She Wasn’t Always a Monster
We all know of Medusa. Barely a woman, really. Writhing snakes
where hair should be, and a fanged countenance so horrific
that to simply look upon her face was enough to turn a man to stone.
She wasn’t always a monster. Once upon a time, she was the most
beautiful maiden in all the land. Ravishingly beautiful, with a beauty
that earned her many a suitor she did not want. Would not have.
Angered by her refusal, Poseidon raped Medusa within the sanctity of
Athena’s temple. Enraged by the desecration of her holy space, Athena
punished the beautiful Medusa for her crime. Made her a monster.
Neil Gaiman once said fairy tales do not teach children about bogey.
Children seem to be born knowing of bogey too well. No, the purpose
of fairy tales is to teach children that monsters can be vanquished.
Kill the monster, they cried, and brave Perseus beheaded the beast
while she was sleeping and with child and gave her head to Athena
to adorn her shield and I can’t help but wonder who the beast was.
Just a story, we laugh. But I ask you. What isn’t? All of the words we
share or do not and all the thoughts we share or do not, are they not
all stories? We live in a world made of stories. Medusa, I think, wept.
