Gender/Sexuality in Maria C.

I wanted to post some of the questions that I am going to ask tomorrow so you guys can think over them while reading "Maria Concepcion". I am interested on how gender and sexuality are constructed in this story. I am trying to figure out what Porter is trying to do with the women in this story and want to explore what it means to be female in Mexico (vs. the United States). I find that there seems to be a stark difference between Maria Rosa and Maria Concepcion. While Maria Rosa has more "freedom" in her love/sex life, she ends up dead at the end of the story. She is young and opinionated and risks her life by going to war. Maria Concepcion is holding up the norms that are expected of her as a wife and religious woman, but she becomes a murderer. As a murderer, Maria is protected by the mother of her victim and the community, even though she slowly has distanced herself from her friends. She is unable to have her own child, and takes Maria Rosa's child and treats it as her own. Both women desire a man who is cowardly, vain, and lazy. I am not sure what to make out of all of these things, so hopefully this helps you guys to get thinking about the ideas that are presented.

Theft

I was interested to read the previous Theft post, which was sympathetic to the men in the story. The men are all extremely different, but I was intrigued by the understanding that the woman had of each of them. I don't think she was taking advantage of any of them--she was simply allowing them to make use of her feminine aura (ie. mystique). She does seem to have semi-romantic attachments to all of them, but none of them ever come through for her, in the sense that she is taken care of permenantly (or at least in the way the janitress suggests she is cared for). They make use of her as a romanticized female companion--someone to be gallant for, someone to offer a cab to, or someone to moan to over drinks. In the case of the letter writer, someone to use in a sexual capacity (it seems he has been the partner in the one affair that has genuinely emotionally involved her). I'm not suggesting these men are all chauvanists for playing their proscribed gender roles. But in the end, the woman is stuck in financial straights because she never insists on/ demands commitment from any of them. She's so understanding of each of them. Yes, she's willing to stretch traditional gender roles and have relationships with many men--but does this really make her free-thinking and liberated? Or does this instead make her complaisant to the point where she does not actually voice her own needs and desires?
In fact, the woman does not really want Camilo to wear his hat in the rain, or to pay for her, but she senses that it would be pointless to refuse him because his pride would be wounded. Roger, similarly, offers her a cab, and she accepts as a concession to his very different brand of pride: he's the sort of fellow who can afford a new hat, so he's not embarrassed to protect the one he has from the rain. He puts an arm around her familiarly, but then announces his apparently impending engagement. Bill whines about $10 a week alimony, but has just aquired a decorative rug for $95. Similarly, he was paid $700 for his play (even though it didn't run), but refuses to help the woman out with her $50 share for writing. (She apparently has contributed a scene to the script). In none of these cases is the woman assertive: she won't betray Camilo's gallantry and pride, she won't betray Roger's easy, flirtatious friendship, and she won't demand her payment from Bill. When the letter writer announces the end of the affair, we can probably assume that she will not take any action. She has been left again, with little more than a purse to show for it, although she has maintained her untethered, modern, sexual freedom as a woman free to come and go as she chooses. Whether she finds her situation glamourous or not, however, seems grimly ambiguous at the end of the story.