Introduction

Why is it that the stories of powerful women in Greece are always told by men?

Why is it that men always mess those stories up?

Hello, people of the world, and welcome.

You know me as Medusa: the mythical, monstrous Greek gorgon with snakes for hair. You probably know that I can turn anyone to stone if they look in my eyes. You might even know how I became one of the most powerful women in Greek mythology. But you probably don't know my story-- the real story. Not the one Ovid (a respected poet but a man nonetheless) told you.

That story is my story to tell. More on that in a bit.

If you asked any prominent woman in Greek mythology (or in any kind of mythology, probably), the real villain is not the monster a strong man might save us from, or ourselves and our non-conforming tendencies (as some stories depict). No, the real villain is one that hides in plain sight and presents its word as the whole, unquestionable truth: the male storyteller.

I'm not here to tell you all men are evil and should never be trusted. I know men reading this are probably furrowing their brows and crossing their arms across their chests in offense. Men aren't bad, and it's okay if men are the leading authority on stories about MEN, but why is it that men are the leading authority in telling the stories of Greek women as well? (It's because gender equality was not a priority in ancient Greece, but that's an issue for another time.)

Sorry, boys, it's time to let the women speak for a change. We have voices too, you know.

Ovid told my story to the world, but it's time to set the record straight.

Once upon a time, I was a normal young woman. I was smart, I was kind, I was devoted to the gods. I was your conventional Greek woman.

One day, while I was giving an offering to Athena (the Greek goddess of wisdom) in her temple, I ran into a man. This man, I would later find out, was Poseidon, the god of the sea and Athena's uncle.

Because it gives me nor you any pleasure reminiscing the details, I'll make this part of the story short and precise. He attacked me. He raped me. He stole my normalcy and changed the rest of my life forever.

When it was over, and I was left to deal with my trauma alone in Athena's temple, the goddess herself appeared to me. This is where my story and Ovid's hearsay diverge.

Ovid told everyone that my trauma was my own fault, and I deserved to be punished for it. I was too beautiful for a god to resist, and because of this I desecrated Athena's temple with my impurity. He told the world that Athena was so angry at me for blemishing her sacred place with my indiscretions, she turned my hair to snakes and my gaze to stone.

I'm sure, as you've read my story so far, this might be a surprise to you: but that's not what happened.

Athena sat next to me and attempted to comfort me and offer me kindness. She understood who was truly the victim in this case, and she treated me as such. Needless to say, I was furious at Poseidon, at the gods for letting this happen to me. The smallest part of me was even angry at myself. I was hurt, I was distraught, I was grieving. I told Athena that I would never allow anyone to touch me again. I would never allow myself to be brutalized, traumatized and assaulted as I was that day. I vowed to become so powerful that no one could take advantage of me ever again.

Athena did what goddesses do and gave me the ability to keep these promises to myself. She allowed me to turn any man who came near enough to look into my eyes into stone. She helped me survive.

See, my story isn't about the flirty girl who was turned into a monster as a consequence for her actions like Ovid said. My story is one of trauma, power and survival.

There are so many stories like mine in Greek mythology. These stories aren't exactly like mine, of course, but they are similar because the fact that the stories were told by men changed them, warped them into something almost unrecognizable. Women are strong, powerful, and non-conforming to Greek male ideas of what the perfect woman should be-- and their stories are the same. Just ask the Amazons or Atalanta.

Or better yet, you can just read those stories here. I'm about to tell them to you.

Banner image provided by: Wikimedia Commons.