Eller accuses ‘partisans’ of seeing the
goddess wherever they look because that is what they are looking for, she herself seems
to find ‘feminist matriarchalists’ in every quarter.

Patriarchy Always-Already
Eller states that she will not attempt to ‘determine whether patriarchy is a human
universal or a recent historical phenomenon’ (p. 8). Yet she asserts that ‘if there is one
broad pattern regarding women’s status, it is that it is lower than men’s’ (p. 113). She
insists that in the absence of compelling proof of any other form of social structure from
archaeology, cultural anthropology, myth or feminist theory, we must accept that
patriarchy has always been here. In making this argument, Eller commits the historian’s
‘fallacy of negative proof’, namely, to declare that because ‘there is no evidence that X
is the case’, therefore not-X is the case (Fischer 1970, p. 47).6 Eller insists that ‘feminist
matriarchalists’ provide proof of a ‘matriarchal’ prehistoric past, though she also admits
that this is ‘in principle unobtainable’ (p. 184).
Eller’s rejection of a homogenous prehistorical culture is persuasive, for it is unlikely
that any one universal culture that valued women and worshiped goddesses lasted for
many millennia. However, the variety that Eller insists exists in the ethnographic record
and that she accuses ‘feminist matriarchalists’ of ignoring is not represented in her own
exposition. She presents the ethnographic data on egalitarian cultures as ‘exceptions’ or
emphasises the components of male dominance. For example, Eller concedes in a
footnote that some cultural anthropologists view gender equality as more likely in
foraging societies (see p. 218 n. 49) but argues that such societies are in practice often
‘compatible with the most virulent misogyny and sexism’ (p. 109). She then cites the
Mundurucú of the Amazon jungle as an example of a culture in which—although the
men give the kill from hunting to women who distribute the food—‘women are
 Matriarchy and Myth 251

expected to keep their eyes lowered and their mouths covered when in the company of
men’. If they venture outside of their village, they are ‘in effect’ consenting to be raped
(p. 111). In reality, the ethnographic record is not so uniformly bleak.
The anthology Women and Power in Native North America offers ethnographic studies
of various tribes that complicates Eller’s simplified depiction of the ethnographic record.
For example, Alice Kehoe, in ‘Blackfoot Persons’, writes:
Women are believed to have more innate power than men, because they are born with
power to reproduce both the human and the material components of the social world.
. . . Men’s inability to bear children was interpreted as a sign of lesser reproductive
power, carrying over to an inability to make—reproduce—tipis, clothing, or well-
prepared meals . . . the components of civilized society. (Kehoe 1995, pp. 120–1)

This particular case demonstrates a principal contention of this anthology, namely, that
‘complementarity’ and ‘egalitarianism’ are more appropriate terms than ‘domination’
and ‘inequality’ in understanding tribal cultures. From the same anthology Lillian
Ackerman explains that although ‘the sexual division of labor may be fundamental to the
genesis of sexual stratification . . . it does not automatically lead to female subordination’
(Ackerman 1995, p. 77). This is another reason that Eller’s use of ‘matriarchy’ is
unsettling. It retains an emphasis on gender (as a primary determinant of status and
identity) and power (as power over7) that, however endemic in Western social
structure, cannot be presumed to exist cross-culturally or in prehistory. Although Eller
demonstrates her awareness of a variety of social structures and the complexity of these
categories, her resolutions appear bound by antiquated and narrow understandings of
gender and power.
In 1973, Sherry Ortner authored the seminal work, Is Female to Male as Nature Is to
Culture?, which concluded that male dominance is universal. In her more recent Making
Gender (1996), Ortner concedes that her earlier conclusion was hasty. Her mistakes were
to ‘play up’ and ‘seize upon an indicator of male superiority, female ‘‘pollution’’, etc.,
and label a whole culture ‘‘male dominant’’ ’ (Ortner 1996, p. 175) and to ‘ignore or
misread’ contrary data’ (Ortner 1996, p. 142). Ortner now concludes that ‘[t]here are
clearly societies with what must be described as egalitarian hegemonies’ (Ortner 1996,
p. 146).
The diminishment of women’s status is a well-documented effect of colonisation and
missionary efforts on tribal peoples (see Klein and Ackerman 1995, pp. 9–10). Poignant
confirmation of this historical perspective is found in Peggy Sanday’s research: ‘The
work of some writers has led to the conclusion that ‘‘the penetration of Western
colonialism, and with it Western practices and attitudes regarding women, have so
widely influenced women’s role in aboriginal societies as to depress women’s status
almost everywhere in the world’’ ’ (Sanday 1981, p. 135). Eller acknowledges alterna-
tive accounts in footnotes, but within her text she downplays these accounts by
emphasising the inability to measure the variation between pre- and post-colonial
influences. With these historical examples not so far in the past, the theories of an
invading or migrating culture that introduced patriarchal values to prehistoric indig-
enous cultures of Europe seem less imaginative. Native colleagues and teachers describe
some tribal models as examples of better conditions for women, so that one wonders
why models of empowerment and autonomy from historical cultures would endanger
rather than empower women. While Eller claims that ‘if ethnographic reports are any
indication, then women’s status prehistorically was variable, not uniform’ (p. 113), she
selects morose examples that emphasise women as the hardest labourers and their
252 K. Coleman

products as the least valued. The variations she argues for are not demonstrated by her
choice of consistently oppressive examples.

Patriarchal Development
Eller claims that the advocates of the ‘matriarchal myth’ unsuccessfully argue that
patriarchy is a recent development in human history. According to Eller, advocates
describe a social transformation from peaceful to violent and oppressive cultures as a
result of invading or migrating nomadic tribes throughout Europe and East Asia about
five thousand years ago. She deals with this issue primarily by focusing on the evidence
of an ‘Indo-European’ culture that Gimbutas describes as the Kurgans. Eller’s descrip-
tions in this section raise three problematic issues.8 First, although Eller concludes that
the evidence is ‘suggestive’ at best, she grants that archaeological, linguistic and genetic
evidence support the theory of a migration from the Russian steppes throughout most
of Europe. Second, she fails to consider the ‘Indo’ side of the hyphen, arguing that
compelling evidence does not exist for a social and religious transformation within
Europe only. However, scholars have long proposed that in the South Asian subcon-
tinent the so-called Aryans transformed a more goddess- and nature-focused religion to
one of gods and sacrifices. Like Gimbutas’ Kurgans, they rode horses, were militant and
introduced a patriarchal structure (see Coburn 1988). Last, Eller fulfills the ‘fallacy of the
presumptive proof’ by placing the burden of proof on ‘feminist matriarchalists’ to
provide a compelling explanation for the rise of patriarchy (see Fischer 1970, pp. 48–9).9

Patterns in Ancient Myth

The goddess revivalists claim that evidence for this social transformation is visible not
only in archaeological remains but also in early mythological texts. While Eller focuses
mostly on classical Greek sources, she does mention other myths to illustrate the
virtually universal depiction of a patriarchal overthrow—for example, the Babylonian
myth of Tiamat and Marduk, in which Marduk kills Tiamat and splits her into two,
creating the earth and sky from her body.10 Eller reads the overthrows as two recurring
patterns: first, a conflict and triumph of gods over goddesses and second, stories of
‘women’s former dominance and its overthrow’ (p. 169).
Eller dismisses the perception of preexisting, female-centred cosmologies by main-
taining that ‘myth yields up that conclusion quite naturally’ only if one has this
assumption in place (p. 174). She also refers to Malinowski’s theory of myth as tending
to ‘promote the status quo’ (p. 176), as did Binford twenty years ago. Spretnak’s cunning
response to Binford is worth repeating: ‘if myths are created solely to justify the status
quo . . . it would seem that the powerful female symbols and myths dated in the
prepatriarchal era carry a message for us’ (Spretnak 1982, p. 560).
Eller’s analysis focuses on myths that describe a truly matriarchal, women-ruled, society
and its takeover by men. She concludes that these myths ‘could well exist only to quell
men’s anxieties about their social position’, basically serving to legitimate male domi-
nance while ‘obviating the need for the direct coercive use of force’ (pp. 177–8). This
argument does not explain why the myths depict a violent masculine overthrow or make
reference to an earlier cosmology in which women and goddesses had greater value.
Eller also subtly repudiates the ‘supposed prehistoric transfer of power from goddesses
to gods’ [italics added] (p. 33). The prehistoric ‘record’ is, of course, non-existent. Yet
in 1992 the Assyriologist/Sumerologist Tikva Frymer-Kensky published In the Wake of
the Goddesses, largely in reaction and opposition to the goddess movement. She
 Matriarchy and Myth 253

documents the transformation of the cosmology as relayed through Sumerian and

Akkadian myths, but most important she describes the change of power as notably
already in process with the first writings:

Among the changes in religion, one trend that becomes very clear is the ongoing
eclipse and the marginalization of the goddesses. . . . [T]his process seems already under
way as soon as a written record becomes available. Despite the extensive roles of
goddesses in Sumerian literature, one gets the impression that things are already in flux
and that our documents already reflect a process of supplanting goddesses. (Frymer-
Kensky 1992, p. 70)

Frymer-Kensky describes how the primordial first mothers disappear early from myth
accounts: ‘the mother of all and the creator of humanity was Nammu, who was then
eclipsed by Enki. In another strand of Mesopotamian mythology, the primordial mother
was Ki, the earth . . . she is supplanted by her son, Enlil’ (Frymer-Kensky 1992, p. 71).
In the earlier texts from the city of Lagash the triad of the greatest gods are An, Enlil and
the goddess Ninhursag. However, according to Frymer-Kensky, around 1900–
1800 B.C.E. the supreme divine triad became An, Enlil and Enki. Enki is often the
culprit, traceable in strands of Mesopotamian myth, who takes over the functions of the
mother-goddess (see Frymer-Kensky 1992, pp. 71–2).11
Of utmost importance, Frymer-Kensky reports that the ancient texts reveal the
diminution of power and status for real women over a period of about fifteen hundred
years: ‘The world by the end of the second millennium was a male’s world, above and
below; and the ancient goddesses have all but disappeared’ (Frymer-Kensky 1992,
p. 80). When the goddesses do exist, they often take on the role of supporter and
maintainer of the gender order.
Frymer-Kensky’s work exemplifies the supporting evidence of a hypothesis of a
goddess-worshipping, woman-valuing prehistorical past that is similar to Eller’s ‘myth’,
though not so enthusiastic. Indications of a transfer or appropriation of women’s and
goddesses’ power are not unique to Mesopotamia. In classical Greece, Spretnak
describes the alterations of the pantheon, and Eller herself traces a dissolution of
women’s status and freedom there (see Spretnak 1982, p. 168). Thomas Coburn
illustrates the contrast between the ‘striking richness of the pre-Aryan material regarding
the place of the feminine in religious life, and the corresponding poverty of the Aryan’
in the Indus Valley (Coburn 1988, p. 15). He distinguishes the Vedic goddesses as
‘goddesses with a small ‘‘g’’ rather than the singular embodiment that we might write
with a capital’ (Coburn 1988, p. 15). Sree Padma describes how ‘in brahmanical circles
of Hindu tradition . . . there has been a consistent attempt . . . to subordinate the powers
of the goddess to the great gods of the priestly brahmanical tradition’ (Padma 1995, p. 2).
She explains that sanskritisation or brahmanisation includes ‘a systematic subordination of
the feminine as it has been ubiquitously envisioned in popular culture, a development
that probably runs parallel to the manner in which women have been socially
subordinated in the brahmanical vision of social hierarchy’ (Padma 1995, p. 10). Despite
these arguments, Eller judges that the early texts provide ‘no real support for the
proposed prehistoric patriarchal revolution’ and that interpretations of the myths as
supportive of such a hypothesis are ‘transparently driven by ideology’ (p. 179).

Archaeology
Eller depicts archaeology—with the strong exception of Marija Gimbutas’ work—as the
only discipline untainted by the ‘matriarchal myth’. Eller inaccurately claims that
254 K. Coleman

Gimbutas is the only partisan of the myth who is an archaeologist (p. 39). Yet Eller’s own
bibliography reveals work by archaeologists similarly aligned, one of whom is described
by someone else as on a ‘Gimbutasian quest for full-fledged matriarchies and Amazons’
(Osborn 1997, p. 10).
Contrary to Eller, some archaeologists do propose the decline of the goddesses. Louise
Hitchcock argues that the figurines of Minoan Knossos indicate ‘a gradual transference
of power relations between males and females through the appropriation of a gesture
popular among a particular class of female worshipper’ (Hitchcock 1997, p. 128).
The archaeologist Margaret Ehrenberg suggests the ‘distribution and eventual decline’
of figurines during the Neolithic period throughout much of Europe and the
Mediterranean islands ‘may shed interesting light on the changing status of women
during the early prehistoric period’ (Ehrenberg 1989, p. 69). Ehrenberg’s description of
the tenor within archaeology contrasts sharply to Eller’s: ‘Many archaeologists today . . .
would hesitate to reject with such certainty any possibility that evidence for matriarchy
might yet be found, even if it is not clear quite what form such evidence might take’
(Ehrenberg 1989, p. 63).
In order to assess whether there is proof of egalitarian or woman-ruled cul-
tures, Eller evaluates the artifacts and ruins at the most reputably ‘goddess’ sites:
Çatalhöyük, Malta, and Knossos. She argues quite persuasively that the evidence
does not demonstrate the existence of such societies. Her descriptions of the
archaeological evidence at Çatalhöyük are the most convincing. Referring to the
burial of women under the larger sleeping platforms, she disagrees with those who
interpret this burial as showng women’s higher status in the community: ‘Perhaps
the large, fixed platforms belonged to the men, and they buried their wives and
children under them to feel close to their deceased family members, or even to
underscore the fact that in death—as in life—these people were considered their
property’ (p. 100). There is merit in her interpretation of the platforms. And
Gimbutas is overly enthusiastic at times in interpreting highly ambiguous signs as
symbols of the goddess.
For Knossos, however, Eller’s argument is not so decisive. She writes that
‘females represented in sealstones, if goddesses, are notable mostly for their
relationship to animals’ (p. 153). By contrast, she claims that males are depicted in
‘characteristically different roles than females’ (p. 153): ‘The most common male
image is of a ‘‘god’’ whom classical archaeologists sometimes name ‘‘Master of
Animals,’’ for he ‘‘holds two wild animals in a position of submission and
subjugation’’ . . . unlike comparable females, who are typically shown ‘‘feeding or
tending animals’’ ’ (pp. 153–4). This claim needs elaboration, however. First, in
Minoan Religion, Nanno Marinatos does not describe this sealstone as the most
common image of a male but instead as the most common representation of the
god (see Marinatos 1993, p. 167). Second, Marinatos describes it as ‘an iconographi-
cal formula: a deity who holds two wild animals’ [italics added] (Marinatos 1993,
p. 167). At least four figures in Minoan Religion show the same depiction with a
goddess, or female, as having equally ‘subjugated’ the animals (or perhaps befriended
through tasty morsels?) (see Marinatos, pp. 155–6). Goddesses are also shown riding
griffins and lions. In fact, ‘The Mistress of Animals’ seal, which pictures the
animal-flanked goddess atop a mountain being saluted by a male, is far more
denotative of esteem and power. Marinatos ends the section on the ‘Master of
Animals’ by noting that ‘it will be remembered that all these creatures are servants
to the goddess as well’ (Marinatos 1993, p. 169).
 Matriarchy and Myth 255

Figurines
Eller maintains that we cannot know the meaning of an ancient artifact. But others claim
that ‘art symbols communicate no less than spoken symbols and constitute a wealth of
information about the ideology and ritual of extinct peoples’ (Roosevelt 1990, p. 5).
Many voices have spoken of a different sensibility aroused by the figurines and frescoes
that promote a belief in an alternative and better—meaning a less oppressive and more
caring, not necessarily a ‘Golden Age’—reality. The idea of a woman as an image of the
divine, or simply as a sacred presence, is counter-intuitive for mainstream Western
culture. Thus the object of study here is not solely figurine artifacts but something that
both sides of the debate appear to intuit is potentially subversive to contemporary
constructions of reality.
Eller is sceptical of vernacular descriptions of the inspirational affects of these images.
She suggests that these perceptions depend upon previous indoctrination by a ‘feminist
matriarchalist’. She suggests that the figurines may be pornographic and that they may
be ‘dolls’.12 Eller includes comparative sketches from Björn Kurtén’s How to Deep-Freeze
a Mammoth that anachronistically juxtapose supposed figurine parts13 with sketches of
contemporary pornographic poses of women.14 Eller repeats Kurtén’s interpretations:
‘There is a straight line from Ice Age art to Rodin, to Zorn’s Delacarlian women, and
to the Playboy bunnies of later days’ (Kurtén 1986, p. 113). Kurtén in fact is not quite
so crass as the sketches (he is not the artist). His descriptions are more erotic than
pornographic. He views the subjects as ‘works of love’ that ‘give voice to an unabashed
sensual joy and tenderness’ (Kurtén 1986, p. 113).
Eller ultimately acknowledges that the cross-cultural evidence drawn on to demon-
strate the possibility of the figurines as ‘dolls’ is not without a religious ‘doll’ function.
That is, the cross-cultural uses used to support the label exceed playing dress-up
or dating Ken. But this is not the meaning of the word ‘doll’ in Western culture. The
use of this term to describe the figurines cannot be innocent of its diminutive
connotation.
After presenting the arguments for interpreting the figurines as caveman’s pornogra-
phy or children’s playthings, Eller unexpectedly states that the argument that the
Paleolithic female figurines had a religious or magical function is ‘relatively well
supported’ (p. 136). Of the Neolithic figurines, she concludes that it is ‘plausible that
they are the material remains of goddess worship’ (pp. 141–2). It is laudable that she
gives both sides of the figurine argument, but they are unevenly presented. Because
Eller fails to consider the inadequacies of the pornographic argument and too readily
dismisses the affect of the art, the data she presents compromise her stated conclusion.
A less political approach than theories of ‘dolls’ or caveman’s pornography is the view
that these artifacts are the text of prehistoric cultures. In Social Theory and Archaeology
Michael Shanks and Christopher Tilley argue that material culture is a ‘communicative
signifying system’ (Shanks and Tilley 1987, p. 102). They deny that material forms are
too ambiguous to reflect the ideas embodied and attribute to material culture a cognitive
system patterning that is determined from the structure of its relations with other items
(see Shanks and Tilley 1987, p. 103). Yet this analysis of the prehistoric figurine artifacts
is problematic because of the absence of descriptive information. Interpretive labels such
as ‘cultic prostitute’ or ‘doll’ reveal something about the archaeologist but frightfully
little about the figurine. Changes within the archaeological field, reflected in the
poststructuralist criticism of Shanks and Tilley, will in time increase our ability to assess
fairly these figurines. The ideological slant has to date rendered a large number of
artifacts unavailable for such analysis.15
256 K. Coleman

Goddesses: Not a One-To-One Correspondence with Empowered Women

Eller argues persuasively that there is no one-to-one correspondence between a goddess
in the cosmos and empowered women in the culture:

Feminist matriarchalists are basically going on instinct in believing goddesses to be

positively related to the status of women—and instinct, in this case, does not prove to
be a very good guide. They note that male dominance is correlated in recent history
with the veneration of a male god or gods and assume that the obverse must also be
true because it ‘seems logical’. (p. 105)

This logic has upheld the argument by Ludwig Feuerbach that the Jewish and Christian
God is a projection of man’s ideal self-image. There is a strong correlation between the
one who gets to define God and the one who has power. Perhaps this theory needs to
be qualified with a cross-traditional recognition that deities, especially in polytheistic
traditions, are not always omnipotent. If a goddess dominates the cosmos, it seems
unlikely that this deity will have been created by male oppressors.
Goddess worship in India is often invoked to show that goddesses in the cosmos can
exist even while women are oppressed on earth. Eller refers to Cynthia Humes to
demonstrate how goddesses ‘support patriarchal social customs’ in India (p. 104). She
cites a quotation from Humes’ fieldwork that ‘the difference between the Goddess and
women is like the difference between the stone you worship and the rock on which you
defecate’ (p. 104). In an interview Humes responded that Eller’s examples were
particularly negative and failed to reflect the complexity of goddess worship in India.
According to Humes, the critical issue is ‘how the goddess is understood’.16 Although
she agrees with Eller’s statement that ‘there is simply no one-to-one relationship
between goddess worship and high status for women’, Hume’s field research on Shakti
worship demonstrates that in some traditions goddess worship is empowering for
women. Because Eller fails to describe women who do enjoy autonomy, at least in part
as a result of the worship of a powerful goddess, the data, again, compromise her
conclusion that ‘goddess worship can coexist with various degrees of status for women,
high or low’ (pp. 106–7).
Eller also argues that a form of goddess worship that is ‘culturewide, exclusive, and
consistently supportive of women’s power and independence’ has never been seen
historically or ethnographically (p. 105). But if we taper this argument to less flamboyant
requirements, we will find examples of goddess worship that are supportive of women’s
power.

A Limited Ideal
Binford in 1979, Suzanna Walters in 1985 and now Eller in 2000 all suggest that the
goddess revival—called New Feminist Fundamentalism, spiritual feminism and feminist
spirituality, respectively—fails to exceed the bounds of a masculinist construction.
According to Walters,
spiritual feminism plays into traditional male orientations towards women, orientations
which are constitutive of the dominant order. For example, in the equation of woman
with nature, life, spirituality, emotion, intuition, etc., spiritual feminists are adopting
assumptions and definitions that have been articulated and developed by the male
hegemonic process. (Walters 1985, pp. 25–6)

These authors claim that the goddess movement’s ideal of women ascribes a constrained
definition of ‘femaleness’ universally, despite culture, economics or ethnicity. According
 Matriarchy and Myth 257

to Eller, the female divine as Mother and the correlative valuation of human mothers
could be viewed as paragons of a narrow ideal that is consistent with ‘a staple of
right-wing antifeminist rhetoric’ (p. 65). This model suggests that only women who
give birth are viewed by ‘feminist matriarchalists’ as having access to the most essential
of female ‘‘mysteries’’ ’ (p. 57). Eller cautions that while revaluing childbearing is a
positive move, it brackets women ‘off from historical processes, indeed from the entire
project of culture’ (p. 65). Yet Eller’s own descriptions, as well as my own research,
show that practices have conscientiously been altered to celebrate all women and not
just those who are childbearers (p. 57). This change challenges Eller’s argument that the
goddess revival holds women to a narrow ideal in which childbearing constitutes female
identity.
The model of Mother as deity connotes more than childbearing. It is associated with
such qualities as compassionate, nurturing and loving. At the same time these traits are
also used to describe Christ, Buddha, saints and bodhisattvas. Nor do they bracket
women from culture. Spretnak argues that the research that establishes females as more
empathetic than males ‘does not limit women to childcare; the capacity for empathy
enhances the wisdom of a judge, a physician, a professor, an executive, or a Cabinet
member in charge of any area involving human beings’ (Spretnak 1982, p. xxvii).

Eller’s concern about the difficulty of having an ideal to live up to is compelling, yet
religions regularly engender ideal visions of humans. Admittedly, overly idealist notions
such as that of virgin mothers can be problematic, creating unreachable goals that cause
adherents to feel ever inadequate, but ideals can also inspire. Drucilla Cornell views
idealistic visions as powerful tools for breaking out of hegemonic ideologies:
Without the affirmation of some kind of ideal . . . feminism loses its critical edge
because it can only reinforce the masculine viewpoint as all of reality . . . if there is no
countervailing feminine ‘reality’ or imaginary, then we are inevitably left with the
masculine as the only standard by which we assess the condition of women. (Cornell
1991, p. 130)

To understand the meaning of the term ‘Mother’ within the context of this
movement, one must incorporate a wide range of narratives. The diminished meaning
of mother within contemporary Western culture is the one who makes pancakes, cleans
the laundry and washes the dishes. Mothers can be diminished or mothers can be
recognised as those who give life. But valuing one’s womb is not always identical with
‘biological determinism’ or essentialism, and charges of these alleged crimes can become
pedantic. Ignoring the fact that women are the ones who have babies will not make it
go away. When searching for characteristics that define female identity, it is difficult to
ignore the fact that only women give birth.17 Women can accept our mainstream
culture’s diminished views of mothers and can thereby view women’s bodies as limiting
them to the realm of cave or home. Or they can follow the logic of Simone de Beavoir
and avoid having children to be more like men. Or they can redefine the terms.
The erasure of our origins as embodied beings who come from our mother’s bodies
is a primary theme of the ‘French feminists’. In their work the erasure of maternal origin
is not belittled or diminished but assessed as a foundational element for Western men’s
and women’s identities through our culture’s metaphysics. Like Eller, the antagonists of
goddess spirituality describe these ideas as though they were comical and yet occasion-
ally admit with seeming regret that the goddess revival empowers women (see Eller
2000, pp. 5, 7, 55).
258 K. Coleman

In my research on the goddess revival community, ideals for women are not aligned
with patriarchy but instead deconstruct those hegemonic models. The ideal woman is
empowered and self-determined, unlike the sexist ideal of a woman masquerading in
her ‘feminity’: soft-spoken (if speaking), passive, meek and subservient. Conversely, the
idea of ‘the feminine’ in theoretical discourse connotes a lost potential of women, an
aspect feared and expunged from culture. In her chapter on feminist theory, Eller
convolutes the terms and meanings of ‘the feminine’ and ‘femininity’. Although
understandably confusing, the terms are not interchangeable.

Zeal
In her zeal to undercut the ‘matriarchal myth’ in the academic, if not the popular, realm,
Eller shifts through a gamut of theories, disciplines and stories that are often used to
support the prehistorical hypothesis. Reputable and significant theories, especially for
feminist analysis, seem to be dismissed by mere association.
Eller claims that the ‘myth’ itself is largely responsive to problems somewhat ‘created’
by ‘radical feminists’ (p. 18). One of those problems associates ‘patriarchy’ with a
hegemonic system of thought that holds hatred, oppression and exploitation as
unquestioned ways of life (see pp. 16, 19). In the chapter on ‘The Story They Tell’,
Eller reiterates the claim that men began to control women’s sexuality to ensure that
their offspring inherited their property (see p. 53), alongside accounts of churches built
atop previous goddess sites (see p. 54), and more, under the ostensible umbrella that this
sexist and fictive narrative writes prehistory as ‘good’ and history as ‘bad’. In this
manner, theories are implicitly discredited through juxtaposition with less credible ideas
rather than by direct argument.
Eller also occasionally attributes certain viewpoints to women who are renowned
‘partisans’ of goddess spirituality rather than citing academic sources. This strategy
compromises the theories through association with the ‘myth’. For instance, in Eller’s
portrayal of the purported centrality of motherhood in the descriptions of prehistory,
she plays up depictions of the communal raising of children (see pp. 42–4) and assertions
that society itself was ‘built up around women and their children’ (p. 39). She fails to
convey, however, that matricentrality is not a concept solely generated by fiction
writers. The paleoanthropologist Adrienne Zihlman and the anthropologist Nancy
Tanner argue that it is through the sharing of food between mothers and children, rather
than through the bonding of males in hunting, that social bonds first evolved. In another
example Eller recounts narratives of women’s embodiedness and knowledge gained
from the body in a context that, again, is intended to discredit. Donna Wilshire and
Charlene Spretnak are mentioned as having the experience of ‘an Other inside’ during
pregnancy (see pp. 57, 203 n. 3). Yet this is not merely a ‘partisan’ view, as many
prominent scholars such as Julia Kristeva also recapitulate and contemplate this
experience. Eller therefore convolutes the ‘way knowledge is acquired and the validity
of that knowledge’, committing the error of relativism (see Fischer 1970, p. 42 n. 4).
These theories cannot be discredited simply because they appear in works by ‘feminist
matriarchalists’.
These dubious methods of discrediting a variety of theories tangentially associated
with the goddess revival seem to be motivated by a tacit ideological and political stance
that is not unique to Eller. Two other antagonists of the goddess revival movement
endorse Matriarchal Prehistory on its back cover. These antagonists deem goddess
spirituality to be ‘based on assumptions that cannot be supported’, but they remain
 Matriarchy and Myth 259

unaware that their own arguments are not only similarly influenced but at times
alarmingly emotive. Rosemary Ruether regards feminists involved with postpatriarchal
spirituality as immature and immodest, and the practice itself ‘dangerous’ (Ruether
1980, p. 846). Binford refers to these feminists as ‘a lunatic fringe of the women’s
movement’ (Binford 1982, p. 543). And Eller describes their thinking as vacuous (p. 8).
Such ad hominem arguments are neither scholarly nor helpful.
To a large extent, the counter argument to the prepatriarchal hypothesis is often
largely founded upon the accusation that the ‘partisans’ are imbeciles. The antagonists
cannot fathom why the revival group cannot see that the evidence does not prove the
hypothesis. Likewise the revivalists cannot accept that the antagonists do not recognise
the possibility of its accuracy. Eller’s book can contribute to the study of the goddess
revival by its in-depth investigation of this vociferous debate. Matriarchal Prehistory makes
an excellent case study of the antagonist’s viewpoint.
Feminist and poststructuralist thought supports the argument that the corps of
anti-goddess scholars—Eller, Binford, Ruether, Talalay—are replicating the same
version of ‘reality’ produced by the status quo. Eller belittles this argument by reiterating
the criticism without comment, but it is a plausible suggestion. Archaeology has been
strongly criticised for its reproduction of verisimilitude in interpreting the remains of the
past. Pierre Bourdieu sounded a similar criticism in the field of anthropology for
projecting the values and structures of a Western world onto strange cultures. These
theories uphold the argument that Eller’s thesis—which insists upon the exclusivity of
the masculine reign throughout hominid existence, despite alternative indications and
the fact that we do not know—reproduces a myth that strengthens the status quo.18
From primate studies to archaeology, interpreters and interpretations are changing.
Primate studies, once a field that upheld the ‘naturalness’ of male domination, now
provide evidence of matricentric and egalitarian, if not female-dominant, social systems
from the Bonobo, an ape as closely related to humans as the chimpanzee. Some
archaeologists, despite Eller’s characterisation of the field, still consider it a credible
hypothesis that some cultures in prehistory were egalitarian. As postcolonial and
poststructuralist theory take root in academia, it is likely that many of our accepted
categories and theories will be reassessed.

Conclusion
For those who believe in the ‘myth of matriarchal prehistory’ as outlined by Eller, this
book is recommended reading, as it will assist in understanding the complexity of the
evidence. But Matriarchal Prehistory is a biased and incomplete summary of the topic. At
first reading, the book may be very persuasive, but an in-depth consideration invites a
gnawing scepticism that some major methodological improprieties are at work. It is
highly unlikely that any of the alternative material introduced in this review will be new
to Eller, but it may well be new to her readers.
Readers need to know, first, that Eller’s proposed ‘myth of a matriarchal prehistory’
is not the commonly held version of the hypothesis. The story told by Eller draws more
from the ‘starry-eyed’ enthusiasts than from most advocates of a similar, less eccentric
hypothesis. Although Eller’s version of the ‘myth’ is easier to dispute, it inaccurately
presents the academic argument.
Second, readers ought to approach Eller’s rejection of prepatriarchal goddess worship
with caution. The claim that goddesses in myth were not appropriated or sublimated by
gods cannot be upheld. Analysis reveals a phenomenon that might best be described
260 K. Coleman

through an analogy: vector math shows that when all the arrows are pointing in one
direction, it is likely that is the direction of motion or change. The examples considered
in this review reflect a scattering of evidence that often, like arrows, points towards a
diminution of goddesses’ power and women’s autonomy in history. This phenomenon
remains unexplained.
Third, Eller wants goddess spirituality practitioners to admit that this hypothesis of
matriarchal prehistory is ‘myth’, and wants ‘feminist matriarchalists to abandon their
ambitions to historical veracity’ (p. 182). Yet these are the very persons who have stated
it does not matter whether the story is proved non-historical. The argument suffers from
a lack of boundary—in particular, the boundary between theology (or here thealogy)
and investigations on the same issues from the secular academic domain: story versus
hypothesis. Labeling anyone even tangentially associated with the hypothesis of a
prepatriarchal prehistory a ‘feminist matriarchalist’ seems analogous to labeling any
genealogist investigating the physical existence of the biblical flood Christian or Jewish.
Fourth, Eller’s claim that the ‘myth’ presents an ideal of women that reproduces sexist
ascriptions is as spurious an argument now as it was twenty years ago. The prehistorical
hypothesis provides a new realm of possibility that promotes women’s autonomy and
self-determination rather than any set myopic ideal (see pp. 5, 7, 55). The only thing the
myth challenges is the naturalness and inevitability of patriarchy.
Fischer describes good historical inquiry as beginning with ‘an open-ended question’,
but Eller seems to have begun with her conclusion: the hypothesis of a prehistoric
matricentric culture, which she views as foundational to a spiritual practice she
previously disparaged, is a ‘house of cards’ (p. 180). Eller’s admission to being ‘repulsed’
by the theory she intends to assess discloses the greatest defect of the book. It hints at
her inability to engage the material objectively and precludes my recommending this
book as an evenhanded investigation of the evidence. Fortunately, Matriarchal Prehistory
is apt to prompt more voices to join in the discussion. Clearly, Eller should not be
the sole voice on all facets of a tradition so dynamic and controversial. As she herself
writes, ‘The evidence available to us regarding gender relations in prehistory is sketchy
and ambiguous, and always subject to the interpretation of biased individuals. . . .
Theoretically, prehistory could have been matriarchal’ (p. 6).

Notes
1 Charlene Spretnak describes the article as ‘one of the most misleading’ she has read (Spretnak
1982, p. 552). It is reprinted as an Appendix in Spretnak’s The Politics of Women’s Spirituality
(1982), in which she includes her response to the article along with counter and post-counter
responses by Binford and her. The arguments common to Binford’s article and Eller’s book are:
(1) a concern with the presence of a theory of ‘matriarchy’ within the hallowed halls of academia;
(2) naming the theory’s originator: Johann J. Bachofen; (3) a concern that the adherents of the
‘myth’ are harming the reputation of feminism; (4) the criticism of the use of myth as history; (5)
the claim that the function of myth is to rationalise the status quo; (6) a denial that female figures
in art correlate with ‘matriarchal power’, accompanied by a counter-suggestion of pornography;
(7) a criticism that the ideal woman defined by the goddess revival replicates conventional sexist
viewpoints; and (8) ad hominem descriptions of the ‘partisans’.
2 Fieldnotes: 15 September 2000.
3 Fieldnotes: 3 September 2000.
4 Gimbutas wrote that ‘Gylany implies that the sexes are ‘‘linked’’ rather than hierarchically
‘‘ranked’’. I use the term ‘‘matristic’’ simply to avoid the term ‘‘matriarchy’’, with the
understanding that it incorporates matriliny’ (Gimbutas 1991, p. 324).
5 Eller argues that ‘feminist matriarchalists’ think X, but she attempts to prove her thesis by
assuming that persons who think X are ‘feminist matriarchalists’.
 Matriarchy and Myth 261

6 Fischer clarifies the problem of this reasoning by explaining that ‘a simple statement that ‘‘there
is no evidence of X’’ means precisely what it says—no evidence . . . not knowing that a thing
exists is different from knowing that it does not exist. The former is never sound proof of the
latter’ (Fischer 1970, pp. 47–8).
7 Eller describes societies ‘centered around mothers’ as representing ‘matriarchal power’. She
explains that this kind of power is ‘based on a natural (as opposed to an arbitrary) kind of power,
that of motherhood’ (p. 44). This description seems to retain the concept of ‘power over’ (e.g.,
‘the mother ‘‘rules’’ ’) rather than ‘power with’.
8 Space is not available to include a full consideration of Eller’s treatment of this theory of an
Indo-European invasion/migration.
9 Eller’s approach also commits the ‘fallacy of metaphysical questions’ in demanding that the
‘feminist matriarchalists’ answer the metaphysical question of why: ‘why did the golden age fall’
(p. 46); why did men begin suddenly to experience womb envy? (p. 98). Fischer describes the
‘why’ question as ‘an imprecise question. . . . Sometimes it seeks a cause, sometimes a motive,
sometimes a reason . . . A ‘‘why’’ question lacks direction and clarity; it dissipates a historian’s
energies and interests’ (Fischer 1970, p. 14).
10 For a mythological history strikingly similar to the Enuma Elish from the Mexican culture, see
Miller 1988, p. x.
11 By contrast, Lotte Motz, in The Faces of the Goddess, insists that ‘[t]here is no evidence to show
that female deities were willfully subjugated or suppressed’ (Motz 1997, p. 36). Motz denies the
mother goddess image as life giver, whereas Frymer-Kensky cites it from ancient myth.
12 Eller mentions that the figurines are most often found disposed of in household rubbish. How
this fact is interpreted depends upon one’s approach. Hindu tradition provides many indications
that clay figures that at one time represented a deity are disposed of once their purpose is
complete. In other words, practitioners do not see the image as the deity. It is the clay that is
disposable.
13 No reference for the originating figurine is provided.
14 Although Eller appropriates Kurtén’s description of female figures as pornographic, she does not
mention that this author also argues that the Ice Age is ‘a culture without wars’. Kurtén insists
that ‘the life of a society is reflected in its pictures’ and that the culture of the Ice Age is
‘materially as well as spiritually rich’ (pp. 114–5). The absence of ‘cannibalism, slavery, and war’
that became prevalent aspects of later ‘civilization’ and its art are missing from earlier art, Kurtén
argues, because they were not a part of life: ‘The life of a society is reflected in its pictures. The
art of the Ice Age is highly illuminating, not only because of its contents, but also because of
what we do not find in it. The art of the early civilizations abounds with processions of soldiers
and slaves; great kings and gods before whom the multitudes prostrate themselves; vanquished
enemies being trampled underfoot, fettered, led to the slaughter. There is none of this in the Ice
Age pictures’ (Kurtén 1986, p. 102).
15 One archaeologist confided frustration over the irony of this lack of detail for the figurines,
noting that ‘meanwhile, the depiction of an olive on a vessel will be painstakingly measured!’ In
Anthropomorphic Figurines Peter Ucko often complains about the lack of description for figurines
themselves and for the final context (see Ucko 1968, pp. 176, 177).
16 Interview: June 23, 2000.
17 Eller instead argues that what makes women women is ‘simply their secondary status in a male
dominant culture’ (p. 78).
18 Sarah Nelson, an expert on East Asian archaeology, is quoted as proposing that ‘Universal
patriarchy, ironically enough, may turn out to be the ultimate male myth!’ (quoted Osborn
1997, p. 3).

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KRISTY COLEMAN is a doctoral candidate at Claremont Graduate University in the

Theology, Ethics and Culture program. Her dissertation is an ethnographic study of a
prominent Wiccan group in the Los Angeles area.

E-mail: kristy.coleman@cgu.edu