Guh.

Much of Maria’s gap moe has historically reflected well on masculinity and male provision in Arab societies (as manifested in our poetic tradition). The connection had dawned on me gradually—first given the way my dad adored Maria (despite not caring for Patho’s other characters) to the point of praising her dialogue and buying P2 full price for her. I registered why when my paternal aunt reprimanded me for “not carrying my lineage” (of dad’s maternal tribe) well unless I learn from their art of cockiness/“making others feel like they’re nothing” (awkward translations, I know, bear with me).

Her grocery list of all the qualities I lacked both sounded like Classic Maria’s design docs and aptly described the haughty heroine of Arabic poetry, in which the feminine ideal is so intense that it can seem manufactured to foreigners. To my understanding—correct me if I’m wrong—Western societies associate effortlessness with authenticity and nonchalance with independence, so a ‘cool girl’ there would be one who minimizes performance. In Arab societies, effort poured into one’s appearance is an indication of self-respect and dignity rather than insecurity (as seen in our perfume culture), so a cool girl here would maximize her presentation.

This is perhaps why anecdotally (I won’t claim to have quantifiable proof), I noticed the abandonment of Classic Maria’s over-the-top, evidently bespoke gown has been relatively well-received by most fans with the exception of Arabs. No, really, I haven’t (yet) met a single Arab fan in this community who wasn’t fond of her original design, but even beyond that: I pester my relatives about Pathologic to varying levels of success, yet few things unite them quite like lamenting Maria’s redesign. (This has also been the case for Eva’s redesign, but this post isn’t about her.) For context, I come from a religiously conservative family, but my grandmother would consider you underdressed if you’re not flaunting your God-given goods.

Appearance asides, the perfect woman is cunning yet lazy and self-absorbed. The last two qualities, performed by visible ease and slow movement/refusal of haste, earn her the epithet ‘miksāl’. A miksāl reflects well on the male members of her tribe by indicating their provision and protection. Needless to say that Victor, indeed, pours all that’s in him for his daughter, but even Georgiy keeps her portrait over his workspace in perhaps a symbolic indication of whom he dedicates his labor to.

Being pampered like a baby and self-centered was also believed to allow the woman to reserve her energy for playfulness and coquettishness in the company of the few for whom her love burns (or just her victims). These qualities and more are captured in a single Arabic word, dala', which tellingly hasn’t an equivalent in English but arguably one in Korean (aegyo). It’s also the root for our equivalent to daddy’s pet (dalu’at baba: my sporadic nickname for Maria).

The face contemporarily attached to dala’ is Haifa Wehbe, the pop star you might’ve seen me associate with Maria. Considering how cloying aegyo has been perceived in the West, I imagine dala’ would also come off artificial, so I decided against including such footage of Haifa to spare my foreign friends the ick (needless to say we’re way into it). But when stirring from her default iciness, Maria wears her kittenish side so well to me, like when she plays into Artemy’s masculine pride to get what she wants. Even being underhanded makes it no less cute (see: cunning).

The quality isn’t off-putting when necessarily redeemed by inaccessibility. If laziness is a common theme in erotic poetry (the indulged body), then yearning distinguishes romantic poetry from it (as a genre more celebrated since the advent of Islam over the former). The famous opening line of the Qasīdah Banat Suʿād, a masterpiece by the 7th-century poet Kaʿb ibn Zuhayr, opens: "Su'ād [the muse] has departed, and my heart is undone." The muse is always either absent, out of reach, or leaving; Arab masculinity (travel/endurance) proves itself by pursuing the unreachable to no hope of success. Presently, you’ll find as many instances of Haifa stonewalling the attention of male talk show hosts, who gladly anticipate rejection (even humiliation): it's an orderly performance of relational gender. Perhaps this is why I struggled to explain to an American friend why I find disgust the most feminine emotion? For Maria Kaina, her ardent admirers (including the twins and the Bachelor) who can never consummate the romance coloring their friendship seem to gladly help her play at that inaccessibility, and her resting state of iciness makes her pops of sweetness that much starker. [Tumblr won't allow me to post screencaps of the dialogue I want to reference, so I'll type them out below]

Andrey: [...] your woman is Maria. I would have gladly switched places with you, but she obviously would never see an equal in me

Bachelor: Let me see Maria. Young Man: It is impossible.

Bachelor: I want to see Maria. Victor Kain: It's too late now. 

Peter: Maria is turning into a chrysalis now. [...] And by the way-Maria is [...] now, not mine...

Maria: No, this is definitely not me... Not your Maria anymore, [...] Touch my flesh-and your hands will only feel air...

All in all, I find it terribly fitting of the Bachelor and Artemy’s cultural differences that the former responds to Maria’s dala’ by shutting it down/preferring to know her authentically, while Artemy has to privately admit (in his journal, after that exchange) to her sexiness.