avatarNatalie Frank, Ph.D.

Summary

Baba Yaga, a figure from Russian folklore, dispels misconceptions and sets the record straight regarding her character and lifestyle.

Abstract

Baba Yaga, often mischaracterized in folklore, clarifies that she is not related to Bloody Mary, does not resemble the typical depictions of witches, and does not engage in cannibalism. She addresses rumors about her appearance, her home, and her interactions with children and tourists. Baba Yaga emphasizes her preference for privacy, her active lifestyle, and her disdain for the negative portrayals in media, including Broadway musicals. She also criticizes human behavior, contrasting it with her own actions, and warns against spreading lies and invading her privacy.

Opinions

  • Baba Yaga is upset about being confused with other mythical figures and the spread of false rumors about her.
  • She is proud of her ingenuity and the maintenance of her home, which is often misrepresented.
  • Baba Yaga is hurt by the unflattering descriptions of her appearance and is defensive about her true nature.
  • She values her privacy and resents the intrusion of tourists seeking photo opportunities.
  • Baba Yaga criticizes the human tendency to project negative stereotypes onto mythical beings.
  • She points out the hypocrisy of humans who judge her while engaging in worse behaviors, such as genocide and developing nuclear weapons.
  • Baba Yaga is not averse to consuming a few tourists who disrespect her boundaries, but she draws the line at eating children.
  • She expresses frustration with the portrayal of witches in media and Broadway, particularly the character of Elphaba from "Wicked."
  • Baba Yaga warns that those who continue to spread lies or disrespect her will face serious consequences, hinting at a game more dangerous than Russian Roulette.

Humor

Witch of Russian Folklore Sets the Record Straight

Baba Yaga addresses the rumors and accusations that have been made about her over the years.

Credit: Luc Asbury on flickr (CC BY 2.0)

Perhaps you have heard my name, Baba Yaga, though if so you may have been taught not to say it for fear I’d show up and do you harm. If so, you likely have me mixed up with Bloody Mary, who appears when you chant her name into a mirror three times. She’s no relation to me but is a close friend and I can tell you we don’t resemble each other at all. I also am not about to bother with divining your future, especially given that you haven’t been particularly nice to me, though I respect her for going through the effort to do so.

My fence isn’t made of children’s bones. It’s white because it’s whitewashed, that’s all. That rabble rouser Tom Sawyer decided to come knocking one day at the most inappropriate hour. As punishment, I told him he’d have to whitewash my entire fence. Instead of doing it though, he tricked a bunch of other kids into doing it for him.

I probably should have punished him some other way but truthfully, I was so impressed by his ingenuity and ability to influence the other kids I let him off the hook. Plus, he saved me the trouble of thinking up punishments for those other kids. Though Tom convinced them it was fun so they enjoyed it and it wasn’t really a punishment. What can I say? I’m a soft touch.

As for my appearance, this is where I’ve suffered the most insults. Some of you describe me as an old crone, hideous, skinny and bony, with iron teeth, and a nose so long that it touches the ceiling when I sleep. Come on people!

I’ve also been called an ogress. I mean really! An ogress? When was the last time you saw an ogress running around? The only one I’ve ever even met one is at Shrek’s wedding and she didn’t come from anywhere nearby. That Fiona is a doll, though.

Some of you have also said that I’m the Devil’s grandmother. Seriously? I may be old but I’m not that old! What makes you think he has a grandmother anyway?

I do have a perfectly wonderful daughter, Marinka. but she has yet to settle down and make me a grandmother. And contrary to what people say, Marinka and I have a wonderful relationship, other than the normal mother daughter stuff. I don’t keep her prisoner in a tower — that’s Rapunzel.

Then there are those of you who say I’m a toad-like creature with gnarled arms like tree trunks ending in brown claws and wild strings of mangy hair flying out behind me. Now that’s just plain mean.

Of course, there’s the biggest lie of them all. Evidently, there’s quite a few of you who have been spreading the rumor that I’m a cannibal who eats anyone who stops by my swamp hut. For your information, I don’t live in a hut and what kind of sense does a hut in the middle of a swamp make anyway? I happen to live in a pretty little cottage, that I maintain in good repair.

Okay, so maybe it does sit on chicken legs but you usually can’t see them. Unless you try to come in uninvited in which case my house picks itself up on it’s spindly but more than serviceable legs and turns around to make sure you can’t get to the door. I myself fly down the chimney in my mortal using the pestle to steer clear of the sides so I have no need of the door. Yes, okay, so that much is true.

But, honestly, do you have any idea how hurtful these rumors you spread are? Not to mention the prejudice and harassment that has resulted from such hateful rumors.

And despite all of these terrible things that are said about me, people still never seem to stop looking for my cottage. Newsflash folks, I put it deep in the forest for a reason. Take the hint. I mean would you walk up to any old house where you come from, ring the doorbell and expect to be invited in, fed and entertained no matter what time of the day or night?

If I didn’t personally invite you, then don’t show up looking for gingerbread and that includes children. While I largely enjoy the antics of the occasional child, more than a half a dozen or so a year is more than I can tolerate. I’m not a young woman. I am also very active and what with my aerobics and pottery classes I don’t have time to babysit your children. So, don’t pretend that you don’t notice when they wander off, figuring I’ll take them off your hands for an afternoon.

And by the way, that whole gingerbread business had nothing to do with me anyway. Hansel and Gretel weren’t even Russian, they were German. The least you can do get your fairy tales and folklore straight before heading out on a quest to find a witch. There are witches and there are witches, some of us are better than others and some are downright evil, so you had better know just whom you are seeking lest you find them and learn that they fall in the latter category.

Be advised, no matter which one you find, we won’t resemble those horrid images of wart faced, crooked nosed pointy hat wearing versions. I mean you people take whatever you want for your own and then make them into whatever you image you create in your disturbed little heads! Even in Broadway musicals you make the witch green and go out of your way to make beautiful performers look grotesque! What’s up with that?

It doesn’t matter if you make excuses for how Elphaba got to look the way that she did. I don’t care who was sleeping with whom. If that’s your plot device, then at least write the story so that the sinning parties sleeping around outside their marriage are the ones who turn green and ugly not their innocent child. And you think I’m evil!

Okay, I admit, I may eat a few tourists here and there, but only the ones that insist on wasting my time with photo ops so they can plaster my picture all over Facebook and Instagram, and refuse to go away even when I tell them I have plans. But not children. I draw the line at eating children.

Oh, don’t act so horrified. Honestly, if people described you the way they describe me and never left you alone, you’d be apt to eat a couple of them as well!

Plus, some of the things you people do are far worse. A few tourists no one will miss doesn’t come close to the instances of genocide you folks never seem to get sick of carrying out. I also have never developed anything close to a nuclear weapon which can wipe out all of civilization. And don’t even get me started on you Americans who decided that electing Donald Trump president was a stellar idea. How’s that working out for you?

I’m reaching out in the hopes that those of you who have participated in any of this name calling, rumor mongering and imposing on my hospitality uninvited will have the decency to be ashamed. Actually, I don’t really care whether you do or don’t. But for God’s sake, just stop spreading lies about me and if you’re not going to respect my privacy then just leave me alone completely.

Bottom line, unless you’re a serious gambler, I’d recommend just knocking all this nonsense off. Otherwise you’ll wish it was Bloody Mary who showed up. Because the game I’ll be playing with you will make Russian Roulette look like Candyland.

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Humor
Fairy Tale
Fiction
Creative Writing
Russian
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