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Medusa: a symbol of oppression or strength?

  • Writer: achillesreel
    achillesreel
  • Sep 30
  • 6 min read

Myla

 

Originally an evil villainess that terrorised the Ancient world, Medusa has undergone a complex transformation in recent years, evolving from a marginalised monster to a complex and empowering figure.

 

Medusa was often portrayed as hideous threat or a deserving victim of divine punishment, transformed into a Gorgon with a gaze that turned anyone who looked upon her into stone.

 

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Today, however, popular culture has redefined her as a patriot of strength, resilience, and even redemption. [1]The reevaluation of her story displays the more holistic changes in how we interact with mythology, reinterpreting these ancient stories through a modern lens that questions gender, authority, and victimisation.

 

Let’s look back upon the original myth :

Medusa, originating from the Greek μεδω (medō) [2] meaning ‘to protect, was once a beautiful maiden. She was cursed for breaking her vow of celibacy as she was a priestess of Athena. (Inconsensually) consorting with Poseidon, Athena’s immortal enemy, intensified her punishment. Athena could not let this slide, symbolising chastity and virginity, she turned Medusa into a hideous hag, a consequence to ‘seducing’ Poseidon (But really, we know who is at fault here) in her very own shrine. Her hair transformed into writhing snakes and her skin turned a greenish hue. Anyone who locked eyes with her was turned to stone. Medusa’s sisters are also cursed the Gorgon sisters live on the edge of Night and guard the golden apple trees. Unfortunately, Medusa was not allowed to suffer in peace. Later, Perseus, son of Zeus was sent on a quest to kill Medusa. [3]

 

What had she again done wrong to endure more agony by a prosecutor of even more god-instigated suffering? Once more, a ‘good’ male protagonist slays a woman already maliciously cursed and is considered heroic and fierce for doing so.

 

Medusa is turned into a Gorgon, ironically derived from the Greek word γοργος (gorgos) [2] meaning grim or fierce; yet, her ferocity is seen as monstrous and is ‘rightly’ ostracised for it. We are practically begged to consider the consequences and repercussions of such hypocritical gender norms—2000 years later, shockingly, little has changed.

 

By examining both the original myth and its modern adaptations, we can explore how Medusa's image has evolved and what her transformation reveals about the shifting of our cultural norms.

 

Hesiod’s Theogony

Hesiod’s works were the earliest written example of Medusa from the 8th Century BCE.  Hesiod’s poem portrayed her as an alluring, mortal Gorgon sister, an anomaly in comparison to her two immortal siblings. Raped and violated by Poseidon in Athena’s shrine, Medusa is depicted as explicitly provoking this heinous act as Athena’s sanctuary symbolised chastity and virginity. Born a beautiful maiden, her lustrous hair was transformed into snakes and her face into an abomination, the sight of which turns those who look at her to stone, as punishment for her act of desecration. The purpose of the original character seems to encourage mankind to reflect on hierarchy and division within the 8th Century world; the victimisation of the weakest by the strongest perpetuates thought on the absolute power of the gods over the fallible. Medusa’s character epitomises hazy lines; Hesiod’s poem determines the difficulty of discerning the good from the evil; the victim from the perpetrator; the monster from the monstrous. In H. G Evelyn-White’s translation of Hesiod’s poem, Medusa is described as pursuing, ‘the transgressions of men and of gods…never cease from …dread anger… punish the sinner with a sore penalty.’  Interestingly, here the Gods and man are lumped together, equally capable of ‘transgressions’, equally worthy of being labelled, ‘sinners’. The original text serves to illustrate how absolute power can corrupt absolutely, regardless of status or appearances. Hesiod’s Medusa stands the test of time because of the light it shines of the unfortunate repetition of the dangers of limitless power. In 2024, we see the Medusa tale bare relevance to the persecution of the marginalised where once again, absolute power crushes the frail and weak minorities.

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Movies & Animation

Medusa and her gorgon sisters have inspired numerous characters in modern day films and series; contemporarily, she is introduced to children in collections of Greek fables, orally told by nursery teachers or parents. This mimics the oral tradition in which ancient myths were told, a custom that originated from the Bronze Age where bards and poets, known as rhapsodes, would recount these tales. [4]  Medusa’s petrifying powers take root in Tim Burton’s film, ‘Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children’ (2016) where two mute ballerina boys keep their faces covered except to turn one child to stone.  Burton presents them on the big screen as having reptilian skin and gorgon abilities. In this 21st Century adaptation, the boys are passive and silent, their main contribution was to turn a wight (predator) to stone by lifting their masks. Irrefutably, the passivity of these characters echoes the passivity of Medusa as she is served her punishment for being raped. [5] Yet, one could argue that the enjoyment of Burton’s ballerinas is much less than when we consume the original presentation of Medusa. The adaptation consists of a disappointingly simplified version of Medusa’s original moral message; Burton’s gorgons are merely a poor substitute for the richness of the original oral tradition that inspired Hesiod’s 8th Century tale and merely attract viewership. In addition, despite her pitiful story, she is presented as the an antagonist in many adaptations such as the animated Castlevania series (2017) and in the Nintendo game ‘Kid Icarus’

 

Fashion, Art & Literature

Medusa is also a much loved figure in fashion and art; frequently an insignia incorporated in high fashion, there is a clear trend of focus on her beauty and strength rather than her monstrous nature. Most notably, Versace takes Medusa and sells her image of allure and danger, arguably diluting Medusa’s multifaceted character.

 

She is presented as an ‘otherness’ by traditional Greek art, living on the outskirts of the known Greek world on the edge of night, a horrific being to be feared and vanquished. Notable traditional carvings and images of Medusa in Temple C built in 540 BC in Sicily shows Medusa facing directly out, which was not typical of Greek art which favoured side profiles. She stares ahead and uncompromisingly confronts who ever looks at her. But is this either the bold but stubborn nature of a valiant Greek warrior or the antagonistic stringency of a monster?

 

Finally, Jean-Paul Sartre, a famous french philosopher and playwright references Medusa within his greater work ‘Morts Sans Sepulture’ (Men without Shadows, 1946) and explores Medusa as a symbol of human fear, isolation, and desire for freedom, reflecting the existentialist themes in his work. As a leading figure in 20th- century Marxism, Sartre is most famous for his phrase ‘L’enfer c’est les autres’, meaning ‘Hell is other people’. [6] He interprets Medusa as a victim, cursed by those around her as everyone is inherently evil and hell-bound.

Medusa's character continues to evolve in popular culture; modern adaptations underscore how she has been misinterpreted and misunderstood throughout history, often serving as a scapegoat for broader communal fears or disregarding the inconsistencies of societal norms. Originally portrayed as a monstrous figure in the ancient myth, her story is frequently dimmed down to one of punishment and villainy, despite being manipulated, victimised and used by the gods. At most, her myth serves as a tool for exploring the consequences of divine cruelty which can seem irrelevant in this modern age. In contemporary retellings, Medusa challenges traditional gender norms, presenting a powerful commentary on how society punishes women for their beauty, autonomy, or defiance. She attains qualities that are frowned upon when adopting a misogynistic gaze, yet, under the pretext of a man, she would be celebrated and greatly revered. Her gaze, which once symbolized danger and evil, is a blessing in disguise; she now becomes a metaphor for strength to reclaim power in the face of oppression, drawing parallels to genocides and senseless prosecution that still occur today. The evolution of Medusa’s character invites us to question the authority that defines victimhood, suggesting that the real monstrosity lies not in the victim, but in the liminal forces that seek to control, silence, or subjugate. Through this lens, Medusa’s story becomes one of empowerment, offering a nuanced and multifaceted exploration of gender and the struggle for agency in a time that often misinterprets female strength as a threat.

 

 

 

 

 

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