Medusa is My Hero
and why she represents the state of women today
and why she represents the state of women today
I’m waiting at the airport terminal. My AirPods are dead, as usual. And I’m listening to two kids talk about their favorite villains.
They’re so passionate about which villain is better than the other that it seems unlikely to find common ground on the matter. One loves Maleficent while the other believes the Joker is the best. Which, to be fair, different franchises will never be able to settle on the best villain; they’re fighting a losing battle.
Their tireless debate makes me think about my favorite villain; Medusa.
I’ve been obsessed with Medusa since I first learned about Greek mythology. Her first introduction is through the story of Perseus, where most art was just a grotesque image of her severed head. The only statues of Medusa’s body by Cellini, with Perseus standing atop while holding that infamous head. Most recounts of Medusa did not offer a voice to the monster besides speaking on her death.
It wasn’t until I learned the story of Medusa through the eyes of the poet Ovid, that I began to truly love the “villain” of Greek mythology.
The Ovid version of Medusa is that of a beautiful young woman that was found in the temple of Minerva (Athena) by Neptune (Poseidon), raped, and then punished by Minerva, being made into the monster we know. Later, Medusa was beheaded by Perseus. She is merely a monster and a prize; I read the story with almost no acknowledgment of who Medusa was, the suffering she went through, the things she faced. She is only discussed with a short and sad origin, a monster turning men to stone, and a prize to be held in an extremely dehumanizing way.
But, I was still hooked. I wanted to understand her. I wanted to know what she thought. I wanted to understand how betrayed she must have felt by the goddess she was worshipping. I wanted to know if she held a grudge against Neptune or all men. It felt like turning men into stone because of the tragedy she experienced was a fitting and understandable way to live out her days; at least to me.
Medusa is my hero because if you read between the lines it is a story of survival. A story of someone who was cast out and hunted. Which, unfortunately, isn’t that different than how victims of abuse are treated today.
In Ancient Greece, female characters were categorized into three stereotypes: the virgin, the mother, or the whore. Minerva, considered the righteous virgin, is pitted against Medusa, who is seen as a whore due to Neptune’s actions. Even today, we oversexualize Medusa and see her as a seductress that would lure men in to destroy. Her story was reduced to, being turned into a monster, seducing men, and being slain by one. She had no voice, yet we are all captivated by her.
How many stories have we heard where a woman is victim-blamed and shamed for what has happened to her?
When I experienced abuse, I felt like I had to hide it and suffer in silence. When I did tell someone I was either shut down and told I was overreacting or I was viewed as “spoiled goods.”
Years later, I experienced PTSD and would have panic attacks during sex. It was always on my mind if I should tell a potential partner about my trauma and risk being seen as a victim or worse, something that they didn’t want to deal with, or if I would just hide my experience and deal with the pain as it came.
When I became more vocal about my experiences, everyone seemed to have an opinion on how I was supposed to have reacted rather than how to hold the man accountable. People saw it as something they could debate, where I just wanted to rid myself of the trauma.
I felt like Medusa. I felt isolated, blamed, seen as a monster, or something to avoid. People would ask me if I was going to swear off men now, or if I had “learned my lesson” about where to go so I stay safe. In those moments, I really did wish snakes could sprout from my head and turn others to stone.
And the story reads, “turns men to stone.” So, why were so many men trying to bother her? It’s not like she was easy to get to. She seems like a woman just trying to survive in the wake of something traumatic happening to her while everyone else around her has to have their say and input.
I began painting romantic-style art pieces. I started writing poetry about love even though I myself chose to be single for 5 years. I bought myself flowers and wore dresses and found any way to inject romance into my every day because I had felt like such a monster. I wanted to prove to myself that even after everything that had happened to me, I deserved romance. I deserved love and acceptance.
Maybe this is a really chaotic piece and none of this makes any sense, but it did to me when I was healing. I became obsessed with filling in those blanks of Medusa’s story because I was hoping that even if her ending and beginning were tragic, she might have found peace along the way.
And to think how well her story reflects that of a woman today? That Ancient Greece is not so far off with what a woman faces in the modern world.
Maybe Medusa can teach us all to show up for others, hear their stories and emotions instead of cutting it down into what happens to them. Maybe Medusa can teach us that even in the worst experiences, we are not truly monsters, but all just trying to survive.
Maybe Now I’ll Feel Clean
I carry this muck sewn into my skin
what’s worse is not the why
But to know those are you
refuse to see you are not yourself
Refuse to see
that you were swallowed whole
by someone else’s vicious soul
And you receive
is a shrug
and a pat
to say
Shit happens babe.
Too avoidant to even use my name
as if deep inside they know
that Name is no longer mine
It’s chained to that muck
that weighs me down
Pulling me closer to an emptiness
that I can only pray
someone may pull me out of
Instead I am met with
half smiles and half resolutions
that are just half assed dismissals
to avoid feeling what it might be like
To experience the removal of one’s
own sense of self
Your side glances show you see it too
The muck I spent hours trying to rid
to take back a skin
I’m no longer sure was there to begin with.
To Support My Work
Listen to “What Does Safety Look Like to You?” episode of Cracks in the Foundation
Follow me on Twitter and Instagram for podcast updates. Listen to past episodes on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.
Books I recommend: https://bookshop.org/shop/talularose